Its Write Now Interview: Elliott Baker

The year is 1671. René Gilbert’s destiny glints from the blade of a slashing rapier. The only way he can protect those he loves is to regain the power and knowledge of an ancient lifetime. From Bordeaux to Spain to Morocco, René is tested and with each turn of fate he gathers enemies and allies, slowly reclaiming the knowledge and power earned centuries ago. For three thousand years a secret sect has waited in Morocco.

What will happen in Morocco? To uncover the truths and secrets awaiting in Morocco, Elliot Baker has kindly returned to ItsWriteNow.com for the third time to chat about ‘The Sun God’s Heir: Return’. I’ve mentioned it a few times before, but I’ll say it again, I love seeing authors progress with their writing careers, so I’m so glad that you’ve taken a few minutes out of your busy schedule to chat me. What’s been going on since we last caught up in September 2017 with The Sun God’s Heir?

The Sun God’s Heir has won a couple of contests which is a hoot. Book one has remained in Amazon’s top 10 Free books in its primary category of Sea Adventures and in the top 20 in Historical and Fantasy since it’s launch in January of 2016. It has enjoyed over 27,000 downloads.

That’s fantastic news! What a great testament to the quality of your work! With fantastic feedback from both contests and the reading public, I’m sure you’ve had great motivation to keep yourself working hard. What’s been keeping you working hard since September?

Exploring the strange and challenging world of book marketing. Does a tree make a sound when it falls in the woods if no one is there to hear it? I’d like to thank the readers of The Sun God’s Heir for listening. I am also beginning to write the next book continuing with these characters only in other lives and time periods.

I’m very eager to hear about your new book, and I’m sure the readers are too, but first let’s chat about that strange world that is book marketing. What have you been doing with marketing? Have you been playing around with social media or your own site to kick things off?

I am slowly learning the ropes. I’ve been a member of Instagram since my start, but will soon begin to inhabit the page. A picture is definitely worth a thousand words. I had a graphic artist render René and Akeefa and the drawing of Akeefa is very close to the picture in my head. Who knows. She may show up. Hard to decide whether to leave people’s images of my characters alone or share mine. If you want to see what she looks like in my head, or think I should put the image up on Instagram, use the contact form on my website and let me know on https://www.elliottbaker.com/

That is a tricky one. Pictures of the characters are great and can look fantastic, but some readers do get disappointed when the pictures don’t match what’s in their head, but personally, I think it would be a great idea to show a little taste of how you see life in ‘The Sun God’s Heir’. Are these characters who you have in your mind when you write?

I keep my mind as open to my characters as I can. I don’t think my characters are alive, but their patterns, which I’ve thought about a lot, are. If I’m open to it, the pattern makes a raspberry sound in my mind when I consider having the character do something contrary to their pattern. There is always the overarching ‘why.’

As a reader, you always hope there is an overarching why!   Looking back on it, what do you think was the greatest why or what you want readers to take from your characters in ‘The Sun God’s Heir’?

The accumulation of power will not bring you joy. It will not even bring you security and the escape from that which you fear. Fear and its manifestation, anger does not lead to joy which is the only reason to play this game. Good thing we get to choose.

Indeed we do. Was the exploration of these ideas of power, security, fear and joy what you had in your mind when you first started writing or did you have another target that you were working towards?

There are three books in the Sun God’s Heir trilogy. I had a general idea of how I wanted to finish, but the actual story of the main characters did not present itself until near the end of the writing. I had a couple of what if it doesn’t moments, but for the most part, (I don’t know why) I was confident that it would show up. I’m very pleased with the ending. After you’ve read over eleven hundred pages, the ending better be satisfying.

I completely agree. There’s nothing worse as a reader or writer than to be emotionally invested in a story, and finally get to the ending and find that it is rubbish. What steps did you take to make sure that the ending was satisfying for both readers and yourself as the writer? Did you bring in elements from your life to make the overall story solid?

