Hi. Hope you’re surviving the July heat, wherever you might be. If anyone complains because you’re having a tall, cold one, tell ‘em I said it’s okay.
I keep hearing about this thing on Goodreads called “Listopia,” so I looked it up. It’s a real thing! If you know of a book that you like, you can add it to a list, or even start one of your own. If, for instance, you like a recently-published science fiction novel about a couple brave young ladies name Lisa and Ciji, well, you can recommend it here: https://www.goodreads.com/list and I would be some tickled if you did.
If you’re getting this newsletter, I can probably make a safe assumption that you’re a reader. Goodreads is a good place to see what’s out there for books, both new and old. It’s also a place where you can play an important role in the success of any book that you happen to like. I try to do a review of everything I read, and you can follow me and see my list there.
In the 21st century, it’s important to authors and publishers—especially when they’re one and the same—that readers let it be known what they like. I am humbled and pleased by the fact that I’ve gotten, at last count, seven reviews, and they’re all five-star. That said, a lot of the books I read have hundreds, often thousands, of reviews; usually including mine.
I know when I read a book that I’ve enjoyed, I love to let other people know about it. I’m hoping you’re letting people know about The Princess Key.
The book has been available mostly through Amazon (although I usually have a few in the back of my car). I just listed it on IngramSpark, which is another indie publisher that deals a lot with brick-and-mortar bookstores. That means, if you went into Books-A-Million, or Barnes & Noble, or even your local independent bookstore (yay for independent bookstores!) they should now be able to order it for you. If you already have a copy (yay for you!) please tell your friends.
This Month’s Press Links:
— Book Reader Magazine interview:
https://bookreadermagazine.com/featured-author-rick-clogston/
— Enterprise Zone – Callum Connects mini-podcast
https://enterprisezone.cc/rick-clogston-the-advice-i-give-most-often/
https://enterprisezone.cc/rick-clogston-author-richard-w-clogston-publications/
— Interviews with Writers:
https://interviewswithwriters.com/author-interview-rick-clogston/
Rick’s Recs:
This month, Rick’s recommending a book by a good friend, and another that was recommended to him by a good friend.
Marvin LaFontaine – Black Thursday
What over-the-top stunt did two teenagers perform that turned a small sleepy town upside down?
When they decided to attempt a racing stunt down a mountain road in the middle of the night, these boys had no idea that they were about to initiate Black Thursday, as the police called it. Black Thursday would not end until several people were dead and many more maimed for life.
Can three separate fatal accidents over a period of 12 hours in this northern New Hampshire town of 300 residents be purely a horrible coincidence as the police ruled? As a surviving victim of Black Thursday himself, the author reopens the case and proves that the terrible events … had a sinister connection…
Marv is an old friend of mine, and I knew some of this story. The book he finally wrote about it puts it in a new, and chilling perspective.
Patrick Rothfuss – The Name of the Wind
My editor, Sage Taylor Kingsley recommended this book, with the result that Patrick Rothfuss quickly became one of my favorite authors. He doesn’t have a lot of books out, but they’re definitely worth a read, and this one is where you should start. I’ll let Mr. Rothfuss tell you about it himself:
My name is Kvothe.
I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.
You may have heard of me.
So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature—the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man’s search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend.
Fiddly Bit:
The Fiddly Bits are deep backstory on central characters in The Princess Key. These stories don’t appear in the book, but as a newsletter subscriber, you’re being let into some behind-the-scenes stuff. This installment takes place at the royal residence of the Regent—the King/Emperor/Ruler/Big Boss Dude—of an alien world called Rynaxx.
This month’s Fiddly Bit features Za’cijimaa (everybody calls her Ciji). Before she and Lisa made their daring escape, she was the slave of a brutal Varnian, er, businessman named … Actually, if you’ve read The Princess Key, you know his name. But I ain’t sayin’ it.
Royal Influence
Ciji, age 17 – a year before The Princess Key – Rynaxx
Y’verryn and Gha-m’tek had duty today that was a happy combination of easy and prestigious. They were standing guard at a dinner party hosted by the regent himself. It was one of the small banquet halls, but no less ornate. Brass and gold fixtures encrusted with precious gems. A heavy table and chairs built from exotic woods and intricately carved rested on the gleaming pale yellow marble floor. High windows looked out into a lush, neatly manicured garden. The two Rynaxxians weren’t just soldiers. They were members of the First Alluvian Guard, one of the most elite fighting forces in the known galaxy—the personal guard of the regent of Rynaxx.
The two uniformed guards observed as the remains of the first course—plankton pastries—were removed and replaced with a palette-cleansing iced fish sorbet. And more wine. Regent Phri-tar IV presided from the end of the table in a high-backed chair trimmed in hammered gold, which offset his polished black exoskeleton and deep purple velvet cape. Not a vain man, he was allowing the graying edges of his skeletal plates to show naturally instead of painting them as some did. It gave him a dignified air.
