So I’ve got this “write things” tag but I have yet to say anything, here, about the big things I write. I’ve been working in my continuity for most of my life now (wow, self, way to make us feel old), but took most of it down from its old home when a book-theft scandal made it clear that some person or AI was eventually going to scrape my work and try to sell it. You can search Wayback if you want, but a good lot of what you’ll find is…not great. Knowing this, I finished a reworking of book 1 in 2021 and book 2 in 2022, and I am currently stuck trying to pound out the plot of book 3. I won’t be publishing any of these until book 3 is finished, just in case I have to change things. And whoo boy do I have a scene I have to change.
It appears in part 1 of book 2 and was written in 2021. I have beta-reader witnesses to its having existed in the world before the publication and retraction of a certain lewd political “news” item, but since you’re (probably) not those witnesses, here’s a screenshot of the Docs history (yes I use Docs, no it doesn’t strike me as hypocritical considering my statement above, because Google is big enough they don’t need to scrape user data for pocket change) to back me up:
In case you can’t read the text of the picture at all, our POV in this scene comes from a character named Vance. It’s his first name, and he’s had it since about 2000, well before its latest turn as a household name. He is in fact a dude in his thirties, but if you met him, you’d likely assume from his general appearance that he was a native Spanish speaker; and as you can probably tell if you can read the text in the pic above (if you can’t read it, hang on a sec, I’ve put the spoiler-redacted text of the whole scene below), he tends to creep people out less than JD, mostly because he’s a generally decent human being. What the scene won’t tell you is that he’s also a wheelchair user, and a rather out-of-the-ordinary one: he has what SFF calls a disability superpower-–telekinesis, of moderate strength, able to affect anything he can see or otherwise get a good sense of shape and location for—but it’s taxing to use for moving his own body, so he uses a chair instead. When you see verbs in italics, it indicates that he’s moving things with his mind. There are, as you’d expect, a lot more details surrounding this, but you don’t need to know them for this scene.
You should probably know a bit about the other characters, though. Tama, the main character of the previous book, also has a disability superpower, in her case the ability to “see” by sensing the shapes of her surroundings. As if that weren’t enough, she is also a rather strong empath and telepath, which abilities she uses (or doesn’t use, as the case may be) in her job as a counselor for the personnel in the building where this scene takes place. Ranell, who comes in later, is also a telepath, but is only really good at projecting rather than reading thoughts. She lives in the same other location as Vance and is studying the lost art of magic with a few other people, which is why she’s in this neighborhood at this time of the week.
So, let’s have a look at that text I promised you:
“Selavenith?”
Vance looked up from the book in his lap, grinning at Tama’s disbelief. “One of the greats.”
“If you say so.” She took a seat in the middle of the nearest library sofa, sinking into the cushions with a sigh.
“I do,” he said, watching her visibly relax. Whatever drop-in she’d just finished must have been taxing. “Beautiful descriptions, perfect meter, translated their own work. Fourteen volumes of it. What’s not great about that?”
“That there’s fourteen volumes of it,” said Tama. “And that it’s so perfect. It’s like…” She frowned, gesturing in frustration. “They never figured out how to break the rules in a way that makes things better, so they never tried.”
He’d known she read, but not that she was well-read. He’d have to find out if she’d got through all fourteen volumes or given up somewhere between eight and ten like he’d done last time he tried. Maybe she was on to something with her assessment. “I’m guessing you like…Evanek?”
She smiled. “Good guess. Do you?”
“Some of it.” Vance didn’t want to say that the works he liked were the ones school didn’t make you read. She wouldn’t know what he was talking about.“The later, the better.”
“Absolutely,” said Tama. “Except ‘The Darkness.’”
“Absolutely.” He’d found some comfort in it, his first years at the Stronghold, knowing that the world had been lost before and could be built again. Now, it only reminded him of how he’d felt reading it then: a stranger among continents of friends, all living in their own worlds of loss. “Are you more for the poetry or the histories?”
She shrugged. “Depends on the day. Which is probably why I don’t go in for Selavenith. You don’t get to choose.”
Vance laughed. “Maybe.” It occurred to him that she probably hadn’t come in to talk about books, and he closed the one in his lap, setting it on the nook’s central table. “Did you need to ask me something?”
“No, just find you,” she said. “Fayra said you told her you’d be up here but I thought I’d check.”
“You could do that from the hall.” He was fairly certain she could have done that from her office, if she put in enough effort.
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to flop on this couch.” Tama grinned. “Or find out you like Selavenith.”
“It’s that good a couch then?” Though if she was actually on an errand from reception… “Ranell’s finally got here?”
“Yeah. She’s in the cafeteria, Fayra said. If you want to go meet her.”
“Better stay where she thinks I am,” Vance decided. It would be just his luck to cross paths in the lifts. “And who am I to part you from your couch?”
Tama laughed, tipping her head back against a bolster. He found himself happier just for watching; he’d seen her happy before, but never this…carefree. “You may have to. Or I’ll just sleep here tonight.”
“I wouldn’t want to,” he said. “Move you, that is.”
“You could though, yeah?” She turned her face toward him, clearly curious.
“I could.” It would be easier than moving himself, but he didn’t want the risks. “I could also drop you.”
“I don’t think you would.” Tama leaned forward, propping her chin conspiratorially on her fists. “Maybe you could steal the couch for me.”