Writing is a funny thing. We all enter the zone. Olympic athletes train to do it. So do yogis. Most of the time it’s unconscious and fleeting and we’re not even aware we passed through the state. A writer or musician or artist experiences the zone after a time of concentration. Stuff comes out that seems to be better or beyond what the writer or musician feels capable of. I think that we touch our subconscious and download patterns that we’ve unconsciously put together. The output seems brighter and though we take credit for it, we are always a little dubious of our ability to have created it. There are characters in The Sun God’s Heir from whom I learn as they speak. One of my greatest motivations to write is to get them to speak so I can listen. Sounds pretentious, but I’m glad for the help.

Sometimes I feel that getting to the zone of great work can seem like entering a mystical and magical realm. What do you do when you sit down to write to help yourself get into the zone faster?

Writing is a habit. We form and try to form habits all the time. Sometimes we hold on to one for a time, and then something comes up and we’re back to the chaos of our regular day. In order to write, you need to get your butt into the chair and keep it there long enough for something to accumulate. You can’t know if it’ll be worth the time or not. You just have to cast off and trust. For me, getting into the chair on a regular basis is the hardest part. “Oh, look, a bird.”

*Laughs* Those distracting birds! I hope that when you get to the editing stage your work is pulling you back to it and away from the birds. Or do you just turn your work over to an editor so you can sit back and enjoy the bird songs?

I have a kick-ass editor without whom all I’d have is a collection of words. It’s a back and forth process which in the end is very satisfying.

I’m glad to hear that you found satisfaction reaching the end, but I wonder if you had the same satisfaction at the beginning. What was the original idea behind your book that you wanted to continue to explore until you were fully satisfied?

The Sun God’s Heir began with a remembered dream. Like most folks, I don’t remember dreaming that often, but this one morning, I carried the dream into waking consciousness. It wasn’t the whole story, but there was the protagonist and antagonist as well as the germ of the story and the setting. The story stayed with me and refused to go away until years later, with the help of NANOWRIMO, I began to write it down.

Other than trying to conquer the challenge of NANOWRIMO, why do you write?

The easiest answer and the most trite is because I can. A great joy for me in reading a story is when I am transported somewhere else for a few minutes. When I come back to this reality, to my chair, I feel nothing so much as gratitude to the writer for having helped me take a break from the stress of this life. Often I feel recharged with the emotional energy from the scene or story. I wanted to do that. There is nothing so sweet as when someone tells me in so many words that they went somewhere for a few minutes.

I love that you’ve really dedicated yourself to transporting someone else to a different place through your words. Was giving the gift of transporting someone to another work the greatest reward of writing for you?

There’s energy in finishing anything, especially something that takes a while. Since my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Walker, read Walter Farley’s The Black Stallion to us in sixth grade, I’ve loved story. To be able to craft one is very gratifying.

Do you feel that your author voice or writing, in general, has progressed as you’ve continued to practice your craft?

We all have a voice in our heads. And we all have stories to tell. The trick is to stay seated long enough to access our authentic voice. Takes time and patience. Unfortunately it also often takes a support system to give the writer the energy that can’t be found in the moment. Just like listening to yourself in a tape recorder, you are often less than excited by the sound of your own voice. Stay with it.

Less than excited is probably not the description I would use when listening to myself on a tape recorder, I think that mortified might be closer. For others who feel closer to mortification, do you have any tips for authors who are struggling to stay with it?

Show up. Edit and polish until the work makes you smile. It’s not hard to get your work out there, and everyone is always in a hurry to do so. Force yourself to spend more time thinking, editing and deciding what you want. The actual publishing can be done in an hour.

Very true. The publishing process is fairly straight-forward if you set up your work well in the first place, which means that you can spend more time on the stuff that matters. The content! And speaking about the content and deciding what you want, earlier we touched on what you want for your current writing project. What are you working on at the moment?

Beginning the research for the next series of novels.

It sounds like early days then. As a writer at the beginning stage of a new project, I’m sure you’re asking yourself a lot of questions. I’m going to ask you a few questions now that you may not have asked yourself when you’ve been busy beavering away, but you never know your book might be better from answering a question like, if you’re in a vehicle going the speed of light, what happens when you turn on the headlights?

You run into less stuff.

Always advantageous when driving. Continuing onto the advantages, why isn’t there mouse-flavoured cat food?

Who would know what it tastes like?

I think the people who know what cat food tastes like have either lost a bet or a planning to win a dare. Either way, I don’t think that either situation is one that you want to be in. Now let’s go to a situation that Batman himself may not want to be in, what happens if Batman gets bitten by a vampire?

