by Howell, Rob
The Eyes of a Doll
By Rob Howell
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Rob Howell
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
ISBN (Print Version): 978-0-9961259-4-9
ISBN (Electronic Version): 978-0-9961259-3-2
Cover art copyright © 2015 by Patrick McEvoy, http://www.megaflowgraphics.com.
Edited by Kellie M. Hultgren, http://kmhediting.com/Welcome.html.
Lyrics on page 66 used with permission from the song Valkyrie Daughter, by S.J. Tucker, www.sjtucker.com.
Table of Contents
The Eyes of a Doll
Table of Contents
Dedication
Foreword and Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Appendix One – People
Appendix Two – Places
Appendix Three – Glossary
Appendix Four – Calendar of Shijuren
Appendix Five – Magic in Shijuren
Dedication
To Earnie McKee, one of the first people to write me and ask for a sequel to A Lake Most Deep. I am sorry I did not write this one fast enough for you to get a chance to see it.
Foreword and Acknowledgments
Thanks for purchasing The Eyes of a Doll, the second in my series following the life of Edward Aethelredson in the Empire of Makhaira. The first book in this series, A Lake Most Deep is also on Amazon. The third is scheduled to come out around Thanksgiving, 2016.
This is also the second book in the world of Shijuren.2016 will see two other series in Shijuren begin. One will follow Irina, the former Great Mother of Periaslavl, as she steps down from her throne and begins her life as nothing more than a normal, though talented, person trying to find her way. The other will center on Koldobika, a Reader from Matara. He is sent by his superior to view and record events, but finds more than he expected. I envision both as trilogies, but we shall see. Characters sometimes demand that I write more of their story than I expect.
People often ask me what is required to write a novel. It’s a difficult question for me, in part because this is only my second published one, and I often fall back to Somerset Maugham’s statement: “There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”
Still, there are a couple of suggestions I feel comfortable making. For me, the only way to write 100,000 word novels is to write consistently. I find that 10,000 is my absolute maximum in a day. Whenever I push myself to write over 5,000 words in a day, my mind is worthless for the rest of that day and also the following day. However, if I consistently write around 2,000, I find myself somewhere along the way with the foundation of an actual novel.
In other words, keep writing. At the very least, watch everything around you for cool bits of the universe you can use to improve your story. Use the voice recorder on your phone. Take notes in whatever way seems useful to you. Every moment can be the one that gives you the piece that makes your story flow.
Build yourself a good team. Yes, you are the one who writes your story. It’s your baby. But it takes a village to raise a baby and it takes a village to write a book. Start with a good editor. I know some authors can completely self-edit their work. I am not that author, and I believe most of us need help looking at our own writing.
My main editor on this book was Kellie M. Hultgren. She spent much of the process pointing out when I was thinking too poetically instead of writing prose. She taught me all sorts of things as we collaborated. I am often a willing student, but there are times when I made conscious decisions to do things my way, even if that was not technically correct. If you spot them, don’t blame Kellie, blame that stubborn jerk of a writer she had to deal with.
Another specific suggestion is that if you can, make sure your mother is a professional editor. Having a mom who is trained to spot grammatical and typographical errors is a great asset. Thanks, Mom!
In a first draft of 100,000 words, there are thousands of mistakes. Even the best editor misses some of these. Even if you have two editors, they’ll miss something. It’s just too big of a haystack. Find readers who will tell you when something is bad, both simple mistakes and story errors. It’s also important for them to tell you when something is good.
If you are self-publishing, you have to balance how much time you spend on artwork, production, and promotional materials yourself versus the money you’re willing to spend to get help. For me, I’ve been blessed to have Patrick McEvoy to create the artwork for both books. I love how he captured the personality of Nadja, the doll.
There are many others who helped me along the way. Jenn Nemec has been there for me time and again. Stephen Boyd has provided me with wisdom, in his Byzantine fashion, and a place to write and sell at Pennsic. Please visit us at Calontir Trim. Jason Cordova helped with the blurb, a skill I struggle with. Trevor Payne helped with some promotional materials. Many thanks to Cedar Sanderson and Susan Carroll-Clark, whose positive reviews of A Lake Most Deep helped me keep going during the grinding slog that happens to me around 60,000 words.
There are so many others who have mentioned my books to their friends, pointed out a mistake, asked questions, simply encouraged me by asking me when the next book was coming out. I simply don’t have time or space to list all of these people, but I could not do this without them.
That’s enough of the boring stuff. I’ll conclude this by inviting you to chat with me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/robhowell.org, send comments and suggestions to [email protected], or follow my blog, Howell’s Howls, at www.robhowell.org/blog.
