I’m working on a new short story, as sort of an exercise in writing in the world of Jarentho. When it’s done, I’ll offer it with Matthew and Rhianna’s story, When Time Stood Still (from my Scottish time-travel world), in a small inexpensive book. Just for fun. I might also offer this new story as a free download…but I’m still thinking about that.

But I’ve finally got a good beginning to the story. Please forgive the rough spots, for this is only a first draft.

Thoughts, anyone?

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Kieran glanced at the girl who walked two paces behind him and groaned. He knew Pera quite well. And unfortunately, she looked far from ready to give up her impossible scheme.

He forced his tired eyes to focus forty paces beyond her, and what he saw there was even worse. Dark shadows still shifted through the crowd, following every dogged step he took and increasing in intensity as the sun’s more innocent shadows grew longer.

He moved in front of a particularly oversized barrel of a man, hunched his shoulders, and ducked his head out of sight, just as Pera tugged on his cloak again.

“Kieran, please! I could find another courier to take me, but—”

“Can we talk about this later?” he begged, as he eyed the movements of his large shield.

“Later? What if later is too late?”

“It won’t be. Your mother’s not as sick as you think.” He glanced behind them again, then pulled a worried Pera down a narrow lane behind a vendor selling barely-serviceable tunics.

“That’s not what Stacia’s letter said.”

“Your little sister isn’t exactly an apothecary.”

“I know that, but that doesn’t mean that ‘very sick’ means ‘doing fine!’  And this isn’t the way to Father’s booth.”

He sighed and kept moving. Thankfully, Pera followed. Loudly.

“Kieran! Father is back the other w—.”

“I know!”

“Then why are we going this way? We were just over here!”

He didn’t answer. He was having a hard enough time keeping his mind awake enough to lose whomever accompanied the insidious shadows that followed him, let alone argue with Pera at the same time. If only she’d quit demanding an explanation for every blessed step he took!

“Kieran!”

She pulled her arm free and he turned to face her, glancing over her head at the same time. Nothing. Yet.

“I thought we were headed to Father’s booth.”

He sighed, looked into two stubborn brown eyes staring at him from under almost-as-stubborn curls, and forced his tired brain to get creative. “We are going to your father’s booth,” he began, “but…” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around until his gaze fell on a familiar and relatively hidden booth just around the corner. “I want to look at the Irycote daggers for a moment.”

“Again? Twice today wasn’t enough?”

Maybe his creativity was wearing thinner than he thought. He turned back toward her, only to find one adorable eyebrow cocked up and a tinge of amusement lurking in still-worried eyes.

“Humor me,” he said, and he stepped away before she decided either to question him further or to resume her pleas.