An Excerpt and a New Project—The Dockmasters of Kerevesh

Today, apart from the usual end of month administration, some reading for another project, and the creation of a new cover, I spent reading over the existing words for an older project. With only one other project currently under way, it is time to up my game. Pending confirmation of any other projects, this novel marks the start of two projects running concurrently, with the occasional third, shorter work, thrown in. It will also be the first to be sacrificed for higher priorities, and then recommenced once those priorities pass. As I went over what I’d written – way back in 2015 – this reunion between Dockmaster Tescha and a very old acquaintance caught my eye:

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They all waited as the queen surveyed them once more, Tescha just as curious about the reactions of those around her, as she was about the queen herself. When the gaze of those golden orbs rested on her, she raised her head, and gave the queen her full attention.

“Will you teach us what the arach master taught to you?”

“Yes. Will you tell me why?”

The queen stilled, for a moment, her antennae swaying slightly, and then she replied.

“You do not recognise me, do you?”

“No, your majesty. I am sorry.”

“I was smaller then, a queen-no-longer-waiting, having flown the main nest to create one of my own. My own queen mourned me as lost, but did not attempt to stop me.”

Tescha stared, and then moved forward so she could see more of the queen’s hide. The sevarthin monarch held up one large fore-claw when one of the laranach and the young sevarthin queen-in-waiting moved to intercept her.

The stripes weren’t as obvious, from the front, but, when Tescha moved to the side, she could see them clearly. Jagged slashes of blue, in a steel-grey carapace dusted with gold. She moved back to her place behind the young queen.

“You stopped me from returning for Faledron’s body.”

The antennae dipped.

“I could not save your mate, just as I could not save those who fought to delay the arachine soldiers.” A soft, wordless keen punctuated these words, and Tescha wondered who of those lost could still make the queen mourn. The antennae abruptly straightened, twitched defiantly. “But I QQcouldQQ save you.”

Tescha stared, the pain of losing Faledron stirring with an intensity it had not held in years.

“I did not want to be saved,” she whispered, and the antennae dipped towards her, brushing lightly over her head and shoulders. If Tescha hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was a gesture of comfort.

“We all make sacrifices for the nest.”

“But I was not part of your nest,” Tescha protested, and the sevarthin nearest recoiled in horror.

The queen merely raised her antennae, and dipped her head in a slow nod.

“This much was true, but we had lost the arachine master, and his journeyman, and you were further along in your studies than we. We had the basics that would enable the nest to survive, but, for it to flourish, we needed more.” Her voice took on a note of entreaty, and one antenna laid a feather-light touch on Tescha’s cheek. “For that to happen, you must take your place in the nest.”

Tescha reached up, and laid a trembling hand on the broadest part of the antenna. From the movement around her, she knew the gesture was unprecedented. She leant her head into the antenna, cupping it between her cheek and her palm, and hoping she wasn’t sending the wrong message. It was as though the room held its breath. From the stillness around her, she guessed the sevarthin and laranach were waiting to see what she would do. Gently, she released the antenna, and dipped her head.

“Very well, your majesty,” she said, pushing aside all thought of what her words might mean. “I will be a part of your nest.”

Immediately, she felt the room around her relax. It was as though her words had turned a valve and released the tension. Tescha found that she was no longer standing isolated in the middle of a wary group of guardians, but that she was in the middle of a press of curious antennae, and hands. Chirped greetings came at her from all sides, as she was touched on the shoulders, head and hands.

“Welcome nestling. Welcome,” they said, surrounding her in a swirl of motion, and then pulling away, to stare expectantly at their queen.

Looking down, Tescha realised she was covered in a dusting of colour, silver, gold, blue and purple and rose.

“The colours of the nest,” the queen said, by way of explanation. “Your sisters greet you.”