All-Patron Reward: Chapter 1 of Early Draft of Phoenix Rising

There are often a lot of changes between the beginning of a novel or series and its final form. The next few posts here will be looking at the changes between the start of the Balanced Sword series and the final version. 

The original title of Phoenix Rising was Fall of Saints, with the second volume intended to be titled Demon, Dragon, Phoenix, Toad and the last Promise of the Dying God. The "Justiciars" were called "Saints" in the original, and the name "Justiciar" was given to the people called "Adjudicators" in the final version. Kyri Vantage was, originally, Kyrie Ross, and several other names were different. 

The very earliest version I have... I'm not posting. It's pretty clumsy in a number of areas, although much of the original plot and characters remain fairly well untouched. 

However, it's worth taking a look at the next draft, where I was still working out exactly how I would introduce the various characters and draw the threads of their lives together. In this first chapter, we see I started with Tobimar instead of Kyri(e)-- and while the result of his first chapter is the same, it's rather different in all details...

i.

“Honored Lord of Waters, your son (as unworthy as he is) presents himself at your command.”

So addressed, the tall, stooped figure turned. Illuminated only by the reflected sunlight that entered the dim room, it was his white robe that stood out, the dark face and hands making it seem almost as though a shadow occupied the folds of clothing rather than a man. But a man it was, now studying with narrow gaze the slender youth before him.

The boy stood motionless, both hands held out before him, palm up, in the traditional manner of one awaiting the favor of their Lord. Two Warders of the Skies accompanied him, one on either side, dressed in the traditional falcon-emblazoned light armor and white cloaks. The boy tried to return the man’s gaze as openly as he should, emphasizing the one difference between them; where the man’s dark brows overshadowed eyes of pure black, the boy’s glittered a brilliant blue, the color of the sky above the palace. The slight tautness of the lips, however, belied the youth’s attempt to appear at ease.

“May the Spring of the Court ever flow for you, my son.” the Lord said finally. “It is well that you have honored your aged father with your presence.” He looked at the two Warders. “You may leave us, Warders. I would speak with my son as a father, and he as a son to me.”

The Warders bowed and silently backed away; however, the significance of the glance between the two did not escape the Lord.

“May the Sky protect you, boy! Even your own Warders realize what trouble you are in!” he burst out once the doors had closed. “Tobimar, where? Where have I gone wrong? All your brothers and sisters follow the appointed path, but you seem determined to throw away everything we offer!”

Tobimar gazed resolutely at the floor. “The Lord of Waters speaks as he knows it. It would be folly for one so young, even be he Talimar’s son, to speak otherwise of things that he, unworthy --”

“Eyrech-ka!” snorted Talimar. Tobimar jumped; he’d never heard his father use that particular obscenity before. “Enough, boy. I sent away the Warders so we had no need of formality; don’t try to hide behind that line of sanctimonious sands-covered crap.”

“All right, father. Then I want to know why it matters!You’ve got seven other children, why can’t you spare one of them from the traditions? I can bow and dance and serve the paran and salt in the traditional way. I can recite the seven rituals of opening doors and as you just said I can babble for hours in that stupid indirect way tradition demands. Why do I have to start living that way?”

Lord Talimar sighed. “Tobimar, you mention only the most superficial parts of tradition.”

“Paran and salt?”

“Don’t try the way of the sudden wave on me, boy. Of course paran and salt isn’t superficial. The rest is, however. You refuse to study the ancient scrolls. You pay only the most cursory attention to the histories. You’ve got a decent grasp of how the mines of Firewall work, I’ll grant you that, but the rest of your time is spent meditating with that... magician...” Talimar spat out the word, “and practicing swordplay!”

“And what’s wrong with using a sword, I’d like to know?” demanded Tobimar. “Wardmaster Koli-a herself said I had a gift with it. And Master Aenur is not a mage!”

The Lord of Waters of Skysand visibly restrained another sigh. “As you will, though I see little difference between his claims to draw forth your “inner skills” and those of the mages when it comes to things like seeing without light and moving things with a thought. And yes, you have a gift with the sword. But these are hardly proper studies for a ... well, let’s be blunt, a prince! A Lord-To-Be. We have Warders and other warriors to wield the sword for you. We prosper on force in trading, not force in arms.” Walking to a low writing desk carved of polished granite, Talimar took from it a roll of parchment. “I had hoped to hear you a bit more reasonable in private, but it no longer matters. Tobimar Silverun of the Waters of Skysand, I, your father and Lord, have decided.”

Tobimar winced and stared at his father warily. His full name boded ill every time he heard it. “Decided what?”

“Since you’re so direct in action, I’ll send you directly into action. You are to take ship immediately to Waterwall, the seventh of the Seven Cities, and there you will take command of it as my agent. I will expect you to keep its position as one of our finest trading ports, administer its needs, and in all other ways either be, or,” he smiled savagely, “learnto be, an expert ruler.”

“What?” Tobimar goggled. “Marinell is three years older than me -- why isn’t HE going?”

