By way of update, a little over a week ago I finished the second draft of Stoneslayer. I had hoped to reduce the word count under 120k, but I ended up making it about 450 words longer, ending at 123.5k. I've sent it to a ton of beta readers (~20). We'll see whether they get to the end :) So far their suggestions have been to add more...
The University Vignettes:
I suppose I should make a mention of a longstanding project I've had called The University Vignettes (working title). I wrote a random kernel of a short story back in March 2015, which I rediscovered in August 2016 and finished. That project became "The Future's Price", a commentary on the cost of higher education through a very grim fantasy story. You can listen to a reading I did here.
But it doesn't end there. I got the idea to make a series of commentaries in this fashion, which I've tentatively titled The University Vignettes. There will be five short stories all told. They're all separate stories (well, #'s 1 and 4 are from the same POV), but they reference each other and focus around a particular event at the university, the breaking of the Jewel of Tusco (a giant stained-glass window).
Just the other day I finished the second of these stories, named "To What Degree?" The alpha reader reactions have been overwhelmingly positive, which is encouraging. This is a slow burning project though, so there's no telling when exactly I'll make it to the next vignettes. I do already have the epilogue written. I'd like to say I'll finish before the end of summer, but with the helter-skelter angle I've taken with this I'm much more comfortable saying the end of the year. Once they're all done, I'm going to publish them in a little anthology.
Showing posts with label stoneslayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stoneslayer. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Evoking the Fantastical Milieu: Naming
This post will focus specifically on names and words.
Names are powerful. Glance over the two following lists of names:
Names are powerful. Glance over the two following lists of names:
- Daniel, Samuel, Adam, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Joshua, David, Zach, Aaron, Benjamin, Jonathan
- Abdon, Dishon, Jerah, Maher-shalal-hash-baz, Phallu, Urijah, Vophsi, Zeror
If you were raised in a biblically influenced country, the first list will likely seem mundane to you. However, the second list will immediately transport one to a land far away and so unlike our own. In case you didn't guess, all of the above names are from the Bible. If you know your audience, you can evoke impressions and emotions by choosing the right names.
In The Dinosaur Lords, Victor Milan lifts names straight from Spanish (Spañol), French (Francés), German (Alemán), English (Anglysh), and Russian (Slavo). He references countries and principalities in approximately the same locations as Spain, France, Germany, England, and Russia. The primary difference from our world is that they use dinosaurs for warfare. I personally would have preferred an alternate world rather than just an alternate history, but Milan did what he did so that he could immediately put impressions of these countries in our heads without having to devote much time for cultural backgrounds. A shortcut, if you're not looking to build a whole world.
Your names need a sense of uniformity in their foreignness. One option is to pick a language and lift all your names from that language. For Stoneslayer I used Hebrew. I made some rules, like all B's became V's. I often changed A's into E's. The particle 'om' means god (instead of 'el'), so lots of names end with that. Some other things like that. By my count, there are 96 separate names (some are used more than once though). Evrom, Matek, Shaleyu, Verutz, Lahilokh, Hayam. They have a sense of coherency, yet none are familiar to the reader.
For Orluvoq I used Greenlandic. It's a base I've essentially never seen in the books I've read. Orluvoq, Naalagaa, Ikingut, Nunapisu, Arsarneq, Arpap, Paarsisoq, Sinik. Once again, all very foreign, but all similar.
If you have multiple cultures, you need to make sure your naming bases are separate. Choose phonemes (basic units of sound) and some rules, then apply them to your names. In Augmentals I have one language that has a sound where they kiss the M. To represent it I use 'mm'. They also have the voiceless lateral fricative, which I represent with 'tl'. These are things that the reader will likely never consciously know, but their subconscious will pick up on the uniformity and whisper to them, "This is a solid book."
