Friday, April 25, 2008

Here's spit in your eye


The pre-dawn mist off the bay still clung to the lanes and streets of Vorgensburg as Aejys walked to the dueling grounds at dawn. She had put aside her expensive new clothing, retreating into the comfortable old green pants, brown tunic and an old Kwaklahmyn fringed suede jacket which she had worn so often during her first months in Vorgensburg. She wore a different sword than usual; one she had carried during the war. The Aroanan rune graced the hilt and the blade bore the motto "For My God," on one side and "For Justice" on the other. It was Aroanan steel: one of the finest blades on the continent, ritually forged in the temple smithies. Her boot heels clicked on the cobblestones, seeming loud in the silence. The store windows were still dark, the doors not yet unlocked for morning commerce. She passed very few people.

Tagalong, Josh, Tamlestari, and Cassana followed at a respectful distance. Aejys wanted the silence and solitude. Grief gnawed at her as nothing had since Bucharsa. She blamed herself for Brendorn's death. She felt as if she could or should somehow reach back in time and change her decision, bring all her small family forward as if they had never been separated, though she knew such a thing was impossible. Aejys knew to think these thoughts, to feel them so intensely, was to court madness, but she could not stop them. She had watched such feelings destroy Tomyris Danae de Dovane – the Lionhawk – the great Sharani general whom she had followed into battle during the Great War.

Aejys shook herself loose from that. "Damn you, Brendorn! Why couldn't you have waited?" Even as she said it she knew the answer. "Because you loved me." When I left I betrayed you. Abandoned you. You would have come had I asked. All of you. Aejys drew a deep breath, mastering herself.

As she neared the dueling grounds, her palms began to itch, she could already feel the sword in her hand, her heart raced as anticipation sent that first eager rush of adrenaline through her veins. Her whole being seemed to throb as it had when she couched her lance and set heels to her mount during the war.

Farendarc lounged under a tree. He wore a long sleeved tunic and shirt to cover the bandaged cut in his shield arm. Aejys and Farendarc carried sword and dagger, nothing more. He stepped out to face Aejys directly. "You die first. Then the drunk."

Behind Farendarc and on either side of them people gathered under the trees. Becca and the servants had spread word of the duel. The more witnesses present, the less the likelihood of treachery. Becca had suggested it herself.
Aejys shucked out of the coat, dropping it on the ground. Becca stepped in, picked it up and moved away, handing the jacket to another servant. Aejys and Farendarc drew blades and circled. The crowd gradually moved closer to see better.
Becca's hand slipped into her pockets. She fingered her river stones, fidgeted with her sling and waited. The tavern master hoped that Farendarc would give her a reason to use them.

Aejys was a soldier, not a duelist, and overmatched from the start by Farendarc. It showed in the first meeting of their blades. His was a rare talent, an uncanny gift of eye and hand and body that surpassed and exceeded all but a handful of heroes Aejys had encountered in the entire course of her life. So far as she knew he was the only one of that degree of talent still living. Had his spirit matched his physical gifts he could have been a warrior saint; instead he was an oath breaker, a murderous blackguard as evil as any that climbed out of Bellocar's hells. Farendarc struck with great speed, his sword darted and thrust. She gave ground before him, barely turning his blade from her. Then with a sudden swift twist Farendarc's blade slid past her defenses and opened her shield arm from shoulder to elbow. The black armband fell away with Aejys' blood on it. Farendarc pressed in, slashing her side, then striking high. The point caught her in the upper part of the left breast, an inch below the juncture of chest and shoulder. He jerked it free.

Aejys' eyes widened at the shock of impact. She staggered two steps, reeling like a drunk. The color drained from her face. Her knees gave. She collapsed on her face, struggling to push herself up. Her strength failed. With each breath fire seared through her chest. She lay with her arms crossed beneath her. She could see the blades of grass as if they were a forest rising around her eyes; feel the chill moisture of the morning dew. Through the grass she could see the hilt of her sword glittering in the sunlight. She managed to roll up a bit, freeing her good arm, reaching for the blade. She was a soldier; she had been in many battles; been cut before; she was not going to let it stop her now.

Josh started forward. Tagalong stopped him. "Don't interfere. Ya promised. Besides, he won't outlive her by much. That's my promise. I'm gonna kill that asshole."

He made a small anguished noise and fled, unable to watch Aejys die. That name was in his head again: Abelard. This time he would not go back to the barn. He did not want to be where anyone could find him.

Farendarc sheathed his sword, drawing his dagger. He approached Aejys to make sure of his kill. He tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her up. He put the blade to her throat.

"No!" gasped Tamlestari. At the flexing of her arm, a slender dagger slipped from an arm sheath into her hand.

