What have I read this week? Only the one book.
This is a fantasy novel about a man called Xavir who was a general who was tricked into killing some of his own countrymen and then imprisoned. Some years later, he is persuaded to escape from prison to overthrow those who put him there. I quite enjoyed this, although I felt that the fight at the end was a bit too quick and easy compared to the buildup. I might read more by this author if I came across them.
What have I read this week?
This is a children’s book about a girl named Bea who discovers that she is a witch. I liked it: it was a little predictable in parts, but well done overall. I’d read other books by the author.
This is another book in the Anita Blake series. I didn’t like it, and it’s probably the last of these that I’m going to read. It was too long, full of too much (boring) relationship drama, and the conflict with the big bad felt like it was an afterthought, and got resolved way too quickly.
This month’s word is winged, meaning “having wings”.
————–
How do you tame a winged horse?
Some people say you tame it with kindness, befriending it gradually. Those who believed that died, flung off in midair by a beast they thought was their friend.
Some say you tame it by force, capturing it in a net or bridling it in its sleep. Those, too, are dead, trampled by the enraged beast.
The truth is that you don’t tame a flying horse, but if you are brave enough, perhaps you can make a deal with one.
First you need to locate a flying horse. They tend to live in remote and isolated locations: high mountain plateaus, for example, or rocky islands.
Once you’ve located the horse, you learn its habits, where it drinks, what it eats, and so on. Some flying horses are carnivorous, and some not. Some are nocturnal, and some are not. All are intelligent, and none are friendly. You try to discover something that will please it – food is often acceptable, although some winged horses enjoy small items that can be woven into their manes.
Then you approach, slowly and carefully, but also openly. Winged horses do not like being sneaked up on. Show no fear, because they will not make bargains with cowards. Carry your gift in your hands so they can see it, and do not carry any weapons. If you are armed, they will kill you. They may, of course, kill you anyway; that’s the risk you take.
Ensure you look at the horse you are trying to bargain with, but do not make sustained eye contact. They don’t like that; it reads as a threat.
Hold your gift out on your outstretched hands, and state the terms of the deal you want clearly. Ensure to include stipulations such as “no intentional injuries to be caused” and “to be delivered to the agreed destination within the agreed time period”. Winged horses will exploit any loopholes you leave.
If the horse agrees to your bargain, it will take your offering and allow you to mount it. If it does not, it will take your tribute anyway, and if you are lucky, it will let you go. If you’re not, well, I think you know by now what is going to happen.
Because of the slow and convoluted process involved, nobody has successfully ridden a flying horse. But perhaps you can be the first. If this is really what you want, don’t let me dissuade you. Go chase your dreams: at your own risk.
What have I read this week?
This is a detective novel about a gay lawyer named Henry Rios who is asked to defend a young gay man accused of murder. The characters and plot didn’t particularly grip me, so I’m unlikely to read any more in this series.
This is a children’s book about a boy whose parents are splitting up. He asks the sky to help him and an ice storm occurs. I didn’t really like this. I didn’t find any of the characters compelling, or even particularly likeable.
Meril gazed thoughtfully out the window, wondering how she could contact her wizard.
She already thought of them as hers, although she had no idea if they had any interest in her, or even knew of her existence. When she thought about it, which was rarely, she realised that she knew very little about them.
Wizards were traditionally ungendered, but Meril wasn’t bothered about that. Gender was a complicated business in the little kingdom of Azoudar: priests were always considered female, for what Meril had been informed were important historical reasons that could not be explained to her. (She had long ago worked out that this meant that nobody remembered the real reason.) The King was always the King, and always male even if he was not. (The current King was called Emily, and had given birth to two children.) Meril was aware that other places did not do this; she had read of places where, for example, only men could be kings, but it seemed ridiculous to her. It was only common sense that the best qualified person become king, surely. The only problem she had with the way her kingdom did things was its insistence that a person follow the career path of their parents.
“Because it’s not like breeding horses,” Meril said to herself. “My parents are both highly regarded inkwarriors, and I can’t even write basic glyphs properly.”
And of course, wizards had no names: it was thought to be something to do with the source of their power, but no non-wizard knew the truth of it.
Meril knew she couldn’t leave a note for her wizard, as wizards were illiterate: the written word belonged to inkwarriors – and priests; wizards passed down their secrets by word of mouth and during strange occult rituals. Since wizards were even more insular than inkwarriors, the only rumours that circulated about said rites were extremely vague.
She would have to contrive a meeting, somehow. That would be difficult, since technically she was not allowed out of the house alone. Inkwarriors were very paranoid about their secrets getting out, and hence no inkwarrior went anywhere alone. It was said that this was to avoid kidnappings, but Meril was fairly sure that it was more about not giving anyone the opportunity to sell their secrets. And to be fair, that was a real issue: even Meril, who was not yet a qualified inkwarrior, had had people slide notes into her hands offering her quite surprising amounts of money for her knowledge. She’d never acted on these notes, of course, but then she’d never had the chance. The accompanying inkwarrior had always taken it from her.