The regent was in a very good mood. His close personal friend, the Varnian, was in attendance. This meant the laughter, and the wine, flowed freely. The Varnian, covered head to toe in course green fur, was the only off-worlder the regent ever entertained that was taller than even the Rynaxxians. When he burst out laughing, it seemed to shake the palace.
Lieutenant Y’verryn leaned into the young sublieutenant. “Only two soft-skins today,” he observed. “The Varnian and his Dholamite woman. Although there’s some speculation on just how soft the Varnian’s skin actually is. Who knows what’s under all that fur, eh?” He smiled at his own joke.
Gha-m’tek glanced at his superior nervously. “Should we be talking on duty, sir?”
Y’verryn shot the younger man a quick smile. “This isn’t a formal affair. What we need to do most of all is remain alert. Observing and discussing the guests is the very definition of alertness, so long as we don’t draw undue attention.”
As if to reassure them, Captain Kelph, their commanding officer, turned their way, smiled, and nodded. Y’verryn tilted his head in response. Kelph shot a quick glance at the Regent, as he did constantly throughout the evening, then returned again to his conversation with the woman seated beside him.
“The first time I ever stood guard at one of the regent’s gatherings,” Y’verryn said, “it was with Kelph. He was my personal mentor, as I am yours.”
Gha-m’tek’s eyebrows rose. “So that would have been before he was the Alluvian Guard captain? I didn’t realize you’d served that long.”
Y’verryn chuckled. “Now you’re making me feel old. No, he was already captain of the Guard. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Kelph doesn’t ask anyone to do something he’s not willing to do himself. Although it wasn’t very long after he’d taken over the position from Doc’a’cel.”
Gha-m’tek nodded. “Who was killed in the uprising.”
The older soldier grinned. “Biggest mistake the rebels could have made. Don’t get me wrong, Doc’a’cel was a good man, but he was a glorified politician. It was his connections that got him into the guard, and finally to its command. Kelph, in contrast, was born to the job. Between him and the Varnian, the rebels didn’t stand a chance.”
Gha-m’tek’s eyes narrowed. “The schoolbooks credit only the Varnian.”
“That’s the regent’s doing,” Y’verryn replied. “Kelph doesn’t care about glory. He lives to serve Rynaxx and the royal family. I would follow that man down into the Abyss of K’haa, and trust him to get us home.”
Gha-m’tek shuddered at the mention of the repository of the dishonored dead.
Y’verryn glanced at his student. “You must have impressed him to be here today.”
Gha-m’tek frowned. “I like to think I got the assignment on merit.”
“Indeed you did, but do you have any idea how many soldiers the Regency employs? You were only in the field a year before you were assigned to the Alluvian Guard, and here you are guarding the regent. You don’t advance that quickly without the personal intervention of Kelph himself.” He glanced at Gha-m’tek and could see the exposed skin between the plates of his exoskeleton pale.
“Now, don’t go getting yourself full of pride,” Y’verryn continued, cautioning him. “To have caught Kelph’s eye is an awesome responsibility. You are protecting the absolute ruler of the Rynaxx system, along with about twenty of his family members, advisors, and friends. It’s a casual dinner, but should the worst happen, you will be expected to lay down your life in their defense.”
Gha-m’tek nodded grimly. “I would do so, gladly.”
Y’verryn grinned. “Kelph knows that. Which is why you’re here. So …” He cast a pincer around the room. “Who would you say is the most important person here?”
Gha-m’tek shrugged one shoulder. “The regent, of course.”
Y’verryn rolled his eyes. “Of course, but who next?”
“Oh, uh … The heir, Zho-Tar, I suppose? Or Viscount Gra’lyr maybe? Our regent trusts Gra’lyr to chaperon the heir with that soft-skin woman. Or maybe the Varnian, seeing that the regent credits him with saving the regency.”
“All good guesses,” the older man said, “but incorrect.”
Just then, the regent rose to his feet. “Oh, come, my dear,” he intoned, extending a hand and addressing the young blue soft-skin seated beside the Varnian. “Why should my son and Gra’lyr be the sole beneficiaries of your talent? Please, Lady Za’cijimaa! Won’t you favor us with a song?”
The tiny, soft-skinned woman blushed, her green blood turning her blue face turquoise, and glanced at the Varnian. He nodded. She rose confidently, opened her mouth … and the most beautiful voice poured from it. She sang an old Rynaxxian folk song, but in a way that the two guards had never heard. The melody soared and swooped, expressing the emotion of the words as if she were singing her native tongue. One hand raised, head tilted back.… It was breathtaking. Y’verryn saw his young companion visibly shudder.
When the song finished, there was a pause, a moment of respectful silence, and then applause rippled around the banquet table and hooves stomped on the marble floor. The young humanoid woman gave a nod and humble smile and bowed her head. Instead of allowing her to reclaim her chair, the Varnian gestured to her to sit on his lap, which she did, looking very small and fragile atop his muscular mountain of green fur.