Your names need a sense of uniformity in their foreignness. One option is to pick a language and lift all your names from that language. For Stoneslayer I used Hebrew. I made some rules, like all B's became V's. I often changed A's into E's. The particle 'om' means god (instead of 'el'), so lots of names end with that. Some other things like that. By my count, there are 96 separate names (some are used more than once though). Evrom, Matek, Shaleyu, Verutz, Lahilokh, Hayam. They have a sense of coherency, yet none are familiar to the reader.
For Orluvoq I used Greenlandic. It's a base I've essentially never seen in the books I've read. Orluvoq, Naalagaa, Ikingut, Nunapisu, Arsarneq, Arpap, Paarsisoq, Sinik. Once again, all very foreign, but all similar.
If you have multiple cultures, you need to make sure your naming bases are separate. Choose phonemes (basic units of sound) and some rules, then apply them to your names. In Augmentals I have one language that has a sound where they kiss the M. To represent it I use 'mm'. They also have the voiceless lateral fricative, which I represent with 'tl'. These are things that the reader will likely never consciously know, but their subconscious will pick up on the uniformity and whisper to them, "This is a solid book."
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Anglish
So, good news. I've officially resumed work on Stoneslayer. It's beautiful. I just did a read through with a bit of editing and am sitting at 85,000 words. I expect the finished product to require around 35,000-40,000 more words, so hopefully I'll hit at least 120k with this book. Time and hard work will tell. If I can get my butt in gear I should have the first draft done before the end of August. If not, then hopefully before September's over.
But the other interesting thing is a major series of edits that I made during this read through. See, in this book there's a tribe called the Hanoshites that broke off from the main character's tribe 400 years ago. Because of this, I wanted them to be able to understand each other, but to have distinct dialects. Originally I just had them speaking in sort of an old-timey drawl. But I recently got the idea to have them speak Anglish. Now some of you are thinking, Benny, I think you mean English. But no, Anglish is a purist version of English that only has Germanic roots. Sort of a, "what if Modern English had developed from Old English without any Latin/Greek influence?" Here's an example from the text:
In the end, I think that the Anglish decision has added a great deal of depth to the work and I'm glad I did it, though it took many days. In those remaining 40k words the Hanoshites will appear yet again, so I'll have to delve into the Anglish Wordbook once more.
But the other interesting thing is a major series of edits that I made during this read through. See, in this book there's a tribe called the Hanoshites that broke off from the main character's tribe 400 years ago. Because of this, I wanted them to be able to understand each other, but to have distinct dialects. Originally I just had them speaking in sort of an old-timey drawl. But I recently got the idea to have them speak Anglish. Now some of you are thinking, Benny, I think you mean English. But no, Anglish is a purist version of English that only has Germanic roots. Sort of a, "what if Modern English had developed from Old English without any Latin/Greek influence?" Here's an example from the text:
“We of Hanosh like our crowded gladness—though not to the mark of drunken daze; this the Bodings fastly forbid. In eight of the months, each Tent takes their stint throwing a simbleday. Songwrights, craftsmen, cooks, and so forth make show of their knacks. The other four months, the coming of the yeartides, as they’re hight, are the times of highest gladness. The whole of Hanosh gathers and shares in the best of mirthmaking and feed—though I warn thee, thou mightest never need feed again.” He smiled at his quip. “As luck would have it, the Tamez Simbleday lined up flawlessly with thine incoming.”And that's about what it sounds like. It has a certain elegance to it. But here's the crazy thing. Doing these edits I had to check literally every. Single. Word. To see what its etymology is. The other frustrating thing is that sometimes, there literally aren't any fitting Germanic words for it. One example is tent. Try though I might, I couldn't come up with a suitable substitution. In other instances I had to come up with my own word. Like for encampment I used haltstead.
