It's been an exhausting week. I've been plotting an episode of a new TV project, and writing
Wolverine #8, which I think is one of the best single comics I've been responsible for. I may actually give myself tomorrow off, and bake a cake. Tom had three more inoculations yesterday, and was upset for a couple of minutes, but remains a very brave boy. We've been enjoying our long daily walks, when he goes to sleep and I listened to audiobooks and podcasts, including, this week, Grant Morrison's rather wonderful
Supergods.
Next Wednesday is the release day of
Wolverine #1, and I'll be signing it at (and you can get an exclusive variant cover from), London's Forbidden Planet, from 6pm. The last of my week of interviews about the project deals with Wolverine's friends, and can be found
here.
Tonight is rather special for a friend of mine, Eddie Robson, in that his BBC Radio 2 SF comedy series,
Welcome to our Village, Please Invade Carefully, starring Hattie Morahan, Julian Rhind-Tutt and Peter Davison, begins at 9.30pm. I found the pilot episode utterly delightful. You can find deleted scenes and see the cast
here. (US readers will indeed be able to hear it when it's on the BBC iPlayer, radio being more amicable than TV in that regard.)
There's a new Kickstarter project I'd like to bring to your attention today: the Arthur C. Clarke Award people are holding a one day conference at the Royal Society on May 1st, called Write the Future, and they're selling tickets and gathering revenues through this very modern means. You can see the scheme in full
here. And here's the video...
It's interesting to note how many people have opted for one of the more expensive pledge rewards, £100 getting you Clarke Director Tom Hunter's skills in social media, marketing and PR. I should think this project will easily get the £2001 (ahem) it seeks in the next 25 days.
I'm very enthusiastic about another Kickstarter project, Goldtiger by my friends Jimmy Broxton and Guy Adams. They've recently added pictures of the rather wonderful faux-1960s merchandise a pledge can get you to the site, and they've been out and about promoting it, both of them being interviewed and Jimmy answering Nine Questions (some of which are about our time together on Knight and Squire here. Goldtiger looks to be an excellent recreation of the feel of 1960s British newspaper strips, and has a fashionable zing about it. Do check it out.
I had a good time at the Sci-Fi Weekender, hosting a very warm and happy panel about worldbuilding in novels, having drinks with many old friends and new and running another game of Just A Minute...
(Photo by Aidan Moran.) From right, that's Emma, Gareth, scorer Fran Terminiello, me, Stacia and Chris. Gareth beat Emma by one point, and a good time was had by all.
But speaking of Emma Newman, it's a big day for her too, and I'm pleased to say she's chosen this blog to host the final installment of what's been an enormous project for her: her
Split Worlds stories. I'll let her explain it herself. Take it away, Emma...
"In 2013 Angry Robot books will be publishing three Split
Worlds novels, the first is out in the UK today and is called Between Two
Thorns. I've been releasing a new story every week for a year and a day,
hosted on a different site every time, all set in the Split Worlds. I wanted to
give readers a taste of my kind of urban fantasy and have the opportunity to
build in secrets and extra bits for those people who, like me, love the tiny
details. It's also been a major part of my world-building work alongside
writing the novels.
This is the fifty-fourth – and last - tale in the year and a
day of weekly short stories set in The Split Worlds. If you would like me to read it to you
instead, you can listen here. You can find
links to all the other stories, and the new ones as they are released here. You can
also sign up to get the stories delivered to your inbox, one per week for a
year and a day.
The Ugly Wish
Cathy leaned out of the open window further than she was
allowed. She could smell honeysuckle and car fumes. The low rumble of the
city's traffic comforted her. She wished she could see it from her bedroom window
but there was nothing except the beautiful garden with its perimeter of dense
hedges and tall trees. A vapour trail scratched a white line in the blue above
her and she wanted to be on the plane making it.
A knock on the door made her pull back in and sit on the
bed, but when she saw it was only her brother she was back at the window in
moments.
"Nervous?"
She nodded. "Do you miss it Tom?"
"What?"
"Mundanus."
He came to her side, so tall now. His shoulders filled the
remaining width of the window. He drew in a deep breath and smiled.
"Sometimes. It gets easier. There's less pressure on me to stay in the
Nether of course."
"I thought you'd have left for your Grand Tour by
now."
"I do miss the birdsong in the morning."
He was holding something back. "Don't you want to see
the world? I'd do despicable things for the chance to leave Bath."
He rested a hand on hers. "I wasn't ready to leave
yet."
With a sharp stab of guilt, Cathy realised why. "You
don't need to stay for me."
He kissed the top of her head. "I'd worry too much. I
want to see you settled. Somewhere else."
She looked away from the sadness in his eyes and focused on
the poppies waving in the breeze below. She shivered. "Were you
nervous?"
"A little, yes."
"What's the Patroon like?"
"Stern. Like father but much older. The oldest person
I've ever seen. He has rather large ears. Don't stare at them like I did."
"Did he give you what you asked for, then and
there?"
"Cat," he prodded her ribs. "You know we're
not supposed to talk about that."
The door opened with no warning knock and her younger
sister, Elizabeth, entered in a bouncy froth of lace and ringlets. "It's
today! Oh, hello Thomas. I woke so early. Are you excited Catherine?"
"No." She didn't want to participate in her
dramatics.
"I suppose it's because you're so ancient,"
Elizabeth flopped onto the bed. "Fancy, eighteen years old! You must be
the oldest debutante in the history of Aquae Sulis!"
"Elizabeth." her name emerged as a rumble from
Tom's mouth.
"It's only the truth! Mama says I'm so accomplished
I'll debut at sixteen."