He puts a band-aid on it.

Go Batman! If you could invent a monster who is cooler than Batman or a vampire, what would it look like and what would you call it?

Doubt.

Yep, that’s definitely scarier than Batman or a vampire! What is your favourite word?

Virtually

Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavour, and dishwashing liquid made with real lemons?

Because the paradoxes of life are what make it fun.

You gotta love those paradoxes. Looking back on the Sun God’s Heir, what was your biggest learning experience?

It ain’t over till it’s over.

And I’m sorry to say that today’s interview is just about over. Is there anything that you think we missed chatting about?

This has been the most in-depth interview I’ve taken. But you didn’t ask where do I find the spark to actually sit down and write a story I’ve had in my head for years? Don’t worry about the doing. Keep the thought, the desire in your mind. Keep visiting it, imagine what it would be like. It’s like knocking on a door. Sooner or later, the folks behind the door will get tired of your knocking and the door will open.

Elliott, I’m so glad that the door has already opened for your writing career, but I hope that you are able to open it wider and have so much more fun and success with it!

—

Excited to read the book we discussed today? Find it here on Amazon: ‘The Sun God’s Heir: Return (Book One) ( ASIN: B01MS3RCE0 )‘.

Want to find out more about Elliott Baker? Connect here!

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Back and Better than Ever!

         In 2007 I began to write a story that had been in my head for years. A friend turned me on to NANOWRIMO a magical concept and creativity catalyst that I’ll write about in a later blog. In 2008, I attended my first New York conference armed with my one hundred and forty thousand word completed novel, (Insert laugh track here.) confident that the world would soon be at my feet and throwing money at me.
In 2013 (Yep, five years.) after numerous (Def. Too many to count) edits, and submissions to agents, someone suggested I submit to those publishers that accepted direct submissions. Many do not. So, I sent The Sun God’s Heir to four publishers and received back two contracts, both from smaller, but reputable publishers. I accepted with joy the one from Musa Publishing.
Now, people will line up and throw money at me. Nope, not yet. It took eight months of waiting, and then a couple months of edits before my masterpiece was ready to release. Now? Nope. SGH was released in late July, 2014 and Musa went out of business seven months later. First let me again thank the folks at Musa. They acted honorably with me and whatever regrets I might have came as much from my own ignorance as from their difficulties.
The Sun God’s Heir was back on the street. Still no folks lining up to throw money. I’ll admit the night I received the email from Musa to let me know they were closing in a week, was a dark and stormy night. Seven years.
A year has passed and I have completely re-edited RETURN, Book One, written REBIRTH, Book Two, and REDEMPTION, Book Three, in the trilogy and plan to release all three this year under the series name The Sun Gods Heir. The lesson learned: Do not rush to battle. The amount I’ve learned in this last year staggers me. More than in the first seven. Whether folks will line up and throw money is unknowable, but to all of the writers and creatives out there, I salute you. Work is work.
Here’s a glimpse at RETURN.
                                                              

Get your free copy of RETURN on Amazon.

                                                         And a brief intro to REBIRTH.

Set against the wave tossed years of white slavery and Barbary pirates, this is the epic story of René Gilbert and a journey that defies time as he draws on a larger awareness earned in previous lifetimes.
The plague’s dark fingers curl around Bordeaux. René must return home to save those he loves. But first he has to escape a Moroccan sultan’s clutches. In Bordeaux, an enemy waits, filled with a hatred three thousand years old. Only René can defeat this dark power, and only if he reclaims his own ancient past. In this arena, death is but the least of failure’s penalties.

Read more of REBIRTH on Amazon.

MW Publishing Recommends The Sun God's Heir

https://mirrorworldpublishing.wordpress.com/2017/02/21/mw-recommends-the-sun-gods-heir-by-elliott-baker/

MW RECOMMENDS: THE SUN GOD’S HEIR BY ELLIOTT BAKER

You may remember Elliott Baker from his query letter, which we used to show you what a well-written query letter looks like. Well, Elliott is now celebrating the re-release of his novel The Sun God’s Heir: Return and we want to help. So take a look at what Elliott Baker has to offer: 

The Sun God’s Heir is a swashbuckling series, set at the end of the seventeenth century in France, Spain and northern Africa. Slavery is a common plague along the European coast and into this wild time, an ancient Egyptian general armed with dark arts has managed to return and re-embody, intent on recreating the reign of terror he began as Pharaoh. René Gilbert must remember his own former lifetime at the feet of Akhenaten to have a chance to defeat Horemheb. A secret sect has waited in Morocco for three thousand years for his arrival.