Cassana caught her arm as she shifted her grip from hilt to blade. "You can't take him out, child! You'll get just one try."

"I can mark him," Tamlestari growled.

"And die."

An angry protest erupted from the crowd. A small shower of rocks from several directions pelted Farendarc. He released Aejys, straightening to find the throwers.
Aejys slumped at the waist, her good hand pushing up against the ground. Near her sword, obscured by the grass lay two smooth flat round-edged stones, red with blue and green veins. Becca's river stones.

"Back off, butcher! She's down, duel's over!" Becca barked. The leather sling whirled three times, then released the stone. It smacked Farendarc's cheek, drawing blood.

"First blood and no more!" shouted someone in the crowd.

Farendarc's expression turned savage. In the past two days he had been marked, cut and bloodied more than all past times combined. Being male of Sharani blood, a rare thing for that race, he had claimed his privileges and sat out the war. He had never been in a real battle. Now some members of Aejys Rowan's household had declared war on him. He gave a snarling shout "You're dead, bitch! You're dead!"

"Doubt it!" Becca spit, backing up as she slipped another stone into her sling. "You'll have to reach me, goat-jacker."

Her stone smacked Farendarc in the chest, staggering him.

Zacham reached into his pockets, brought out more stones, and pelted the duelist. Several ragged street children, friends of his, began to add their stones, chanting, "First blood, no more!"

Farendarc ignored the boy and the rest of his stone throwing friends, intent on Becca.

The certainty that Farendarc would kill Becca, and probably the others as well as Josh sent a dizzy rush of concern through Aejys. The soldier did what she should have done in the beginning. She quit fighting the pain and weakness, accepted it, focused herself away from it, and reached through it. Aejys' fingers curled around the hilt of her sword.

"One thing at a time," Farendarc said, reaching for Aejys again.

Snarling, Aejys rose to her knees, shoving her sword into his stomach before he even realized she had picked it up. Farendarc clutched himself, his fingers digging into his flesh around the blade. His eyes bulged in disbelief and he fell, his weight dragging the sword hilt from Aejys' hand. The children rushed in and began kicking the dying duelist.

Aejys swayed, trying for a moment to gain mastery of her body, then crumpled. She rolled onto her good side, curling into a tight ball of pain; each breath a searing agony. Tagalong's broad strong hands raised her, settling Aejys' head and shoulders on her lap. The stout dwarf stroked her hair, muttering worriedly, "Don't go following Brendorn. He'll still be waiting fer ya five score years from now. Ya hear me. Don't go, Aejys."

"Try not to," Aejys rasped. "Hurts to ... to breathe."

Cassana and Tamlestari knelt beside Aejys, checking her wounds. The arm and side bled heavily. Tamlestari opened Aejys' shirt. Pink-flecked white foam formed around the chest wound, increasing with each struggling breath. Tamlestari gave Cassana a worried glance. Then the youth's fingers stroked the bare flesh around the wound, her eyes going distant.

Tagalong's head came up and she looked sharply at Cassana, "Stone Father! She's a Reader!"

Cassana nodded and motioned for Tagalong to be silent. "And a damned good chirurgeon."

"Sucking chest wound. Internal bleeding," Tamlestari muttered. It did not include a punctured lung, although the pressure of accumulating blood could easily collapse the lungs. She pulled gauze and a jar of salve from her bag. She put a large quantity of the salve on the gauze, then pressed it down hard on the chest wound, sealing it. Aejys' breathing eased. Tamlestari brought Tagalong's hand over to hold the compress in place.

Tamlestari opened Aejys' shirt and bound her side up. Then she bandaged her arm and strapped it down.

"Take a little of this," Cassana said, raising a small flask of holadil to Aejys' lips.

Aejys swallowed the thick syrupy liquid. Warmth flooded her and the pain retreated. Her body relaxed and uncurled. Only the gnawing weakness of blood loss and shock remained. She closed her eyes and slid into sleep.

"How bad?" Tagalong asked Tamlestari.

"Bad enough. We must get her home quickly where I can repair that chest wound."
* * * *
A tiny matchstick of a mon in a black, knee-length sleeveless coat pulled at Thomas Cedarbird, hurrying him toward the dueling grounds. "Please, sir, you must come quickly." Darlbret continued to urge Thomas forward, shoving through the throng at the dueling grounds. People glared at them, then recognized the syndic, and opened a path.

Thomas Cedarbird's left braid hung half-finished and his hair on the right was still loose. "I don't know why you insisted on dragging me down here. You know I don't like watching duels ... oh ... dear gods, Aejys." Thomas rounded on Darlbret. "Why didn't you tell me it was Aejys?"