“This is going to be difficult,” Meril said to herself.
She brightened suddenly – perhaps there was a way. She would just have to be very picky about who accompanied her on her trip out. She needed someone older, and slower. And she would have to time it perfectly.
Two days later, Meril put her plan into operation. She had been noting her wizard’s travels, and knew that they always passed her house at three hours past noon. She therefore arranged her trip out so that she would be returning home at that time.
Meril ensured that she was ahead of her escort, a slow-moving, easygoing inkwarrior called Bari. As they were nearly home, Bari wasn’t too worried about Meril striding ahead. Meril saw her wizard approaching and sped up a little, so that she bumped into them just after they passed her door.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Meril said quickly. “But I just need you to know that I love you.”
The wizard stared at her.
“But… you’re an inkwarrior.”
“I know that,” Meril said sharply. “I’m fully aware of that. I just…”
“Meril!” Bari shouted. “Are you talking to that wizard?”
The wizard stepped around Meril and strode off quickly down the street. Meril sighed as she watched them go.
“Just apologising for bumping into them,” she replied.
“Well… I suppose that’s all right. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
“I won’t,” Meril promised. After all, the wizard clearly hadn’t been interested. Maybe it was time to give up on love and concentrate on her studies, like Paro had told her.
This is another new poem.
off kilter
at an angle to the world
i clutch the wall
like i’m hanging from a cliff
as if that grip
is the only thing that can save me
i spin
standing still
the world rock solid
and me in motion
internally
What have I read this week? Very little, once again.
This is a science fiction novel about a man called Nyquist. It seems to be a sort of sequel to A Man of Shadows, as it features the same main character, although it doesn’t really reference the events of the previous book, and could easily be read as a stand-alone. It was kind of interesting but didn’t really grip me.
Another new poem.
the river is high this morning
solitary birds flap above
waves wrinkle the surface
bottles bob like ducks in the current
surf crashes against the embankment steps
low clouds block out the sun
promising rain
on a dingy winter morning
crossing the bridge
What have I read this week? Very little.
This is a non-fiction book about gender roles and how gender is constructed. I found it interesting and thought-provoking, as well as funny. I would definitely read more books by the author.
This month’s word is improve, meaning “to bring into a more desirable or excellent condition”.
——————
When it came right down to it, most people were willing to bargain with demons. The chance to improve instantly, to become the perfect version of themselves, was too tempting to resist.
And it wasn’t like the demonic bargains you read about in myths. There was no loophole, no hidden fine print, no catch. You got what you asked for. More than that, you got what you wanted. Of course, you were going to be eternally tortured once you died, but there’s a downside to everything. And most people managed to ignore that part, anyhow: the general feeling seemed to be “I’ll probably go to hell anyway, might as well get some benefit from it”.
So demonic bargains were common, is what I’m saying. If somebody’s life suddenly improved, most people assumed they’d made a deal with a devil. After all, why struggle to do it the hard way, and possibly fail, when success could be guaranteed?
There were some who railed against it, saying that the chance of heaven was worth pain and failure here on earth, but most people ignored them. Once their life started going downhill, most people would go to their nearest demonic summoning station.
The process was simple: you took one of the small needles available, pricked your finger and put a few drops of blood in the receptacle. A demon appeared and you negotiated for what you wanted. Very simple, practically foolproof. And yet, Tod managed to mess it up.
He didn’t mean to, of course. Whenever he caused catastrophe, it was never deliberate or malicious. He was the giant puppy of destruction. And he nearly ruined the demonic bargaining system forever.
He didn’t like needles, you see. And you can already tell how this is going to go. He brought a friend, and used a few drops of the friend’s blood to activate the receptacle, and then made a bargain in his own name. This worked fine – until, a few years later, his friend decided he too wanted to make a bargain with a demon.
Because, as it turned out, the bargain is actually made with the person whose blood is used, and so a number of beings were extremely angry:
Those who thought it was no big deal:
At this point, a number of changes were rapidly made to the system, the main one being that a demon was stationed in each summoning station to watch people give their blood. This was an unpopular, because boring, job, and the majority of the demons doing it spent their time coming up with special punishments for Tod, should they ever get their claws on him.
Tod was fully aware of this, because he liked to people-watch back on Earth, but he wasn’t worried since he knew that there were no take-backs for heaven: once you were in, you were in. He did feel a little sorry for his friend, but mostly he felt smug. Somehow he, Tod, an average individual, had outsmarted hell. He was actually kind of proud of that.
Random Ramblings 