In the end, I think that the Anglish decision has added a great deal of depth to the work and I'm glad I did it, though it took many days. In those remaining 40k words the Hanoshites will appear yet again, so I'll have to delve into the Anglish Wordbook once more.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
The Stoneslayer aka Moby Dick With Golems (Chapter 1)
So I've had a story idea bouncing around my head for a month or so. Today during a break between classes, I got on my computer and started writing. Several hours later I was finished with the first chapter of a project that's tentatively titled The Stoneslayer. It could be classified as an epic fantasy novella. I project that it will be around 30,000-50,000 words long. I may or may not post any more excerpts of this until it's finished. For now just think of it as Moby Dick with golems. Enjoy and tell me your thoughts.
Edit 7/26/2015: If you've noticed in the sidebar, I have almost 70,000 words. I got a lot more cool ideas as I wrote and expect it to come out to 115-120k.
Evrom raced up a grassy hill, thick metal cudgel on one shoulder, boltslinger on the other. He paused to survey upon reaching the top and frowned. The evnarals, giant rock beasts, were cresting another mound two hills over.
The clatter of clothing beside him signified that Alyozam had made it to the top as well. Evrom pointed. “It’s going to take a mighty pair of legs to catch those beasts.”
Alyozam huffed, trying to regain his breath. “Legs which you surely have, Evrom.”
“I fear they are not as fine as yours, Alyozam,” replied the winner of the footrace.
They both turned as two more men reached the top, completing their party. The oldest of them—though only forty-three—Kerbin, spoke between heaving breaths. “Brothers, these evnarals may be too swift for us.”
“Surely they are not too swift for you, Kerbin,” said the fourth member, Losheimap. The general goal of addressing other people was to prove oneself humbler than they. People often found ways to work around this by saying obviously sarcastic comments in the levelest tone possible.
The men on the hill were stoneslayers, the most impressive occupation one could hold. If it weren’t for their intrepid expeditions to hunt quarries of evnarals, their villages and cities would have no shelter. Their mission was to hunt the living rock so the masons could have dead rock to work with.
But the living rock, the evnarals, were vicious when provoked, tireless, and nigh impenetrable. Being a stoneslayer was no mean task, and the mandatory retirement age was forty-five. The others in the band of stoneslayers enjoyed reminding Kerbin of this in the humblest way possible.
Kerbin smiled. “You are a kind man, Losheimap. Though I could only hope for such success accompanied by you.”
Evrom was the youngest of the group at twenty-four, but he had been hunting the living rock since he was sixteen, the time when Hadaratzians were granted vocational freedom. Alyozam and Losheimap had both been on the hunt for nearly half their lives, being thirty-four and thirty-five respectively.
“Do you think we have strayed too far from home?” asked Evrom. He let the head of his mace fall to the ground.
“I’ve been farther,” Alyozam replied. He slung his boltslinger onto his shoulder and stroked his beard. “It was maybe eight years ago when Kreitah was still hunting the rock. We made it to the Pass of Jerr before we slew the quarry. It was a living terror carting the dead rock back to Desek.” He paused. “Recalling that return trip makes me question whether it would be worth it to pursue these evnarals any longer.”
They all looked toward Kerbin, who steeled his brow in thought. “We will follow for one day longer, then reroute toward Desek if unsuccessful to search for more quarries.”
The three younger stoneslayers nodded in agreement. “Excellent judgment,” they intoned.
The group descended the hill to their horses and carts. Evrom walked up to one of the stone and metal carts and tossed in his cudgel and boltslinger. He turned next to the attached horse and patted its side. Though he wasn’t a short man, he didn’t even come up to the creature’s shoulder. He reached up and unhitched the horse, letting it roam. Kerbin did the same for the other cart.
Losheimap and Alyozam set out in the waning light to gather some dustbush leaves for the fire. For reasons unknown yet not unwelcome, dustbush leaves burned for an inordinate amount of time compared to other plants. A fire could be kept alive for hours off a small bush.
They returned quickly and dinner was soon cooking. The conversation topic of choice was the upcoming coupling.
“It’s been far too long since I’ve coupled,” Losheimap declared, pointing at the others with his spoon.
Alyozam strained some misplaced stew out of his beard and chuckled. “And so it has. But of course you know that we all have been deprived of women for the same amount of time.”