"I – I wasn't sure..." Darlbret stammered. "It might have been just a rumor... I just heard about it minutes ago..."

Thomas knelt beside Tag, his hand reaching almost of its own volition to touch Aejys' cheek: that was something he would never have done were she conscious. "Is she...?"
"Alive?" Tag said, "Somewhat."

"Why didn't you tell me about this ... I might could have done something..."

"Aejys pays her own debts, merchant," Tag said caustically. "And I pay the ones she can't. Now back off, we've heard enough from ya ta last ten lifetimes. Uh huh! Period. End of Story!"

Thomas winced and sat back on his heels, saying nothing more. He doubted he would ever know or understand why Tagalong Smith disliked him so much. And even if he did, he wasn't sure he could change it. But maybe Darlbret could either discover it or explain it.

Becca formed the servants into a protective circle just as the city guard arrived and took positions around Aejys. Then the tavern master, after spitting in Farendarc's face and scattering the children, methodically searched the slowly dying assassin, even pulling his boots off. Her hands, though roughed by years of work in the kitchens, were still surprisingly nimble. She found a small fold and ran her finger along it to reveal a pocket. Where most would not have found it, just right to have concealed some orders or a contract. In the concealed pocket in the left boot Becca found several papers. She shoved them into her pockets to share later. She placed her foot firmly on Farendarc's chest and yanked Aejys' sword free, wiping it clean on his pants leg.

"Becca, quick! We need a litter," Tamlestari told her.

"I will carry her," said a rough voice as a huge form rose from the deep shadows of a nearby oak cluster. Clemmerick lifted Aejys as tenderly and easily as a mother lifting an infant.

Becca gathered up Farendarc's belongings, handing them to Raim and Omer to carry. Tagalong had to trot to keep up with the ogre. Cassana and Tamlestari strode quickly along beside Clemmerick while the rest followed closely.

Spectators drifting past Farendarc paused to spit on his body, then trailed after Aejys' entourage to see if they could learn anything. Thomas Cedarbird did not want to draw Tagalong's ire, so he did not try to insinuate himself into the main group. But he followed and the crowd formed behind him of the curious and the concerned.
* * * *

Monday, April 07, 2008

American Society of Journalists and Authors on the amazon / booksurge situation

Dear fellow members --

In the last few days, Amazon has confirmed that as of April 1, it is requiring on-demand
authors and independent on-demand publishing houses to have their titles printed through
Amazon's own on-demand facilities, Booksurge -- or they won't be sold on Amazon. The big
red buy-it button will go away.

ASJA is investigating the situation and the possibility of joining any protest actions within
the industry. We will keep you informed. In the meantime, we suggest you read the material
on the links below and consider signing the two petitions, one of which asks the Washington
State Attorney General's office to investigate this action in light of restraint-of-trade
laws. (If you live in Washington state, please take particular note of this.) The other
petition basically tells Amazon "We noticed. We don't like it."

You may circulate this e-mail to non-member friends; in fact, the ASJA Board urges you to do

Salley Shannon, ASJA vice president and Advocacy Committee chairman

[Note: if you are interested in joining an ad-hoc committee on this situation, please write
me at]

Wall Street Journal story:

Writer's Weekly page -- information clearinghouse:

Petition to stop Booksurge requirement:

Petition to the Washington State Attorney General:

PS from the Cuss: Please repost this statement and spread it around

Saturday, April 05, 2008

Amazon / Booksurge controversy said...

Last week Amazon announced that it would be requiring that all books that it sells that are produced through on-demand means be printed by BookSurge, their in-house on-demand printer/publisher. Amazon pitched this as a customer service matter, a means for more speedily delivering print-on-demand books and allowing for the bundling of shipments with other items purchased at the same time from Amazon. It also put a bit of an environmental spin on the move -- claiming less transportation fuel is used (this is unlikely, but that's another story) when all items are shipped directly from Amazon.

We, and many others, think something else is afoot. Ingram Industries' Lightning Source is currently the dominant printer for on-demand titles, and they appear to be quite efficient at their task. They ship on-demand titles shortly after they are ordered through Amazon directly to the customer. It's a nice business for Ingram, since they get a percentage of the sales and a printing fee for every on-demand book they ship. Amazon would be foolish not to covet that business.

What's the rub? Once Amazon owns the supply chain, it has effective control of much of the "long tail" of publishing -- the enormous number of titles that sell in low volumes but which, in aggregate, make a lot of money for the aggregator. Since Amazon has a firm grip on the retailing of these books (it's uneconomic for physical book stores to stock many of these titles), owning the supply chain would allow it to easily increase its profit margins on these books: it need only insist on buying at a deeper discount -- or it can choose to charge more for its printing of the books -- to increase its profits. Most publishers could do little but grumble and comply.

