A Quick Question

For those who read the E-arcs

I asked for suggestions on how to publicize the book, and someone (I can’t remember who) suggested doing AI videos.

I’ve been doing AI videos of Elly for a while. For instance, this is the archmagician, Nikre and the ruby (the ruby is the wrong shape, but that can’t be helped.

(Nor the fact the AI insists on giving them facial hair…. Eh. I can try.) I wrote a cute little vignette to go with this (see at bottom.)

Anyway, my question is: Knowing that the AI is really bad about battle (It seems to think people fight laser weapons or…. it’s just bad) what scenes from the book would you like me to render and animate?

Oh, this is the cute little vignette:

The Ruby

Eerlen:

It was impossible to look at Nikre for any amount of time and not feel angry. Not at Nikre. Nikre was a beautiful child. Brinarian, and therefore smaller and darker than most children in the royal palace: his skin an even gold, his curly hair dark brown, and his eyes a deep, dark amber that seemed to change with the light and his mood.

But beyond all that, he was a quiet child, attentive and pliable. He never complained of anything, to the point that it was imperative to watch him at all times, in case he had any difficulties. Because he’d never tell you. In fact he’d endure any discomfort and pain in an attempt not to cause trouble. And he had archmagician level power, though he was nowhere near the stability where he would be ready to inherit, and at any rate archmagician was not just a matter of power but of learning. And on that, Nikre studied hard, and never complained or asked for a day of rest.

Which is why it was impossible to look at the child and not get angry. Not at the child but at the circumstances under which Nikre had come into Eerlen’s life.

Eerlen had heard rumors of a child with archmagician power in a small fishing village in Brinar, where no one else had magical power. If he’d known what was happening, he’d have gone the same day. As was, he’d waited a week, but he had to go and investigate because non magicians and an archimagician child – whom reports said was variously two, three or four years old – could spell trouble. You never knew when the child would start using magic, and if he wasn’t linked to the ruby where he would find the power. Highly gifted children could kill by accident. And did.

As was he’d gotten there just in time. It wasn’t an unusual situation. Nikre’s body-parent had died when Nikre was two years old. His sire had almost immediately sworn a new lover. After which they seemed to have, between the two of them, to dispose of the toddler, so that Nikre’s sire could gift his new sworn a brand new fishing boat which Nikre had inherited from his parent by line right.

They’d tried starving and beating first, anything that would, quietly, cause the child not to thrive and die, in a way the small village wouldn’t blame on them. When that failed—

When Eerlen arrived he was told the child had been taken out to fish with his parents. But the neighbor who told him of it was suspicious and told Eerlen the family situation and they’d never before had spent any time with the child, willing. In fact, the small, poor village had been feeding the child, quietly, behind his family’s back, and they all felt something was very wrong.

So the neighbor had taken Eerlen out in his own boat. They’d still been a long distance away when Nikre’s sire and his new sworn had thrown the three year old – as Eerlen had found later – over the boat and into the sea. If Eerlen hadn’t been a magician – if he’d not been the archmagician – Nikre would have been dead. As it was, it had taken throwing his power, encircling him, and pulling him – coughing and sputtering and streaming seawater – into the neighbor’s boat. And had sent Nikre with the neighbor, to dry and warm at a fire, and waited to meet the criminals.

“What did you do with them?” Myrrir had asked when Eerlen told thim the story.

Eerlen had shaken his head. He had, as clan leader and as archmagician, killed before. Of course he had. But this was different.

They’d been sitting on the cushions in Myrrir’s room – their room, since Eerlen slept there, though for formality sake, he had a small room adjacent – and Myrrir had touched Eerlen’s tunic over his ankles. “Did your wicked little knives take action?”

Eerlen sighed. “It had to be done. In front of the village. It had to be known it would not be forgiven. I did mind-ask head of fourth for consent. I had after all witnessed attempted murder. As had the neighbor.”

“Very correct,” Myrrir said, his mouth quirking on the right side, and the kind of amusement in his voice he often showed about what Eerlen did, though Eerlen rarely understood what was so amusing. But then Myrrir’s expression clouded. “I would not have been, Eerlen. I’d have strangled them with my bare hands, and hang the fourth circle authority over attempted murder.”

Eerlen had laughed, because it was impossible not to, and leaned into Myrrir. “Not gory enough.”

That night they had decided that Nikre would not be put up for fostering in the brotherhood, that he would be adopted by the Archmagician and the king of Elly, themselves. Eerlen would be his adopted parent and Myrrir his foster sire.

Perhaps it hadn’t been the best for the child. Or perhaps it had. Perhaps what Nikre had endured as a very young child had already made him who he was. Though Myrrir threatening anyone with death who so much as looked at the child in a wrong way couldn’t have helped. It had taken a good two years for the children of the palace to approach Nikre or play with him.