“You are, of course, right, my friend. I was merely stating something we all could resonate with,” Losheimap replied.
“An apt judgment,” said Kerbin. “Six months is much too long between couplings. But of course it is as Gnolom wills it.”
“I firmly believe that you have control of your desires at this point, Kerbin. After over fifty couplings, have you not filled and drained your cup enough times to satisfy?” Losheimap asked with honest inquisition.
Kerbin smiled at the subtle jab at his age. “No matter how many tables you sit at, hunger will drive you to another,” he stated. “It is only a week away, my brothers. Praised be the name of Gnolom for allotting us a time to interact with his daughters!”
“Yes,” Alyozam concurred. “The older I become, the more I cherish their very presence. My desires now are different from my first hungry couplings. I despair that we are only given two days together.”
Evrom let his spoon sink in his stew and stared into the fire. “How many repeats do you usually couple with?” he asked his elders.
“Repeats?” Losheimap almost scoffed, though his humility gave no room to open mockery. “Life is too short and couplings too few to limit myself to one woman. There have been two or three couplings that I spent the entire duration with one woman though.”
Alyozam reclined and looked to the stars. “I’ve had two different repeats. I was foolish and thought I might love them, and I couldn’t stop myself. I have since tried to be more zealous for Gnolom.”
“I myself have had one repeat,” Kerbin admitted. “I was young and foolish, more so than Alyozam here. We spent three consecutive couplings together then got wiser the fourth time around.”
Evrom took their words in with a clenched jaw. The next week would mark his fourteenth coupling and, if plans held, his thirteenth repeat.
The others noticed his tension. “To be caught between two brawling evnarals is better than to be caught with a woman,” Losheimap cited from the Third Message.
“If you carry perplexities, Evrom, do not fear sharing them with us. We are your brothers, not your accusers,” Kerbin said, finishing his stew.
Evrom hesitated. “It’s just...why can we not read the Messages?”
Kerbin grabbed his waterskin and poured some into the clay dish. “The Messages are meant to only be read by the most humble. Tell me, have you ever felt a swell of pride as you ride into the city with a cart full of dead stone?”
Evrom bit his lip. “Yeah. But do you really think that the king has never had any prideswells?”
“It’s not that the king and his court have never had any prideswells, Evrom. It’s that their amount and intensity are so much lower than we could even imagine.” Kerbin waved the bowl around to remove large drops of moisture.
Evrom sighed. The king, Farauv, according to theology was the humblest person on the planet. If it weren’t so, he could not also be the only Deathslayer alive. As the ultimate test of humility and precedent to his coronation, the king underwent a special sacrificial ritual. He lay on an altar and had his throat slit. Five days later, he would rise again completely whole. In the interceding days he would be taught by Gnolom, then return to Hadaratz with a new Message for the people.
Or that was how things once were. There hadn’t been a new Message for over four hundred years. It was declared in the final Message, the twenty-fifth, that there would be no further Messages; the instructions of Gnolom were complete. It also declared that the title of Deathslayer was to become hereditary, though anyone could petition to gain the title at any time. They would simply have to pass through the sacrificial ritual themselves.
“Excuse me if I overstep my bounds, but your demeanor suggests that you might be in the power of pride even now,” Kerbin observed.
Evrom inhaled sharply and tried to purge the feeling from his insides. “Yours by twice,” he said in thanks.
To express gratitude and humility simultaneously, a certain phraseology had worked its way into the Hadaratzian vocabulary. It began as, ‘your life is greater than mine by twice,’ and eventually morphed into just ‘yours by twice’. Of course, a significant level of gratitude was expressed by ‘yours by five’, and the utmost display of humble appreciation was found in the words ‘yours by ten’.
The others had finished and were cleaning out their dishes. “Tell me, Kerbin, in your superior years of experience, have you ever arranged a tryst with one of your couplings?” Losheimap asked.