Again, thank you for reading The Eyes of a Doll.
- Rob Howell
Prologue
Late Morning, 27 Gersmoanne, 1712 MG
The tall man focused on a shard of onyx held firmly in a padded vise. With a light hammer and a tiny chisel, he periodically tapped the jewel.
“My lord,” came from behind him.
He motioned at the voice to be quiet as he compared the onyx in his vise to a drawing sitting on his workbench. Momentarily satisfied, he looked up at his visit
or.
“Yes, Gregorius?”
“My lord, I have a report about happenings in Dassaretum Province.”
He waited for his visitor to continue.
“Pal has been removed from his position as zupan. Vesela has taken over.”
“Really? So quickly? I would not have thought that of Vesela. Perhaps we were mistaken in our assessment of her?”
Gregorius shook his head. “No, my lord, I think we were correct. What we did not plan for was the arrival of an outsider.”
“An outsider? Who?”
“I merely know what our kurioi can pass on. We don’t yet have a full report. We expect a courier to arrive around the tenth or eleventh.”
“Ah. So this happened recently.”
“Yes, four or five days ago, I believe.”
“No word of the outsider?”
“Only that he is from the Seven Kingdoms.”
“Indeed? And he is capable enough to have helped Vesela oust Pal?”
“It seems so, though again, we are waiting for a written report.”
“I wonder if he is coming to seek entrance in the Imperial Guard.”
“He might be. We don’t know yet, my lord.”
“We should investigate the possibility. He might be useful.”
“I shall send instructions.”
The man idly picked up a different piece of onyx with his pliers and lifted it to see light slide along the lighter imperfections of the black stone.
“If this only happened a few days ago, then you can undoubtedly report little of the repercussions.”
“As you say, my lord, though of course I shall report those when I know.”
“We can make a few assumptions, though. We can assume the Enchelei are in some disarray with the death of Pal.”
“I do not believe he is dead, my lord.”
“Indeed? Explain.”
“The report does not explain what exactly happened, only that Pal was allowed to leave Gropa Mansion after Vesela took over.”
“Why would Vesela let that happen?”
“I do not know, my lord.”
The tall man thought for a moment and finally shrugged.
“I suspect his survival is a good thing from our perspective, but time will tell.”
He paused.
“Do you have anything else to report from Achrida?”
“Nothing important enough to merit using magic, my lord, but of course we still have couriered reports arriving.”
“Excellent. And Andreas?”
Gregorius chuckled.
“He is performing his duties exactly as expected. Vukasin controls him easily enough. Pal did as well, and I have little doubt that Vesela will manage. Everyone else in Dassaretum seems impressed with his greed and venality. He is apparently amassing a large personal fortune by accepting bribes. The only surprise is that he actually tries to fulfill the terms of those bribes.”
“We didn’t expect him to be honestly corrupt.”
The two men shared a laugh.
“What about Vukasin?”
“The Dassaretae could be a problem in a few years,” allowed Gregorius.
“But not now?”
“It will be difficult to rein them in while the Enchelei are so troubled.”
“Of course.” The tall man nodded. “In that case...”
“In that case, I shall report when the couriers have arrived.”
He started to leave but halted as the tall man lifted a finger.
“I am intrigued by this Sevener. Keep me updated about him. I can always use someone who possesses such talents.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
Gregorius bowed and left.
The tall man considered the report again and then dismissed it from his mind. He had more important things to do at the moment. He turned back to his workbench and the onyx he was shaping into eyes.
The Emperors of Makhaira had, after all, two traditional hobbies over the centuries. Tinkering with machinery of metal had always been far more fun than tinkering with machinery of empire, though that provided great enjoyment as well.
In any case, Nikephoros was a conscientious man, and he would give to his children both a complex, smooth-walking doll and a complex, smooth-running empire for them to play with when the time arose.
Chapter 1
Late Afternoon, 29 Gersmoanne, 1712 MG
I felt better than I had in many years.
One reason was the table sitting before me. It had become my standard table in the Frank Faerie, which had been my home for most of the past month. The family who ran the Faerie had welcomed me with open arms. In the nearly six years since my lord had been slain, no place had seemed so comfortable. Not even the izba in Periaslavl where I had spent the previous three years.
The full mug of ale upon that table was another reason. The Frank Faerie’s brew tasted as good as the owner boasted. Ragnar would not tell me all of his secrets, but he admitted the crisp, cool water of the lake sitting next to this strange city of Achrida improved his ale.