For three thousand years a hatred burns. In seventeenth century France two souls incarnate, one born the child of a prosperous merchant, the other, determined to continue an incarnation begun long ago.

In ancient Egypt, there were two brothers, disciples of the pharaoh, Akhenaten. When the pharaoh died, the physician took the knowledge given and went to Greece to begin the mystery school. The general made a deal with the priests and became pharaoh. One remembers, one does not.

The year is 1671. René Gilbert’s destiny glints from the blade of a slashing rapier. The only way he can protect those he loves is to regain the power and knowledge of an ancient lifetime. From Bordeaux to Spain to Morocco, René is tested and with each turn of fate he gathers enemies and allies, slowly reclaiming the knowledge and power earned centuries ago. For three thousand years a secret sect has waited in Morocco.

After ages in darkness, Horemheb screams, “I am.” Using every dark art, he manages to maintain the life of the body he has bartered for. Only one life force in the world is powerful enough to allow him to remain within embodiment, perhaps forever. Determined to continue a reign of terror that once made the Nile run red, he grows stronger with each life taken.

Book Information:

Title: The Sun God’s Heir: Return, Book 1
Author Name: Elliott Baker
Genre: Historical Fiction, Fantasy
Release Date: January 2, 2017
Amazon Link:  http://amzn.to/2ivhu4zVisit the Blogs Participating in the Book Tour: http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/2017/02/schedule-book-tour-giveaway-sun-gods.html

Praise for The Sun God’s Heir: Return:

A great read! From the first sword fight I could not put it down. Adventure, romance, action with just the right amount of his history and mysticism. The main character Rene displays all the qualities a true hero should; loyal, smart, humble, and a ferocious warrior all opponents will fear before their end. I could not help but feel fully immersed in the story. One of the best reads I can remember, I am eagerly anticipating the next book in the series!! ~ Jason Battistelli

The Sun God’s Heir is a page turner. The development of the characters made you really care what happens next to each person, good or evil. The descriptions of the ships, homes and countryside transported me into the era and made me feel like I was one of the onlookers or a part of the story itself. The moment I finished I had to have the second book to see what happens next. Fabulous!” ~ Karyn Krause Cumberland, Esquire

The Sun God’s Heir is a fascinating combination of historical period fiction, sci-fi, and political intrigue. Elliott Baker weaves a tale that one would have to be catatonic not to enjoy. The character development ranks among the best I’ve read; truly, by halfway through the book I found myself thinking like Rene (the main character) in my own daily life. This is the sign of mastery of character depth which is so often lacking in contemporary fiction. And the pacing! Rarely does a book seem to move at the speed of a movie without feeling haphazard. I applaud Elliott for pulling that off, as only an experienced screenwriter or playwright could. If you like a quality story that bridges traditional genre boundaries, then the Sun God’s Heir is for you! ~ Joshua Bartlett

Meet the Author:

Award winning novelist and international playwright Elliott B. Baker grew up in Jacksonville, Florida but has spent the last thirty-five years or so living in sunny New Hampshire. With four musicals and one play published and produced throughout the United States, in New Zealand, Portugal, England, and Canada, Elliott is pleased to offer his first novel, Return, book one of The Sun God’s Heir trilogy. Among his many work experiences, Elliott was a practicing hypnotherapist for seven years. A member of the Authors Guild and the Dramatists Guild, Elliott lives in New Hampshire with his wife Sally Ann.

You can find Elliott at the following places: Website: http://elliottbaker.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElliottBakerAuthor/Twitter: https://twitter.com/ElliottBaker?lang=enGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8423737

Chapter Four!

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHEN I find that coward, he will regret this day,” Victor muttered as he shoved a young couple out of his way. The man spun around. His expression flashed from anger to fear as recognition set in.