But at six he did play with children now and then. Mostly he played with Brundar Mahar, Myrrir’s three year old child, and, that day, with Kahre Sarda, Myrrir’s sireling by the late governor of Karrash. Kahre was a year older than Nikre and was visiting that day. From Eerlen’s seat, on one of the stone benches, he watched the three children play near the Koi pond. Kahre and Nikre were trying to teach Brundar to play with dolls, but Brundar’s idea of playing with dolls was to undress them and then fling them at one of his play companions. Which was fairly normal. Little Brund viewed dolls as projectiles. Though the undressing was a new thing, and he’d have to tell it to Myrrir who doubtlessly would make it into a funny story to tell all visitors.

Other older children might have lost patience by now, but Nikre would pick up the doll, and Kahre would dress it, and they’d bring it back to Brund, and demonstrate how to hold the doll. He couldn’t hear what they said, but the older children must have been speaking of why dolls should be held and not thrown, because he caught the words “Baby, Brund. Baby. You don’t throw babies.”

Eerlen was fairly sure between now and his late teens or early twenties Brundar would work through to that idea. Hopefully. Otherwise the court would be very shocked indeed.

As he stretched his legs, he watched Brundar do what he did, lie down on the grass and go to sleep, thumb in his mouth, with the suddenness of very young children.

The older children settled down to play with the dolls and Eerlen was lost in his own thoughts, until he felt someone sit next to him, and looked. Kahre was sitting on the grass rocking the doll and singing something that, from this distance, sounded like a lullaby.

Eerlen looked to his side, where Nikre had slipped to sit beside him on the stone bench. “Didn’t you want to play?”

Nikre shrugged. “It’s Kahre’s doll,” he said. Then hurriedly, “He’d share. But the doll has a name, and—” He shrugged.

“You could bring out your own doll,” Eerlen said. And realized immediately that he’d said something wrong, because Nikre gave him a quick look, then blushed and shrugged. And Eerlen realized they’d never given the child a doll. And of course, he wouldn’t ask. Most of the time he followed Eerlen around or pored over his studies of magical formulas. But-- That quick longing look had said enough. Eerlen would have to figure out where the best dollmakers were. Long ago, Eerlen’s parents had made him cloth dolls, but Eerlen didn’t have the time.

Nikre had got off the seat, and leaned against Eerlen’s shoulder. He looked at the Archmagician’s ruby over Eerlen’s tunic. “He says I’m his.”

Eerlen blinked. “He?” He removed the ruby over his head and held it in his hand, his idea being to keep the child away from it. The ruby was… strange and impaired in ways Eerlen didn’t understand.

Nikre pointed at it. The ruby shone.

“Don’t,” Eerlen said. “Don’t touch it. What did it tell you? How did it tell you?”

Nikre looked up, his eyes amber and concerned. “He. He’s a person. No… not a person… but he talks.”

Eerlen nodded. “He does. What did you hear. Was it words?”

Nikre nodded, solemnly. “He… it said that I need to study hard because…” He looked up, and Eerlen realized there were tears over the amber. “It says if you die I will have to be the archmagician and … and wear the ruby. And… and be master over the brotherhood.” He sniffled. “But I don’t want you to die.”

Eerlen put the ruby on, and slipped it under his tunic, then gathered the child in his arms. “Nikre. Wearing the ruby and being the archmagician is a big responsibility, and it is not fun, but when the time comes I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”

Nikre shook his head. “Not that. I mean, I’ll try.” He looked up and the amber was drowned in tears, “But I don’t want you to die.”

Eerlen thought of many things. Birthing was perilous. And war was perilous. And Eerlen needed to do both. He could die at any moment. But there were times to tell children the truth. And times not to. Or to tell it in a different way.

He pulled Nikre onto his lap. The child was small. Brundar was already almost his size. “I can’t promise not to die,” he said. “But I’m going to do my best not to.”

The little hand clutched at Eerlen’s tunic. “You promise?”

“I promise. Not for a good long time, not until you’re older than I am.”

Nikre sniffled again. “An Myrrir won’t die either?”

“Not for a good long time. Not until you’re all grown and don’t need us.”

Nikre said something in a whisper. Eerlen said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that.”

“I’ll always need you,” Nikre said, and clutched desperately at Eerlen’s tunic. Eerlen rocked him until he was asleep. Kahre had fallen asleep next to Brundar, clutching his doll.

All was peaceful in the garden.

And Eerlen felt suddenly that though perhaps they weren’t the family that Nikre should have had, they were his family. And it was good.