The food that would soon appear was a third reason. Ragnar’s wife, Zoe, could work magic in the kitchen, maybe not true magic of the Five Streams, but near enough. The aromas from her kitchen could not fail to brighten anyone’s mood. I happily awaited that night’s creation.
Melia, the gray tabby who ruled the Faerie, also awaited that night’s food. I rubbed her belly as she stretched out with no shame or propriety. She responded to my petting with rhythmic purring. Every once in a while she would get up, butt my hand with her head, turn around two or three times, and resume lounging in exactly the same position.
I stretched back and took stock. During the previous month I had earned a series of wounds, one in each shoulder and another in the meaty part of my thigh. Zoe had tended to them with the ease of much practice, and only the thigh wound continued to hurt. Well, much, at least.
With my feet sprawled before me, I considered when I would need to continue my trip to the Great City and my future. Achrida was simply a stopping point on my way to join the Emperor’s service, but somehow I had gotten caught up in the politics of this crazy place and stayed here about a month.
The month had given me lessons, as well as wounds, friends, and enemies that I would not soon forget. Nevertheless, though the Frank Faerie and Ragnar’s family had become more of a home to me than any since my lord’s meadhall, I could not stay here forever.
As I planned my future, Honker Harald, one of the regulars in the Faerie, came over shyly.
“Master Edward.”
“Honker, we’ve drunk too much ale together at this point for you to be calling me master.”
He nodded, but stayed there standing nervously.
“Please, Honk, sit down. How can I look past your nose and see your eyes when you’re standing up?”
That got a short laugh, and he sat down, clearly still not at ease.
“Well, it’s just this, Sevener…”
He paused and started to rise.
“Never mind, it’s silly.”
“Wait. At least tell me what it is. You can’t make me curious and not tell me. Besides, you’re disturbing Melia.”
He hesitated again, glancing at the cat, who was now sitting up in curiosity.
I called across the taproom, “Karah, bring Honk a mug of ale and tell him he can’t leave my table until he drinks it.”
“Stop shouting at me or I’ll pour the mug in your lap.”
A glare followed the angry shout, but so did a mug. The regulars in the Faerie laughed quietly and kept their heads down, lest she turn her flashing eyes at them.
Honker took the mug and drank most of it immediately.
“What’s bothering you, Honk?”
“Well, it’s just that… I mean, it’s nothing, but… Well, me daughter’s lost somethin’ and, well, I haven’t the time… and, well…”
He finished the mug and started to rise.
/> “Wait. Your daughter lost something and you don’t have the time to get it, and you want me to get it back?”
“I said it was stupid.”
“What did she lose?”
“Well, me daughter’s but six, and she had this doll I made for her last birthday.”
“And she lost her doll?”
He hung his head. “Yeah. We were visiting the springs.”
“Biljana’s Springs?”
He nodded.
“I don’t blame you a bit, Honk. Svetislav took me there once. It’s beautiful. The water tastes amazing, and it’s so cold.”
He nodded again, this time with a smile.
“So you and your family spent an afternoon by the springs, and your daughter lost her doll. You want me to go look for it because you don’t have the time it will take.”
“Yeah… I mean, I’m sorry to have bothe—”
“Oh, don’t be silly, I wouldn’t mind going to the springs. This is as good a reason as any. I’ll be happy to take a look.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Of course not. But really, I’m happy to help you. You’ve picked up a cudgel to stand at my back when I came bleeding into the Faerie a night or two. You didn’t have to do that, either. I might not find it, but I’ll enjoy the trip. I’ll do it tomorrow morning.”
Honker got up with a smile bigger than his mighty nose and nodded his thanks.
“Wait, what color is it?”
“Oh, right. Well, Sevener, it’s got a dress of a white scraps where me wife embroidered small blue waves on the hem and cuffs.”
“Excellent, I should easily be able to recognize it.”
He returned to his normal table with Marko and Flavian. I heard Flavian’s weird laugh as they teased Harald about seeking my help with a doll.
Karah came by for his mug and gave me a slightly less angry sniff than was her wont.
I finished two more mugs while Zoe worked her magic for the evening. As Ragnar brought dinner out, Melia jumped off of my table collect her tithe from all those eating Zoe’s feast.
“Well, Sevener, I’m to be seein’ that yer to be havin’ yet another job here in this fine city. And I’m to be bein’ certain it’s a might less of a hunt than all them’s writin’ of the Naumites. Yer a fine fellow, I’m to be thinkin’ and it’s a good thing yer to be doin’.”