Maurice laughed and pushed him again, harder, knocking him completely off-balance. The young man tried to remain afoot, but the uneven cobblestones defeated him, causing him to stumble and fall to his knees. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his lady’s arm and hurried her away.

The day after the ill-fated soirée, Victor and Maurice scoured Bordeaux searching for René. As each hour passed with no sign of him, Victor’s anger increased. “The coward must be hiding in his room.”

“He cannot stay there forever,” Maurice said. “’Tis hot and all this walking has made me thirsty.”

“I know what I thirst for, and ’tis not wine.” Victor grasped his sword’s hilt. “I intend to disfigure this one. The fool is far too pretty and will surely thank me for giving him the look of a man.”

Victor barged into a couple returning to their carriage from the day’s shopping expedition. Overburdened, the man’s packages spilled from his arms onto the unforgiving street. Crash, the familiar sound of breaking glass. Heads turned. A blood-red liquid seeped into the gravel between the stones.

“You clumsy oaf! Look what you have done. You will pay for that wine and everything else you have damaged.”

“Do you dare to insult me?” Victor stepped closer, his smirk inches from the luckless individual’s face.

Eyes widened as the man recognized Victor. He stammered, “Uh, I meant that…”

“What did you mean by ‘clumsy oaf’?” Victor smiled with brutal anticipation as his hand again moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. Sweat beaded on the man’s now pale forehead, his breath came faster in gulps. “Why, monsieur, I was swearing at myself for being such a clumsy fellow. I often get in my own way.”

Victor joyfully glared down at the now shaking man. “I notice that you carry a sword, sir. Are you prepared to use it?”

“I am sure that will not be necessary. No harm has been done here.” The man stepped to his left.

Victor moved to block him. “Oh, I beg to differ. You have accosted my sense of propriety. Even were you not speaking to me, my sensitive nature has suffered from the roughness of your tone. I demand satisfaction, monsieur. If you will send your seconds to meet with Maurice here, we can arrange to settle this debt.”

“Surely no duel is warranted. I beg your pardon if I have offended you, monsieur. S’il vous plaît, accept my apology, and let us be on our way.”

“If only I could. But I have been sorely unsettled, and all of these fine people witnessed that offense.” Victor glanced at the crowd that had gathered for some afternoon entertainment and nodded. “I doubt if even first blood will satisfy the empty feeling I am experiencing. But…” Victor let the word hang there.

“But what, monsieur? I am most disposed to agree to any compensation you might require.”

I will have your sword.”

“My sword?”

“Oui, your sword. Clearly you have no use for it, and I want to make certain that you do not injure yourself with it.”

The man withdrew his sword and handed it to Victor, hilt first. Victor pretended to study it. “Not a bad weapon, but I am certain ’tis made of inferior steel. Much like its owner. I must test it.” He touched the tip of the sword to the ground and smashed his boot into the blade. The blade bent into an L shape. “Non, I must have been mistaken in my appraisal. An inferior blade would have broken. This one did not, so I am more confident you will not harm yourself with it.” Victor handed the bent sword back to the man. “See that you are more careful when you are out walking, or you may find the next man less gracious and forgiving than I.” Victor smiled. “Come, Maurice. Now I am thirsty.”

The Sun God's Heir: Return Chapter Three

Here’s chapter three. Only one more week until the official launch of The Sun God’s Heir: Return Book One. It’s been a wild ride getting this book out. That’s cliché, but it so has. I hope you enjoy the read. On January 18^th, the book will go FREE for five days on Amazon. It’s up now at .99 for anyone who wants to get a jump on the story and perhaps add a very welcome review. Thanks for reading. 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MS3RCE0

Elliott

CHAPTER THREE

AN ARMY of tall young men costumed as Orpheus returned René’s glance as he passed through the mosaic of mirrors in the château’s entryway. He smiled at his personal collage of mirrored reflections. The multicolored troubadour’s blouse, over black pantaloons with a midnight black cape, fit in well with the riot of color visible on the moving crowd. René attached his mask, tying it in the back. Turning toward the mirrors, he was jarred by the mask’s reflection. Like most masks that depicted Orpheus, it portrayed a caricature of a face with a large nose and downturned mouth meant to express sorrow. This particular mask, however, was a Venetian work of art. Despair radiated from its features, transcending the human condition and evoking the artist’s intended response.