Kerbin stared into the fire without speaking for a moment. “Such a thing is difficult to manage as a stoneslayer. But as I have just declared that we are brothers and not accusers, I will share something with you. As I said, I was much more foolish than Alyozam. The same woman that I coupled with thrice, I met with her outside of any city on nine separate occasions.”
“Nine!” exclaimed Alyozam. “Gnolom knows if the Paramours have coupled so many times!”
Kerbin smiled ruefully. “Yes, we had actually discussed going to join them. To live with one another out of the king’s reach and be able to love, no holds barred. It was a tantalizing offer.”
“Well what made you change your course? I can’t think that you were caught, for you’re here with us today,” said Alyozam.
Ezrom’s heart paced more quickly as the conversation progressed. If Kerbin and his lover could pull it off, what could Ezrom and Matak accomplish?
“It was what happens to any addicted fool. I kept telling myself that I didn’t love her. I could stop meeting with her at any time. And then I heard a sermon by one of the king’s advisors. He read the part from Message Six where it says, ‘And he loved her, and was filled with pride.’ It was enough to smack me out of my stupidity and recognize that I loved her. Only then was I truly able to humble myself and break it off. I went to the next tryst we had planned and told her we couldn’t meet any more. I told her I didn’t love her. She wept, and so did I as I ran home.” Kerbin’s eyes were dotted with tears even as he told the tale.
“For Eternity’s sake, brother. Have you ever told anyone?” asked Losheimap.
Kerbin shook his head. “You three are the first. I’ve always known that it should be told to some of my stoneslayer brothers, but I never felt right about it until now.”
Ezrom fought a tempest inside. Kerbin’s story—if one tweaked the ending—sounded exactly like what he desired.
“Well I’m glad you trust us enough. Such an admission is a mark of true humility, brother,” said Alyozam.
“Yours by five for your compassion toward my iniquities.” Kerbin smiled at his friend.
“Yours by five for telling us, brother,” said Ezrom. And he meant it, if for different reasons than the other two might.
“But while I’m at it, I have one more confession.” Kerbin gazed over the dark plains toward home. “It was a lie I told her then, and it is a lie even now. I still love her.”
Edit 7/26/2015: If you've noticed in the sidebar, I have almost 70,000 words. I got a lot more cool ideas as I wrote and expect it to come out to 115-120k.
Source: Kari Christensen
Evrom raced up a grassy hill, thick metal cudgel on one shoulder, boltslinger on the other. He paused to survey upon reaching the top and frowned. The evnarals, giant rock beasts, were cresting another mound two hills over.
The clatter of clothing beside him signified that Alyozam had made it to the top as well. Evrom pointed. “It’s going to take a mighty pair of legs to catch those beasts.”
Alyozam huffed, trying to regain his breath. “Legs which you surely have, Evrom.”
“I fear they are not as fine as yours, Alyozam,” replied the winner of the footrace.
They both turned as two more men reached the top, completing their party. The oldest of them—though only forty-three—Kerbin, spoke between heaving breaths. “Brothers, these evnarals may be too swift for us.”
“Surely they are not too swift for you, Kerbin,” said the fourth member, Losheimap. The general goal of addressing other people was to prove oneself humbler than they. People often found ways to work around this by saying obviously sarcastic comments in the levelest tone possible.
The men on the hill were stoneslayers, the most impressive occupation one could hold. If it weren’t for their intrepid expeditions to hunt quarries of evnarals, their villages and cities would have no shelter. Their mission was to hunt the living rock so the masons could have dead rock to work with.
But the living rock, the evnarals, were vicious when provoked, tireless, and nigh impenetrable. Being a stoneslayer was no mean task, and the mandatory retirement age was forty-five. The others in the band of stoneslayers enjoyed reminding Kerbin of this in the humblest way possible.
Kerbin smiled. “You are a kind man, Losheimap. Though I could only hope for such success accompanied by you.”