“By the gods,” Gha-m’tek breathed.
“You remember my asking who was the most important person in the room?” Y’verryn asked and cocked a thumb at the Lady Za’cijimaa. “Well, there she is.”
Gha-m’tek’s eyes narrowed. “The Varnian’s wife?”
“Yes and no. She is, I believe, the third or fourth ‘wife’ he’s brought with him since I’ve served on the guard. Always a Dholamite, which is why they’re blue. He’ll bring one a few times, and the next time, he’ll bring a different one. I can only guess as to why they change, or what happens to them, but you never see the old one again. This one’s lasted a surprisingly long time. She’s not his wife, by the way. She’s his slave.”
The younger man’s jaw dropped. “The Varnian brought a slave to sup at the royal table?”
“The Varnian may do as he damn well pleases, with the regent’s consent.”
Gha-m’tek frowned. “I don’t understand how the soft-skins can even stand erect, much less move about as they do. And how could she, how could they—?”
“I asked the court physician about that once,” Y’verryn replied. “It seems their skeletal structure is internal. Instead of a shell, their bones come in the form of large and small rods inside their limbs, and even throughout their torsos. A complex network held together by their muscles and ligaments.” He smiled at Gha-m’tek. “The handiwork of the gods is truly varied and wondrous.”
“I should say so. Tell me, what is the purpose of the red …” Gha-m’tek ran his hand over the armored dome of his head. “The, er, red—”
“’Hair,’” Y’verryn said. “They call it ‘hair.’ I’m afraid I don’t know its purpose.” He shrugged. “Ornamentation? Warmth? It grows directly out of their skin.”
Gha-m’tek nodded. “Intriguing. I wonder what it feels like. But how is she the most important person in the room?”
“You already know that she spends private time with the heir as well. She’s his lover.”
Gha-m’tek grimaced. “Surely not! Aren’t they chaperoned by Viscount Gra’lyr?”
Y’verryn nodded. “She seduces him, too. Rumor has it, sometimes at the same time.”
Another shudder, with a look of disgust. “I find that hard to believe. I mean, Gra’lyr is the regent’s own cousin. They grew up together.”
Y’verryn chuckled. “I’ve stood guard outside the heir’s apartments. You wouldn’t believe the sounds I heard from the other side of that door.”
“But she’s so … alien!”
“The only other Dholamites I’ve ever heard of serve as pleasure girls at marketplaces operated by the Qaalamite Consortium. Probably where the Varnian bought her. See all the people around the regent’s table? How many do you count?”
Gha-m’tek nodded. “Twenty-three.”
“She’s slept with at least half of them. Although, not the regent himself, nor Kelph.”
The younger man regarded the older with narrowed eyes. “You’re having me on, aren’t you? Just trying to make a fool of me.”
Y’verryn shook his head. “I swear, I am not. It’s what makes her so important. The Lady Za’cijimaa is desired by many of the most powerful members of our world, actually the entire region. Can you imagine what sorts of state secrets she may have heard? The pillow talk … “
Gha-m’tek thought about this for a moment. “Does the Varnian know?”
“I believe he encourages it. Our captain believes that she does this on the Varnian’s direct orders to gain influence at court. Kelph despises them both, the Varnian and his woman, but dares not let it show.”
Gha-m’tek shook his head. “By the holy gods.”
“That’s not even the worst of it. I had occasion to speak about her with one of the ladies-in-waiting, the Lady Mah’vesti. They, of course, help the regent’s guests dress for dinner and other such events. The one I spoke with has become something of a specialist in working with the soft-skins. Mah’vesti told me that instead of being blemish-free like most soft-skins, the Lady Za’cijimaa’s back is horribly scarred. She believes the woman’s own master beats, cuts, and burns her.”
They looked at the big Varnian, who wore only a garment resembling a dress or toga. The small, blue woman was seated on his lap, leaned back against him, a glazed look in her eyes as his large hands shamelessly roamed her body. A few of the guests at table were clearly uncomfortable with the display, avoiding looking there, but most were apparently used to it. The Varnian was conversing and joking with the regent and other guests as if nothing unusual were going on.
“I would be hesitant to express any disrespect toward a friend of the regent,” Gha-m’tek said softly. “But I could believe this of him.”
“Even Kelph was horrified by some of the things the Varnian did, the level of cruelty he displayed during the quelling of the rebellion,” Y’verryn said. “It would explain why he’s had so many … wives.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “To him, she’s probably as valuable as the intelligence she collects. Beyond that, I’m sure he views her as … disposable. On the other hand, the people who enjoy her company in private see her as exotic and desirable.”
Gha-m’tek nodded. “So if there’s trouble, she should be the first protected after the regent.”
“Politically, yes. But personally, I think she should be the last protected,” Y’verryn responded. “Allowing her to die … might just be an act of kindness.”