Straightening the mask, René entered the atrium and continued along a light filled hallway. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling along its length caused the light of innumerable small flames to shimmer their reflection from the intricate patterns of gold filigree along the walls and the polished Italian marble floor.

Once through the hallway, René encountered the first of a series of open spaces, each promising to be more elaborate than the previous. He paused in the entryway of a courtyard whose columns were floor to ceiling cages filled with hundreds of singing birds. René had been in his share of Bordeaux’s palaces and châteaus, but this one surpassed them all in its attempt to outdo its neighbors. The parade of historical and mythical beings flowed around him.

A voluptuous woman, barely clad in a Cleopatra costume, staggered forward and fell into his arms. She glanced up and giggled. René blinked as he breathed in her stale alcohol breath. He turned his head to find more acceptable air.

“Your pardon, monsieur.” She made no attempt to stand. “My, what a muscular young man you are. Are you available?”

René disengaged himself, yet continued to hold her upright, his hands firm beneath her arms.

“Madame, may I escort you to a seat?”

“You may escor… excor… take me to a nice dark corner.” She hiccupped, and then clamped a hand over her mouth to contain another round of giggles.

René scanned the room. “Are you here with someone?”

“You will do fine.”

René signaled to one of the servants to assist him, but before the servant could arrive, an overweight, elderly gentleman accosted him.

“You, monsieur, unhand my wife. How dare you? Do you not know who I am?” The man barked “I demand satisfaction. Who are your seconds?”

René turned his head to his right to meet the man’s glare. If he released Cleopatra, she would fall to the floor. Keeping her at arm’s length, René lifted the lady until her feet no longer touched the floor and then gently deposited her in her husband’s arms. “Would you mind holding her for a bit? I am afraid she has had more to drink than her constitution will allow. Forgive me, as I intended no offense. Your wife tripped. I merely prevented her from injuring herself. She did ask for you, sir— numerous times. You are most fortunate to have such a doting wife. I wish you both a merry evening.” René nodded and then moved off through the crowd.

René breathed in a deep breath and exhaled, grateful he had avoided being ‘called out.’ Dueling was illegal, but that fact had not dented its popularity. Duels rarely ended in death. More often, they stopped at first blood, or ‘touché.’ This would satisfy the honor of the offended. Tradition called for the insulted party to choose the weapons and the degree of danger the duel involved. Although hiring an alternate was permissible, René had found avoiding offense the wiser choice.

So far, by trading on his youth, he had escaped difficult situations. This had given him a reputation as unusual, perhaps, but he hoped, not cowardly.

René approached a lovely young woman who happened to be wearing a Eurydice costume. By her height, he knew she wasn’t Clarisse. Even though she was masked, René had a good idea who the mystery woman was. Still, there remained some doubt, which only added to the spice of the moment.

“I am so glad to have found you.” He bent low sweeping his arm before him as he performed an elaborate court bow. “Though I would have gone to Hades for you, ’tis much more convenient to find you here. Will you join me in this next dance?”

“’Tis a good thing I was not in Hades, where you would certainly have encountered greater difficulty rescuing me,” she said. “I would be honored to dance with you.”

The young woman introduced herself as Aimee de Montrochez, and she proved to be a vibrantly intelligent Eurydice to his Orpheus.

As the party progressed, some of the revelers had dispensed with their masks. René spotted Martin, who had removed his. Dressed as Apollo, he had his arm around Aphrodite who had to be Clarisse even though she had yet to unmask.

“I see some friends,” René said to Aimee. “Will you accompany me to greet them?”

“I may be willing to share you for a minute or two.” She broke into a smile.

“We should keep our masks on and see how long it takes them to recognize us.” René wrapped his arm around her waist and led her through the milling crowd.

“I have never seen a lovelier Aphrodite, although I must say your Apollo leaves something to be desired,” René said in his best imitation of a stentorian boatswain he knew.

“Bonsoir, René.” Clarisse nodded at Aimee. “And who is this lovely creature on your arm?”

“How did you recognize me?”

“I have an excellent sense of pitch. Once I hear a voice, I recognize it, especially if ’tis poorly disguised.” Clarisse released her mask and smiled. “Sorry to have spoiled your illusion.”