Evrom was the youngest of the group at twenty-four, but he had been hunting the living rock since he was sixteen, the time when Hadaratzians were granted vocational freedom. Alyozam and Losheimap had both been on the hunt for nearly half their lives, being thirty-four and thirty-five respectively.
“Do you think we have strayed too far from home?” asked Evrom. He let the head of his mace fall to the ground.
“I’ve been farther,” Alyozam replied. He slung his boltslinger onto his shoulder and stroked his beard. “It was maybe eight years ago when Kreitah was still hunting the rock. We made it to the Pass of Jerr before we slew the quarry. It was a living terror carting the dead rock back to Desek.” He paused. “Recalling that return trip makes me question whether it would be worth it to pursue these evnarals any longer.”
They all looked toward Kerbin, who steeled his brow in thought. “We will follow for one day longer, then reroute toward Desek if unsuccessful to search for more quarries.”
The three younger stoneslayers nodded in agreement. “Excellent judgment,” they intoned.
The group descended the hill to their horses and carts. Evrom walked up to one of the stone and metal carts and tossed in his cudgel and boltslinger. He turned next to the attached horse and patted its side. Though he wasn’t a short man, he didn’t even come up to the creature’s shoulder. He reached up and unhitched the horse, letting it roam. Kerbin did the same for the other cart.
Losheimap and Alyozam set out in the waning light to gather some dustbush leaves for the fire. For reasons unknown yet not unwelcome, dustbush leaves burned for an inordinate amount of time compared to other plants. A fire could be kept alive for hours off a small bush.
They returned quickly and dinner was soon cooking. The conversation topic of choice was the upcoming coupling.
“It’s been far too long since I’ve coupled,” Losheimap declared, pointing at the others with his spoon.
Alyozam strained some misplaced stew out of his beard and chuckled. “And so it has. But of course you know that we all have been deprived of women for the same amount of time.”
“You are, of course, right, my friend. I was merely stating something we all could resonate with,” Losheimap replied.
“An apt judgment,” said Kerbin. “Six months is much too long between couplings. But of course it is as Gnolom wills it.”
“I firmly believe that you have control of your desires at this point, Kerbin. After over fifty couplings, have you not filled and drained your cup enough times to satisfy?” Losheimap asked with honest inquisition.
Kerbin smiled at the subtle jab at his age. “No matter how many tables you sit at, hunger will drive you to another,” he stated. “It is only a week away, my brothers. Praised be the name of Gnolom for allotting us a time to interact with his daughters!”
“Yes,” Alyozam concurred. “The older I become, the more I cherish their very presence. My desires now are different from my first hungry couplings. I despair that we are only given two days together.”
Evrom let his spoon sink in his stew and stared into the fire. “How many repeats do you usually couple with?” he asked his elders.
“Repeats?” Losheimap almost scoffed, though his humility gave no room to open mockery. “Life is too short and couplings too few to limit myself to one woman. There have been two or three couplings that I spent the entire duration with one woman though.”
Alyozam reclined and looked to the stars. “I’ve had two different repeats. I was foolish and thought I might love them, and I couldn’t stop myself. I have since tried to be more zealous for Gnolom.”
“I myself have had one repeat,” Kerbin admitted. “I was young and foolish, more so than Alyozam here. We spent three consecutive couplings together then got wiser the fourth time around.”
Evrom took their words in with a clenched jaw. The next week would mark his fourteenth coupling and, if plans held, his thirteenth repeat.
The others noticed his tension. “To be caught between two brawling evnarals is better than to be caught with a woman,” Losheimap cited from the Third Message.
“If you carry perplexities, Evrom, do not fear sharing them with us. We are your brothers, not your accusers,” Kerbin said, finishing his stew.
Evrom hesitated. “It’s just...why can we not read the Messages?”
Kerbin grabbed his waterskin and poured some into the clay dish. “The Messages are meant to only be read by the most humble. Tell me, have you ever felt a swell of pride as you ride into the city with a cart full of dead stone?”