“Because, unlike you, he seems willing to try to learn such things before actually needing them.”

Tobimar glared up at his father and folded his arms. “No.”

“Now I -- what did you say?”

“I said ‘no’. I’m not doing this.”

Talimar stood perfectly still for several moments. The silence seemed to weigh more and more heavily on the boy; he felt his heart’s pounding speeding up. His father’s rages were worse the quieter they were... and he’d never seen his father stand silently for so long.

When Talimar resumed speaking, it was worse than Tobimar had imagined; it was no longer his father speaking, but the Lord of all Skysand, Talimar Silverun of the Spring of the Court. “The Lord of Waters may be too infirm to understand clearly what is being said by his child; indeed, it would seem impossible that he has heard what he believes was said, for if he had heard that which his aged ears thought they had heard, he would have to act upon such words in a most regrettable way. Would this Lord’s child humor his aged father and repeat that which he just said, so that we may hear more clearly?”

The message was clear. His father was giving him one last chance to back up, to change his mind. “Oh great Lord of Waters, you cannot be so infirm. This one, unworthy that he is, is sure that the Lord of Waters could never mistake that which he hears. Yet will I repeat these words, that he may hear and know he is neither infirm nor aged. Though it pains the son to speak so to the Lord and Father, there is no help for it but that the son -- foolish though he may be -- has refused the most generous command of his gracious Lord.”

Talimar’s shoulders sagged, then straightened. “Then there is no choice left to me.” He pointed at Tobimar. “Know you the penalty for renouncing our ways?”

“But I’m not --”
 “SILENCE! If you refuse to do that which our ways require, you renounce them! Would you debate that with me?”

“I --” Tobimar closed his mouth suddenly. He felt -- he thought rightly -- that there was a difference between doing things your way, and actively working against the system. But he also realized that his father wouldn’t see it that way.

Talimar waited for a moment to see if he would speak. When a moment passed without Tobimar saying anything, he nodded. “Perhaps there yet remains a bit of wisdom within you. I ask again, know you the penalty?”

Tobimar closed his eyes. “That the ancient curse not pursue; that the Sand and Sky remain whole; that no discord break the fragile pact; that all these things be and continue, it is written in the Law that those who deny the Ways ...” he swallowed and finished, “...those who deny the Ways be banished from the Realm.” He looked up. “You wouldn’t, father!”

“I would.” the Lord of Waters was both sad and grim. “You speak the ritual as though it were nothing but words. And I suppose to you that is all they are. You have not felt the weight of the Curse -- none who live today, or who lived a hundred years ago, have. All you see or hear is an occasional Demon, a lesser creature, that finds those of our blood and that the Warders destroy. You have not seen, or met those who have seen, the utter destruction their kind can bring, and will bring, to our lands, even if we still be the threat to them that the demons believe. Yet still I believe in the Prophecy, in the power of those words and the Power that lies behind them in our history. I will not risk our land for your own comfort, Tobimar! Take that which you would and go! Unless you would return to our Ways, or until That Which Was Lost is once more Returned--” and here he smiled, as one acknowledging a forlorn hope, “you may not set foot in Skysand again, save only to trade or as a day’s pause in one’s journey.”

The cold truth was sinking into him. He almost opened his mouth to take it back, but a small core of stubbornness remained. He would not be forced into anything. “But... but where will I go? What will I do?”

“A gifted swordsman is always in demand in some lands. If what that... Master has been teaching you has any use, perhaps it will aid you. He claimed to work for the powers of right, and the Cloudwatchers saw no darkness in him, which is why I’ve tolerated his presence; perhaps you will find such a path for you.”

“When... when must I leave?”

“The sooner the better, my son. Humor this much of my tradition at least; I fear great evils will befall us if those of us sworn to Skysand’s defense do not keep to our oaths.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I wish I could say I didn’t understand you. Then I could see this as madness. But I understand all too well. The strictures and the customs can become ties that bind us like a prison, and for those with the eyes of the Sky, no prison, however gilded, can be a home. So it has always been. I had hoped it would be different for you...”

An unfamiliar stinging sensation in his eyes suddenly clouded his vision. Tears? Tobimar tried to hide them, but the warm trickle down his cheeks betrayed him. He wanted to be angry ... he was angry with his father. But at the same time... how could he be? All at once what he saw was a tired, very sad old man. “I... I’m sorry, Father.”

“But you will not change your mind?”

“I can’t.”

“Then you must go.” Talimar turned his back and walked away to gaze out the window.  Tobimar stared at his back for a few moments, then turned himself and walked away. As he let the great curtain fall shut behind him, he spoke once more.

“Goodbye, Father.”

-------

 So many things changed from this first version; the most obvious and pervasive was to change the Lord of Waters to Tobimar's mother, rather than his father, but so much more. Instead of being a pretty petulant child, he's exiled for a far greater purpose. His relationship with his mother is warmer and less superficial, and sets a better stage for everything he does later. The later draft, in my view, was better in every way.