We suspect this maneuver by Amazon is far more about profit margin than it is about customer service or fossil fuels. The potential big losers (other than Ingram) if Amazon does impose greater discounts on the industry, are authors -- since many are paid for on-demand sales based on the publisher's gross revenues -- and publishers.

We're reviewing the antitrust and other legal implications of Amazon's bold move. If you have any information on this matter that you think could be helpful to us, please call us at (212) 563-5904 and ask for the legal services department, or send an e-mail to

Feel free to post or forward this message in its entirety.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Imposter accounts

Impersonator accounts
I am writing this post to bring to light a bad situation and warn people about it.

Any and all email accounts that contain the word “daveranaenterprises” are not mine. Yes, they are the name of my company. Ironically, they were originally set up for me at my request by someone I trusted.

On February 28th of this year, I decided to start my own company Daverana Enterprises. Even though I informed Joel Wideman at the time that I had only started working to get the company going three days before we spoke, he asked if he could make a “small” announcement at DAZ | Studio forums about how we would eventually be looking for cover art. He told me that if i would give him the title of Art Director so that he would have the cred, then he would slush art for me.

What he did was to make a splashy bragging post asking for not just art, but fiction. I didn’t even have guidelines up and I had not finished getting my site hosted. I had no email accounts set up to specifically deal with subs from people. i had only my personal gmail account set up.

I quickly became very worn out. Joel was frantically IM’ing me to answer all the questions that were being posted at DAZ and this consumed most of my time for several days that I should have been doing other things. So one night while I was very tired, i asked him to do me a favor and set up two gmail accounts


I asked him to set them up FOR me. I told him to use the company name. He did so.

When we had our final falling out, Joel went and changed the passwords and security questions before I could. Then he passed them onto a third party. the accounts are still live.

Had he closed them down, I would have had no problems with that. Instead they are still live and claiming victims.

Janrae Frank wrote:

You changed the passwords and security questions for the accounts. I want those accounts back.

What do you mean “back”? I expended the effort to obtain them. That, and the emails sent to them, was my contribution. A contribution you made clear was unappreciated and unwanted.
Regardless, I no longer have the passwords. But if you really want them, ask Tommy Tutone.
Janrae Frank wrote:
I have reported them to google as stolen and if they are not returned to me within ten days, I will speak to an attorney.

Joel Wideman wrote:

Stolen? How do you figure? They were never yours to begin with. As you’ll recall, _I_ created the accounts. According to Google, that makes them _mine_. You have no legal standing here. Even so, I don’t have the passwords. I’ve already told you so. Threatening me is just a way to attack me. I haven’t attacked you, I’ve merely distanced myself from a former friend.
You told me that when things get rough, Jean gets to thinking she’s being attacked, and lashes out at people close to her. PROJECT MUCH?!?

Joel Wideman

see you’re getting a little rattled, so I’ll combine your recent emails and address them together.

1) I’ve removed the images featuring your characters from the sites which I control. Likewise, I expect you to remove my artwork from the sites which you control. I’ll forget about the money you owe me for the one image. For any others, I do not offer refunds on commissions.
2) Google told you that, did they? Funny, they typically are slow to respond to such reports and when they do respond, it is with references to help files. What they actually say in their TOS however, is that one cannot transfer licenses without their written permission. That is to say, Google is as likely to remove the accounts as they are to give you the usual runaround.
Furthermore, I am not in possession of your property, however dubious that ownership may be. I do not use the accounts. I do not have any of my addresses listed as the secondary email. I do not have the passwords themselves.
3) You accuse me of treachery. The truth is, I’m not the one guilty of betrayal. That is what you did to Jean. Again, this is projection. All I’ve done is taken my ball and gone home. You know why? Because you tried to shit in my face and call it ice cream!
4) You speak of war, as if I have attacked you. I do not want war, Janrae. I wish to remember you as a friend who had a falling out with me, not as a bitter enemy.
I’m not going to engage in your type of war, either. I’m not going to make absurd threats of illegal acts. I’m not going to launch an unsophisticated smear campaign via a two-bit internet community. I’m not going to look for you posting about me under every rock on the internet then make some stupid whingy post about how you’re picking on me and it’s oh so unfair. That’s not a war. That’s an internet slap fight.
5) I know you want to hurt me. I don’t really know why, but I know that you do. But you know who else you’re hurting? Lilac. She’s trying to stay out of it, but the more you attack me, the more you’ll be attacking her. And she never hurt anyone.
Who else are you going to turn on? Who else are you going to hurt? Natalie? Stephen? I don’t think you and me can be salvaged. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, there is no you and me. But do consider that you will not do well all alone.
Tags: imposter accounts, joel wideman