“Well, you fooled me,” said Martin. “I was about to challenge you for being so insulting.”

“Given your overwhelming skill with the sword, you had best keep the challenges to a minimum.” René smiled down at Aimee before he glanced at Clarisse. “May I present Mademoiselle Aimee de Montrochez? My friends, Martin Devereaux and Clarisse du Bourg.”

“Both your costumes are quite marvelous,” Aimee said.

Martin wagged his eyebrows as he flared open his gold cloak, exposing the shin length white and gold chiton that hung over his lean frame. Clarisse turned to René. A revealing bit of white gauze defined her as Aphrodite.

René swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off Clarisse. She glanced at Aimee. A long moment passed as the two women considered each other and then exchanged artificial smiles.

“René told me all about this afternoon’s ride. Must have left quite the impression.” Aimee sniffed into her kerchief.

“Martin redeemed my honor.” Clarisse’s painted smile widened.

“I will always redeem your honor, my lady.” Martin bowed low. All three turned toward René.

“I, ah, thought the macarons were terrific.” The stilted silence grew more uncomfortable until the music began.

“Ah, a cotillion,” René said with gratitude. “Shall we?” The dancers took their places on the crowded floor. The cotillion required each dancer to change partners throughout, bringing René to stand before Clarisse.

“You have never looked so beautiful,” René commented when they faced each other.

“You saw me this afternoon.” She twirled under his hand. “Oui, but you had on riding clothes—or maybe I never looked closely before.”

“’Tis necessary to look that closely in order to see my beauty?”

“Ah, no, of course not.” He missed a step and stumbled back into the correct footwork. “What I meant was…well, what I mean is…”

“Oui?”

“There is no way out of this for me, is there?”

“Not that I can see.”

“What I mean is that you are lovely. Today, tonight, and all the days to come.” He stole a glance to see if he had talked himself from the hole he had dug. “And that I am an ignorant buffoon without any sense at all. Will that work, do you think?”

“’Tis not Molière, but ’twill do for tonight.” She laughed as he spun her again.

As the dancers prepared to move to their next partners, René surprised himself when he blurted out, “I hate to let you go.”

“I hate to be let go.” Clarisse batted her eyelashes as she gracefully moved in front of the next man in line.

The round changed again and René found himself in front of Aimee, who wasted no time in asking, “Are you serious about her?”

René missed another step. “Serious? Although I have known of her for a few years, I did not meet her until this afternoon. What makes you ask?”

“Oh, nothing much. The field is open then.”

“Sounds like a hunt of some kind.” René stepped around her. “Should I be concerned? Are there weapons involved?”

“Depends on your definition of weapons.” Aimee glanced down her nose as she curtsied low.

“W-what?” René stammered. Aimee’s costume slipped a bit showing more décolleté than was polite. “I mean, what were we talking about?”

“Exactly. Do you think you could escort me home tonight?” She curtsied to him once more.

“Well, I…why, of course. ’Twould be my pleasure.”

“It might, it just might.” She winked as she moved on in the line.

What had just happened? The next few minutes went by in something of a blur, René moved through the dance steps and partners by habit until he heard a loud slap and a curse. Clarisse stood in front of Victor Gaspard. Apparently the fool had once again done something inappropriate, and Clarisse had rewarded him for his trouble.

René pushed his way through the dancers toward Clarisse. Gaspard was a couple of years older than René. A natural bully, rumor had it that he hurt people for pleasure. As a child Victor had been heavy. Now an adult, his height had caught up with his girth, and he was just big. If the rumors were true, Victor had already killed two men in duels, perhaps more.

Clarisse held her gown together across her bosom. Martin scowled and stormed toward Victor.

“Not good.” René reached Clarisse and Victor seconds before Martin.

“What have you done now, you—” Martin started to yell.

“Clarisse, are you all right? Martin, see to her.” René caught Clarisse’s eye, and she nodded.

“Martin, I am feeling faint and need some air. Will you help me outside?” She draped herself over his arm and steered him away from Victor.

René turned to find himself face to face with the flushed Gaspard. The air snapped with Victor’s rage. He required a target, and fate or fortune had selected René.

