I’ve been through all my prior Pimchan stories now and I’m ready to log all the details of the characters and setting–a sort of story bible–and then I’ll be ready to go on the new story. Meanwhile, here’s a bit from the last Pimchan story I wrote, “Hostages of Honeycomb.”
The Widow Zudora of the town of Honeycomb has been getting above herself, challenging the total control of the All-Father and abusing the power she’s amassing. Since Pimchan’s chief of town guards is from Honeycomb and has been called back there to honor the betrothal made for him by his family, she and her entourage go along.
excerpt from “Hostages of Honeycomb”
by Marian Allen
The wedding was the first Pimchan had attended since her girlhood. What a travesty! A strong, independent woman and a man who obviously doesn’t belong to her, pledging eternal devotion with empty hearts. Faugh!
After the ceremony, they stood before the temple, with children and beggars blessing them and scrambling for the wedding silver Somboon scattered to either side. It was like him, Pimchan thought, to have provided himself with pockets full of the small coins as a treat for others, for a wedding he never wanted.
A one-eyed hulk with scars on both cheeks, yet dressed in silk and linen, motioned from the edge of the happy crowd.
“Kasem,” said Lek.
“See what he wants.”
Kasem spoke with many an evil grin, his tongue visible behind gaps where teeth had once been. When he left, Lek returned and said, “The Widow Zudora sends the Warrior Pimchan her compliments and the newlyweds her best wishes, and begs to be allowed to salute us all at moonrise tonight. She’ll send a carriage for us and a sedan chair for the bride.”
“What did you tell him?” asked Pimchan.
“I told him we’d be delighted.”
“And suppose I had wanted to refuse?”
Lek flapped a dismissive hand. “It’s easy to decline an invitation after you’ve accepted. Not so easy to accept after you’ve declined. Besides, why would you refuse? Be on the lookout for anything to take offense from. One thing can lead to another, and you’ll find cause to ruin her.”
“It’s a trap,” said Isra.
Lek chuckled darkly. “It is, indeed.”
A WRITING PROMPT FROM ME TO YOU: Write about a wedding.