"So you'll be married off a whole two years earlier,
lucky you," Cathy replied but Elizabeth had never grasped sarcasm.
"I know exactly what I'm going to wish for. Do
you?"
"You know the rules, Elizabeth," Tom said and she
pouted at him.
"What are you doing here anyway? You had your coming of
age ceremony months and months ago."
Tom shared a look with Cathy that she'd missed since he
left, the one expressing disbelief they could be related to such an
empty-headed doll of a girl.
"I came to see if Cathy was-"
"Golly! I'll be the only one left in the mundane wing
of the house! I hope they find a new governess for me soon, I shall be lonely.
Hopefully she'll be better than the last one."
Cathy leaned further out of the window, hoping the breeze
would cool the urge to punch Elizabeth into next week.
"She doesn't understand," Tom whispered to her.
"She never will, the spiteful little b-"
"Time to get dressed, Catherine." Her mother's
announcement from the doorway made her bang her head on the window frame.
Tom embraced her and led Elizabeth out of the room as she
chattered about the gown she wanted to wear for her ceremony. Cathy followed
her mother into the main part of the house, disliking the feeling of crossing
the threshold into the Nether. It was like walking through spider webs and the
air seemed stale on the other side. It was really happening. Would she be able
to do as she planned? Could she see this through?
As tradition dictated, she was dressed by her mother instead
of the maid and it was deeply unpleasant. Her mother's critical eye scanned her
appearance at every stage, from chemise, then corset to ivory gown. Poppies
were embroidered around the top of the bodice and the edge of the train. It was
the grandest dress she'd ever worn and she felt just as fake as the stitched
flowers.
"Have you decided what to wish for?" Her mother
asked.
"I think so."
"It's a difficult choice," she said. "But
having reflected upon it, I think you should ask the Patroon for beauty. You're
so plain it's a necessity. Whilst I feared you'd be unable to survive without wishing
for grace, I think that could be overlooked if your face was more pleasing to
the eye. And grace charms are less expensive and easier to maintain."
Cathy looked down at the rug. At that moment she would have
wished for another mother.
Once the maid had arranged her hair - and her mother had
disapproved of how it refused to curl and stay pinned where it should – Cathy
was led to the drawing room where her father was waiting. It was hard to
control her shivering. Then the urge to giggle began to build so she bit her
tongue in the hope the pain would quell it.
"Have you made your decision, Catherine?" he
asked.
"She's going to ask for beauty," her mother
replied.
Cathy just kept looking down. If she looked at him, if she
opened her mouth, she feared what she would give away.
"Remember what we've taught you," he said.
"This is the only time in your life that you'll be given such a powerful
wish. I'm glad you've made a sensible choice."
She clenched her fists as he kissed her forehead, bristling
at the contact but it was over soon enough. He went to the cheval mirror,
pressed the signet ring bearing the family emblem against the glass and
whispered a Charm.
"Don't forget to curtsey," her mother whispered as
the glass began to ripple like the surface of a pond. "And for all our
sakes be respectful. He's the head of the family and this is-"
"I know," she cut her off, unable to bear the
reminders a moment longer.
Cathy could see a different room in the mirror now, one
larger than that she stood in, with elaborately carved wooden panels covering
the walls. The Patroon was behind a desk and she couldn't help but stare at his
ears.
Her father extended a hand to her and when she took it he led
her through the Way opened in the mirror. The Patroon's study smelt of old wood
and cigar smoke.
"May I present my daughter, Catherine
Rhoeas-Papaver," her father said and she curtsied on cue.
The Patroon barely glanced at her. "I recognise you as
the daughter of Charles and Isabella Rhoeas-Papaver of Aquae Sulis."
"Thank you, Sir Papaver," she said, as rehearsed.
"Leave us," he said to her father and he obeyed.
The Patroon seemed bored. Cathy noticed a fountain pen still
in his hand. They'd all made out that this was something so special and
serious. She smiled at the reality of it. This was just one tiny entry in his
diary.
"Now you have come of age, Miss Papaver, it is the tradition
in this family to offer you a wish. As a young lady you'll want to choose
something that will benefit you in your first season, which as we all know is
the most important time of your life. You'll want your family to be proud of
you and able to make an excellent match for the good of us all. Therefore,
think carefully now. What will you wish for? Beauty? Grace? A superlative
singing voice? Whatever is in my power to give will be yours."
Cathy wondered how many times he'd given that speech over
the last few hundred years. He hadn't even pretended to be interested in her as
an individual. She was nothing but a commodity to him. That's all she had ever
been to her parents. And that was why, faced with such an opportunity, she knew
what she had to wish for.
"I have made my decision, Sir Papaver," she said,
the nerves making her voice croak a little. "I suspect it's something
you've never had to grant before."
He frowned. That wasn't in the script. "Is it in my
power to grant?"
"Yes, Sir Papaver. In fact," she took a step forwards,
feeling bolder, "you're the only man in the Nether who could grant this
wish."
"Speak it then."
"I wish…" she hesitated. Her father would be
furious. Her mother too. What would Tom say? Could she really ask for something
so scandalous? Then she thought of that blue sky, the vapour trail. She
couldn't just let them drag her into the Nether without a fight. "Sir
Papaver… I wish to go to university!"
---
Thanks for hosting, Paul!"
Thank you for doing that, Emma. You can breathe a sigh of relief now the project's complete.
I'll be popping along to Forbidden Planet in London on Friday night to join the crowd for Emma's London book launch (the actual launch is at Bristol FP tonight), and then again the next day to see Ben Aaronovitch, Terrance Dicks, Gary Russell and Dan Abnett signing their Doctor Who books. If I don't see you there, I hope you'll come along on Wednesday. Until then, Cheerio!