“Who do we have here?  Why,  ’tis  our local coward, the snivel-ing pacifist. With all the heroes available, she must not be very good if you are the best she could find,” Victor snorted.

“Well, weakling, what do you have to say?” echoed Maurice, Victor’s habitual shadow. He edged nearer to Victor’s elbow, parroting the words of his god in a whiny voice.

The crowd, their eyes glittering like jackals awaiting a kill, pushed and elbowed their way closer to René and Victor.

Aimee watched with a focused expression.

“Gilbert, get on your knees and apologize for the woman’s actions. I have been grievously assaulted. Do you not agree, Maurice?” Victor folded his arms across his chest.

Maurice glowed with anticipation, a runt hyena posturing with the pack behind him. “Oh, I concur. Definitely on his knees.”

“Embarrassing, but there is no pain. You would gain more satisfaction by injuring me, especially in front of all these people.”

“Given your cowardice, you refuse to duel. What do you suggest? Fight like the lower classes, bare fisted?” asked Victor.

“Non. I was thinking more along the lines of a game. I hold my hands together out in front of me, and you smack my hands. For each time you connect with my hands, you may punch me in the face. You get five tries.” Victor considered himself a master swordsman, with lightning hands, an arrogance René counted on.

“Sounds like good sport, but what do you get?”

“If by some small chance you should miss all five times, I get to leave this soirée in one piece, with no offense taken on either side.”

“Done. Your smile will look different when this is finished.” Victor smirked. “Will you need someone to hold you up?”

“I think I can manage.” René breathed deeply and allowed that calm, centered focus to settle within. When he looked into Victor’s eyes, in that timeless interval between one instant and the next, a heavily muscled ancient Egyptian general stood in Victor’s place, armed and armored in bronze. René blinked and Victor’s habitual sneer once again faced him.

René’s iron focus remained firm. He would consider the vision later. This moment had no room for its examination. He stood easily, balanced, aware, his hands held out, palms touching. As he anticipated, Victor made the first attempt as soon as he extended his hands. René moved them out of the way, and Victor’s right hand passed through the space where his hands had been. So violent was Victor’s swing that he almost fell. René reached out to steady him. Victor knocked his arm away.

“That one did not count,” said Victor.

“Why is that?” René asked.

“Because you were not ready.”

“I am ready now.” He held his hands out again.

Victor tried once more to catch René before he was set. But as the Maestro had taught him, one must always be set. Circumstance rarely waits for us to be ready. Once again, Victor’s hand smashed through empty air.

“One,” the revelers called. René nodded to the onlookers, grateful they were involved. He had little confidence in Victor’s motivation to count to five.

This time Victor wound up with his right hand and swung his left. But again René’s hands were absent, and Victor’s angry swing met no resistance.

“Two,” the glittering audience shouted. More people joined the throng around them, vying for a choice location to see the action.

René had pulled his hands up every time so far. On the next attempt, he moved them down out of the way. Victor’s swipe missed by a league.

“Three,” the chant increased in volume. Victor’s face was a deep blood red growing darker by the minute, partly from the exertion but more from the embarrassment of not having connected.

There would be no good ending to this confrontation, but René hoped he could avoid Victor long enough to let the incident fade. He considered allowing Victor to punch him once, thinking that perhaps that would satisfy him. Again, he heard the Maestro’s words. Evil will never be satisfied. There is no bargain with the devil. Do not ever pretend that there is.”

Another attempt, this one turned Victor full circle like the dancing bear in the circus that stopped in Bordeaux the previous year.

“Four.” The crowd jeered louder.

For his final shot, Victor tried to secure René’s arm with his left hand while striking his outstretched hands with his right. Even thus encumbered, René easily lifted his hands out of the way. Victor only managed to slap himself.

“Five,” the throng roared, as hands grabbed René and carried him away from the contest. It was good they did, for René had seen only the promise of death in Victor’s bloodshot stare. René caught Aimee’s arm as the crowd hustled him along. “If you want to ride with me, now would be a good time to leave,” he shouted.

“Timing is everything,” she yelled back. They raced to where his driver had brought the carriage around.

“The young lady said you would be needin’ immediate transportation.” Marc gripped the reins tight.

Smart girl, that Clarisse.