“It doesn’t really look like you.”\u00a0 Teague, a tall, lanky fellow with yellowish brown-freckled skin and dubious colored eyes, is holding the cover art for the latest Vatta book.<\/p>\n
“Your official visa image doesn’t look much like you,” Ky says.\u00a0 She looks tired.<\/p>\n
“They got the bone structure right,” Rafe says.\u00a0 “It’s just the color–”<\/p>\n
“I’m pale with cold.\u00a0 I probably was, though I don’t think I was ever that<\/em> pale.”\u00a0\u00a0 Ky takes a long swallow and sighs.\u00a0 “If that woman doesn’t quit keeping me up all night and running all day, I will be.\u00a0\u00a0 And we’re still in the early stages.\u00a0\u00a0 I thought she was slowing down.”<\/p>\n “She is, actually.\u00a0 She’s just faster than she was with Cold Welcome<\/em>.”\u00a0\u00a0 Rafe tastes his drink, sets it down with a little thump.\u00a0 “Well, would you look at that.\u00a0 I never thought\u00a0 she’d<\/em> be here this early.\u00a0 And in uniform.”<\/p>\n The tall, fit woman in a Slotter Key Land Forces uniform with stripes halfway up her arm has a large red-gold dog on a lead.\u00a0 Predictably, she’s met with “Madam,\u00a0 pets are not allowed–”<\/p>\n “Ginger’s a character actor, not a pet,” Sergeant Major Morrison says.\u00a0 She shows a paper, the character contract.<\/p>\n He shrugs in defeat.\u00a0 “Well, then, please keep the dog on leash and under control.\u00a0 May I have your name for the list?”<\/p>\n “Of course.\u00a0 And these are my friends,\u00a0 Kris and Irene, and my neighbor, Master Sergeant Temple.”\u00a0\u00a0 The two women are in civilian clothes with white coats over them; the master sergeant, like the sergeant major, is in uniform.\u00a0\u00a0 Morrison looks around, spots Ky, nods politely.<\/p>\n Ky waves.\u00a0 “Come on–grab a table before it gets crowded.\u00a0\u00a0 Are you having dinner here or just drinks?”<\/p>\n “Dinner,” Kris says.\u00a0\u00a0 “While she<\/em> sleeps.”\u00a0 Knowing glances and chuckles from the others.\u00a0 Everyone knows who she<\/em> is, the woman who rules their world.\u00a0\u00a0 They gather around a single table, and Ginger lies down quietly under it.\u00a0 “And not any of the things she<\/em> writes for us in the manuscript, either. ” She brings up the table menu.\u00a0\u00a0 “Oh, good.\u00a0 Melon-citrus salad.\u00a0 I don’t know what she<\/em>‘s got against melons, but I love ’em.”\u00a0\u00a0 They all order.\u00a0 More and more people are coming into Universes, some staying up by the bar and others settling at booths and tables.\u00a0 Morrison and her friends have never seen any of these people before.<\/p>\n “Who are those?” Morrison asks, as a group of barelegged men and women in maroon tunics swagger in, putting their short swords into a rack that’s appeared by the door.<\/p>\n “Different universe,”\u00a0 Rafe says.\u00a0 “Those are Fox Company mercenaries; their commander’s a major character in the previous series.”<\/p>\n “She writes…fantasy<\/em>? ”<\/p>\n “Yes.\u00a0 Which doesn’t mean it’s any less real than you are.”\u00a0\u00a0 The man who appears suddenly beside their table is dark, darker even than Ky Vatta, with a pattern to his skin that\u00a0 almost resembles scales.\u00a0 He gives off heat and a faint smell of forge-fire.\u00a0 “Are you wise, Sergeant Major?”<\/p>\n “Not nearly wise enough,” Morrison says.\u00a0\u00a0 “Though I strive to learn.”<\/p>\n “That is well,” the man says.\u00a0 As he turns he shifts a little, and hints of his real shape–or his other real shape–show for a moment.\u00a0\u00a0 He bows to a woman in brown, with a red jewel on her brow, and sits down beside her.<\/p>\n “This place…” Morrison says;\u00a0 her voice trails off when a man with an iridescent feathered throat in brilliant blue-violet, like a hummingbird’s,\u00a0 strolls in looking smug.\u00a0\u00a0 “Is that<\/em> one of hers?”<\/p>\n “Oh, yes.\u00a0\u00a0 That’s Milo Ardry.\u00a0 He bought a cut-rate rejuvenation and that’s what happened.\u00a0 It’s now the fashion in his culture.\u00a0 Don’t pay attention to him; he’ll brag about it for hours.\u00a0\u00a0 It gave her<\/em> even more ideas for humodification.”<\/p>\n “Do the crews ever…mix?”<\/p>\n “Yes, indeed.\u00a0 You’d like the woman the dragon is with–”<\/p>\n “Dragon?”\u00a0 Morrison’s brows rise.<\/p>\n “The fellow who asked you if you were wise.\u00a0 He asks everyone, eventually. \u00a0 We don’t know who he really is; he stays in character even here.\u00a0 But she’s quite interesting–has stories about the author from way back.”<\/p>\n The food arrives. \u00a0 They are only halfway through dessert when the manager comes to their table. \u00a0 “Author’s Request:\u00a0 Vatta 7 characters to the set please.”<\/p>\n “She could have slept another half hour,” mutters Teague.\u00a0 “It’s the weekend!”<\/p>\n “She never does,” Ky says.\u00a0 “OK, folks, let’s not be late.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “It doesn’t really look like you.”\u00a0 Teague, a tall, lanky fellow with yellowish brown-freckled skin and dubious colored eyes, is holding the cover art for the latest Vatta book. “Your official visa image doesn’t look much like you,” Ky says.\u00a0 She looks tired. “They got the bone structure right,” Rafe says.\u00a0 “It’s just the color–” Read More…<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,28,5],"tags":[20,31,3],"class_list":["post-220","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-interlude","category-snippet","category-vatta","tag-characters","tag-snippet","tag-waystation-huygens"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/220"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=220"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/220\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":223,"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/220\/revisions\/223"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=220"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=220"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/elizabethmoon.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=220"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}