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edenfallingFrom the department of Things I Am Not Writing Now, So Please Stop Trying To Get My Attention, Dammit: the opening scene of "A Change of Season," which is the probably-novel-length sequel to "Out of Season" and "To Every Thing There Is a Season."
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A Change of Season (opening scene only; therefore a fragment)
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When the summons came in the middle of the night, Ilgamuth Tarkaan was already awake. He had spent the evening in Achadith's temple, speaking with Shezan Tolkheera about the Narnian queen's flight and wondering how to mitigate Rabadash's fury. Then they had spent the hours until moonrise speaking of other things. But it was not seemly to spend the entire night in her company until they spoke marriage vows, and that could not happen until Shezan's six months of mourning for her grandfather were done.
So Ilgamuth had walked back across the Courtyard of Bones, through the gate in the high, spike-topped wall, across the Courtyard of Butterflies, and on into the new palace. His family was not highly ranked enough for him to have a suite of his own, but his place among Rabadash's companions allowed him a more than sufficient room two corridors away from the Courtyard of Broken Spears and the prince's own chambers. The window was in the outer wall of the new palace, overlooking one of the rutted cobblestone roads that ran between the hodgepodge of buildings erected by various Tisrocs over the past thousand years. The view was not especially aesthetic, nor was the noise in the morning very restful, but Ilgamuth could look upward to the open sky and that was inspiration enough.
He was lying on the tiny balcony in the directionless glow that diffused from the palace's innumerable windows, attempting to compose a poem comparing Shezan's eyes to the deepness of the night -- trite, of a certainty, but heartfelt -- when somebody pulled the bell affixed to his door.
"Come," Ilgamuth said, raising his voice just enough to be heard while hopefully not disturbing the inhabitants of the rooms on either side.
The servitor opened the door and knelt on the threshold. "O my lord, Prince Rabadash requests and requires you to gather your arms and join him in the Courtyard of Lions immediately," he said.
Ilgamuth closed his eyes for three heartbeats. Then he sighed and rolled to his feet, adjusting his tunic and turban as he stood. "To hear is to obey."
The servitor pressed his hands to the tiled floor, bowed, and then rose silently and shut the door, presumably continuing to gather Rabadash's companions for whatever new and reckless enterprise the prince had in mind. Granted, Rabadash's obsession with the Narnian queen was less likely to create outright disaster than his attempt to murder the Tisroc (may he live forever) this spring, but foreign wars undertaken for a flashfire passion rather than sober policy were not what Calormen needed.
One should not, of course, discount the chance that Rabadash might yet find a way to wring improbable victory from this humiliation. He had a keen mind, an eye for the opportune moment, and a willingness to think around corners rather than remain a slave to tradition. But Ilgamuth doubted his prince had wrestled his fury under enough control to make a plan that would survive the leap from overheated imagination to cold reality.
Nonetheless, he was Rabadash's man by breath, blood, and name. He would offer what counsel the prince was willing to hear. Then he would dip his sword and spear in blood at Rabadash's command, as he had done for thirteen years.
Ilgamuth buckled his sword around his waist, slung his spear and helmet over his shoulder, and strode through the palace to find his prince.
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Then we jump to Anvard the next morning, shortly before the Narnian attack, rather than follow Ilgamuth across the desert. (I am trying to write about events in Calormen that occur in HHB's aftermath, you see, not to recapitulate the entire book.) And then after the battle itself, I think we'd jump to Calormen and Shezan getting news of the catastrophe (but probably not the curse, just yet; Archenland and Narnia will try to keep that secret as long as possible)... but that is a story for another day. *wry*
---------------------------------------------
A Change of Season (opening scene only; therefore a fragment)
---------------------------------------------
When the summons came in the middle of the night, Ilgamuth Tarkaan was already awake. He had spent the evening in Achadith's temple, speaking with Shezan Tolkheera about the Narnian queen's flight and wondering how to mitigate Rabadash's fury. Then they had spent the hours until moonrise speaking of other things. But it was not seemly to spend the entire night in her company until they spoke marriage vows, and that could not happen until Shezan's six months of mourning for her grandfather were done.
So Ilgamuth had walked back across the Courtyard of Bones, through the gate in the high, spike-topped wall, across the Courtyard of Butterflies, and on into the new palace. His family was not highly ranked enough for him to have a suite of his own, but his place among Rabadash's companions allowed him a more than sufficient room two corridors away from the Courtyard of Broken Spears and the prince's own chambers. The window was in the outer wall of the new palace, overlooking one of the rutted cobblestone roads that ran between the hodgepodge of buildings erected by various Tisrocs over the past thousand years. The view was not especially aesthetic, nor was the noise in the morning very restful, but Ilgamuth could look upward to the open sky and that was inspiration enough.
He was lying on the tiny balcony in the directionless glow that diffused from the palace's innumerable windows, attempting to compose a poem comparing Shezan's eyes to the deepness of the night -- trite, of a certainty, but heartfelt -- when somebody pulled the bell affixed to his door.
"Come," Ilgamuth said, raising his voice just enough to be heard while hopefully not disturbing the inhabitants of the rooms on either side.
The servitor opened the door and knelt on the threshold. "O my lord, Prince Rabadash requests and requires you to gather your arms and join him in the Courtyard of Lions immediately," he said.
Ilgamuth closed his eyes for three heartbeats. Then he sighed and rolled to his feet, adjusting his tunic and turban as he stood. "To hear is to obey."
The servitor pressed his hands to the tiled floor, bowed, and then rose silently and shut the door, presumably continuing to gather Rabadash's companions for whatever new and reckless enterprise the prince had in mind. Granted, Rabadash's obsession with the Narnian queen was less likely to create outright disaster than his attempt to murder the Tisroc (may he live forever) this spring, but foreign wars undertaken for a flashfire passion rather than sober policy were not what Calormen needed.
One should not, of course, discount the chance that Rabadash might yet find a way to wring improbable victory from this humiliation. He had a keen mind, an eye for the opportune moment, and a willingness to think around corners rather than remain a slave to tradition. But Ilgamuth doubted his prince had wrestled his fury under enough control to make a plan that would survive the leap from overheated imagination to cold reality.
Nonetheless, he was Rabadash's man by breath, blood, and name. He would offer what counsel the prince was willing to hear. Then he would dip his sword and spear in blood at Rabadash's command, as he had done for thirteen years.
Ilgamuth buckled his sword around his waist, slung his spear and helmet over his shoulder, and strode through the palace to find his prince.
---------------
---------------
---------------
Then we jump to Anvard the next morning, shortly before the Narnian attack, rather than follow Ilgamuth across the desert. (I am trying to write about events in Calormen that occur in HHB's aftermath, you see, not to recapitulate the entire book.) And then after the battle itself, I think we'd jump to Calormen and Shezan getting news of the catastrophe (but probably not the curse, just yet; Archenland and Narnia will try to keep that secret as long as possible)... but that is a story for another day. *wry*
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-09 01:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-09 07:20 pm (UTC)I posted this fragment mostly as a promise to myself that I WILL sit down and write this story, instead of letting it drift off into the Library of Dreams. I have an outline and everything! (Okay, it's a very VAGUE outline, but still. Outline!)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-09 03:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-09 07:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-09 03:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-09 07:23 pm (UTC)