“That is a library couch,” someone called indignantly from the next nook.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let her take it,” Vance called back.
“You have to go home sometime,” she reminded him, ominously.
“I could stay,” he said, shrugging. “You built a room for me, remember?”
He’d expected another comeback. What he saw instead was a flash of…hope? He might even have called it longing, but that seemed absurd. “I don’t want to take you away from your friends,” she said, suddenly quiet, slowly folding her arms across her knees.
This wasn’t about stealing a sofa anymore. Vance didn’t have her kind of empathy, but he could still feel her heartache. Who was in charge of her morale? he wondered. “They’ll still be there. They’re not going to pack up and leave.”
“I know, but…” Tama sighed, eyes half closing. “You have a place. Where people love you, where you belong. I don’t get to keep you from that.”
He wouldn’t have called it love, but he wasn’t going to tell her she couldn’t. “Having people who love you doesn’t mean you’re never lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” she said, but the way she frowned down at the carpet seemed to tell her as much as it told him. “I have friends.”
“How many of them would you ask to steal a couch for you?” Vance asked, because he couldn’t ask How many of them do you have left.
“Lesana,” she said instantly. “Maybe Ulith, except he’d actually do it.” A few moments passed, and she sighed again. “I guess…I don’t know, I don’t feel like I should have friends. Not if I’m responsible for them.”
He’d heard something similar from Ponlan, in a session years ago. Ponlan lived in Oralaen proper now, coming in twice a week to take appointments, spending the rest of his time at other offices, living in a neighborhood he didn’t counsel. That wasn’t a solution for Tama. “You have other counselors on staff. If you’re uncomfortable, you can assign somebody else.”
“I do,” she said. “But…I’m in charge. I have to be available.”
“The League wouldn’t want you to be lonely just so you can be above reproach,” he said. She didn’t seem to have thought of that, judging from her expression. “They won’t dismiss you for making friends.”
“Or they would have by now,” Tama realized. “They wouldn’t even have assigned me. Because Lesana was asking.”
“Exactly.” Vance smiled. “There’s no such thing as not getting to have friends.” He could imagine her telling people that before, not catching to how it might apply to her until now.
“Then I should find out if I already have more than three.”
“You only said two.”
She grinned. “I already asked you to steal the couch, remember?”
“That couch?” said Ranell, pointing at it as she approached, taking in their mirth and smiling back. “If he’s stealing it, he’s stealing it for me.”
“It’s a library couch!”
Ranell sat down in the far corner of it and made a rude gesture vaguely toward the next nook. From the look on Tama’s face, it was being returned behind the shelves. “Sorry I’m late. Looks like you’re having a good time though.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, along with Tama’s yeah. “What ran over?”
“Filtering sand.” Ranell made a face. “We used it all up getting punch and Mora knows what else out of a flowerbed and M…she made me clean it all up again.”
Well, that had been close. Over the time she’d been working with Myrithe, she’d come closer and closer to letting slip a name that the public would have questions about. Vance had had questions too when she’d slipped in front of him, mainly about why she’d tried a working like that in the first place. And could she please just let him pick up the shards from the dishes, and wait to handle the sweeping afterward. But…this was Ranell. “How responsible.”
“She could’ve done it faster.”
“Sanctification is that complicated?” asked Tama.
“Purification, and no, not really. You could learn it. Later of course.” There was little enough information on magic as things were; finding anything conclusive about Tama using it safely was too much to ask for. “It’s just a pain when you have to be really precise. Chemistry’s so much easier.”
If the things she said while adjusting the fuel ratios were anything to go by, it was nothing of the sort. “Well, at least now you’re ready for next week,” he said
“Or for Lesana going for a make-up tomorrow,” said Ranell.
Tama sat up, frowning, seeming worried for some reason. “She’s going tomorrow?”
“Maybe. If she has time. Did you have plans?”
“Not really, just…” She shrugged, eyes drifting out of their false focus. “I didn’t think she’d want to go.”
“Well, she didn’t crunch her tooth off, so it’s up to her.” Ranell chuckled. “If I had to do the sand, something’s going on tomorrow anyway.”
“You planning to join?” asked Vance.
“I could. Actually I should,” Ranell amended, tapping a finger to her lips. “She does better when I’m there. Attunement and all.”
Tama nodded understanding; at least one of them could claim that. She looked sad, though; they must have been planning something for the next day. Or maybe she was just not looking forward to a day with one less friend. Well, he could do something about that. “Mind if I catch a ride then?”
“You want to come watch us filter crud out of sand?” Ranell asked, amused.
“No,” said Vance. “I want more time to find out what’s so amazing about this couch.”
Tama’s laughter told him it was the right thing to say.
…Yep.
Of all the things I could have had to change, this was not what I would have expected. Honestly I don’t know whether I should be glad I decided to hold off for continuity’s sake, because I don’t know what I can do here that’ll serve the same purpose. I’ll have to come up with something eventually, because the couch thing isn’t going away and I still need this interaction. Maybe if I ever find a sensitivity reader for disability who’ll tackle a 100k+ SFF novel or two, they’ll have some ideas. (If you know such a person, I’d love to talk with them. Or send them a copy. Or record them a homebrew audio version.) For now, though, I guess I just comment in a warning. And hope this is the only piece of my work that life decides to imitate.