24 ii) At the mention of selling, the glowing sphere jerks alert

At the mention of selling, the glowing sphere jerks alert, and floats quickly behind Cang’s back, away from Shyan.

“The light thinks you’re gonna sell it,” Fassn says, chuckling.

“Do you suppose we could?” Cang asks. He turns left and right to get a look at the thing, but it bobs and weaves effortlessly, keeping glimpses brief. “How much would you fetch, you cretin?” he asks.

“If it’s half as much as that necklace, we’re doing it,” Shyan says.

“But what fence would take it?” Fassn asks. “In fact, who’d take the necklace? Sure looks like it came from the neck of royalty.”

Abia stands. “We should leave. They come.”

21 i) “These foul grey creatures have ruined our livelihood,”

“These foul grey creatures have ruined our livelihood,” Cang says. Shyan is up, now, carving a chunk of wood into the likeness of a humanoid. The gang sits by a low fire, reflecting and planning.

“All for some revenge,” Fassn says. He shakes his head sadly. “Not what Old Ajralan would want.”

“It’s my fault,” Shyan says flatly. “They were after me.”

“But they did not get you,” Cang says, the hint of a wry smile playing on his lips. “You fought like a maelstrom and won. Now I believe the time has come to earn our leisure,” he adds.

He thinks back to the handful of gems Old Mossy showed them. He imagines slipping them one by one into his many pockets, and his grin grows wide.

Writing Exercise: 2 perspectives on the theft of a fake gold ring


Writing exercise: 2 perspectives; 1 a thief stealing a fake gold ring and 2 the clerk observing

Novakovich ch5 ex1

Logan Bright



This one’s real shiny and I like its look right by it, first time, glint glint goes gold I slip my fingers they go squee squee for fun a glimpse behind the glass, trapped, I press my squee squees against the glass and it’s so cold, cold, not right for one so beauty as you, you sun ring gold. The seller talking coin with some gosso he ain’t gonna miss this sweet this shiny sun ring. You’ll look sweet so on my pinkie pinkie toe I say and she blushes deep deep gold, I lick lips taste of metals of gold, hard gold, praise for gods who wrought such shiny stuff I have it have to have it. Glass goes crack crack smash with hammer squee squees and gold is free, seller shrieks and shrieking. Fingers cold when flesh meets metal, seller shrieking idjit tongue, rat tongue tongue. Save sun ring from glass cages run now with warmth in hand, warmth in hand. Fingers squee squee. Streets full-fumey, push past and gone from glass cages, to glint-gold sun ring fire.



“I assure you every piece of fine jewelry stocked here is truly of the utmost quality, sir. Your spouse or life partner would surely be most fortunate to bear such regality.”

“Ah, well, hm, she does like these shinies.” The mark was drooling – the sale was practically clinched.

The door crashed in with a wail of shattering crystal. An oaf blundered in, wet coveralls and glossy rubber boots. A docksider, or worse, I thought. He squinted at the brilliance of my pieces. My mark was fingering a cheap knock-off Jägan brooch.

“A gorgeous specimen, sir, most rare,” I said, with an eye on the oaf, now pressing greasy fingers against fresh-cleaned glass. He squatted, murmuring to himself, and put his face against the glass, clouding it.

“Can I help you, sir?”



My mark took an uneasy step away.

Suddenly, the docksider threw his fists into the glass, twice, a third time before it shattered, throwing shards and jewels.

I’ll admit, I screamed, so alarming was this scene in my little shop.

“They’re fake, you sewer rat! Fakes!”

He didn’t get it, or didn’t care. The oaf plucked a single gold ring from its ruined display case, and tore through the door into the throngs outside.

My mark gently set down the Jägan he’d been inspecting and walked out, stepping around the shattered case.