Evrom bit his lip. “Yeah. But do you really think that the king has never had any prideswells?”
“It’s not that the king and his court have never had any prideswells, Evrom. It’s that their amount and intensity are so much lower than we could even imagine.” Kerbin waved the bowl around to remove large drops of moisture.
Evrom sighed. The king, Farauv, according to theology was the humblest person on the planet. If it weren’t so, he could not also be the only Deathslayer alive. As the ultimate test of humility and precedent to his coronation, the king underwent a special sacrificial ritual. He lay on an altar and had his throat slit. Five days later, he would rise again completely whole. In the interceding days he would be taught by Gnolom, then return to Hadaratz with a new Message for the people.
Or that was how things once were. There hadn’t been a new Message for over four hundred years. It was declared in the final Message, the twenty-fifth, that there would be no further Messages; the instructions of Gnolom were complete. It also declared that the title of Deathslayer was to become hereditary, though anyone could petition to gain the title at any time. They would simply have to pass through the sacrificial ritual themselves.
“Excuse me if I overstep my bounds, but your demeanor suggests that you might be in the power of pride even now,” Kerbin observed.
Evrom inhaled sharply and tried to purge the feeling from his insides. “Yours by twice,” he said in thanks.
To express gratitude and humility simultaneously, a certain phraseology had worked its way into the Hadaratzian vocabulary. It began as, ‘your life is greater than mine by twice,’ and eventually morphed into just ‘yours by twice’. Of course, a significant level of gratitude was expressed by ‘yours by five’, and the utmost display of humble appreciation was found in the words ‘yours by ten’.
The others had finished and were cleaning out their dishes. “Tell me, Kerbin, in your superior years of experience, have you ever arranged a tryst with one of your couplings?” Losheimap asked.
Kerbin stared into the fire without speaking for a moment. “Such a thing is difficult to manage as a stoneslayer. But as I have just declared that we are brothers and not accusers, I will share something with you. As I said, I was much more foolish than Alyozam. The same woman that I coupled with thrice, I met with her outside of any city on nine separate occasions.”
“Nine!” exclaimed Alyozam. “Gnolom knows if the Paramours have coupled so many times!”
Kerbin smiled ruefully. “Yes, we had actually discussed going to join them. To live with one another out of the king’s reach and be able to love, no holds barred. It was a tantalizing offer.”
“Well what made you change your course? I can’t think that you were caught, for you’re here with us today,” said Alyozam.
Ezrom’s heart paced more quickly as the conversation progressed. If Kerbin and his lover could pull it off, what could Ezrom and Matak accomplish?
“It was what happens to any addicted fool. I kept telling myself that I didn’t love her. I could stop meeting with her at any time. And then I heard a sermon by one of the king’s advisors. He read the part from Message Six where it says, ‘And he loved her, and was filled with pride.’ It was enough to smack me out of my stupidity and recognize that I loved her. Only then was I truly able to humble myself and break it off. I went to the next tryst we had planned and told her we couldn’t meet any more. I told her I didn’t love her. She wept, and so did I as I ran home.” Kerbin’s eyes were dotted with tears even as he told the tale.
“For Eternity’s sake, brother. Have you ever told anyone?” asked Losheimap.
Kerbin shook his head. “You three are the first. I’ve always known that it should be told to some of my stoneslayer brothers, but I never felt right about it until now.”
Ezrom fought a tempest inside. Kerbin’s story—if one tweaked the ending—sounded exactly like what he desired.
“Well I’m glad you trust us enough. Such an admission is a mark of true humility, brother,” said Alyozam.
“Yours by five for your compassion toward my iniquities.” Kerbin smiled at his friend.
“Yours by five for telling us, brother,” said Ezrom. And he meant it, if for different reasons than the other two might.
“But while I’m at it, I have one more confession.” Kerbin gazed over the dark plains toward home. “It was a lie I told her then, and it is a lie even now. I still love her.”
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