Tap and Die is a 90’s action story full of characters who use wands and staves instead of guns on the set of an epic fantasy world. I’m releasing it serially over the course of 6 months — the first 25% is FREE and the rest requires a subscription: if you subscribe for at least 3 months, I will send you a hard copy before the book releases even if you don’t finish the story.
The driver looked cockeyed at Black Jack Dawes’s half-frozen hands that held the other reins. The driver took kings and nobles all over the Ivrian side of the world, not crusty old tradesmen in khaki dusters, range hats, knee-high boots slathered in mud, and that black cloak with those unfixed stars on it. And no sword? But it was Black Jack’s knuckles that drew the driver’s focus. They were as frozen as two hands could get: white on a purple field.
“Renaud’s,” Jack explained. “No circulation in extremities. Plus I hate going—”
The team of horses sped over the downy green hillock and the many-wheeled carriage got air. Jack’s knuckles went whiter. His feet slammed into the foothold and his back braced even deeper into the red velvet seat cushions. As wheels hit earth, the old range man grunted, “—fast.”
“Oh, sorry, Your Excellence, I—”
“No ambassador. Nor emissary.”
“Your wife is.”
“So bill her, cut the titles.”
The driver nodded.
“Honorifics,” Jack said and spat. “Every horse breeder, every smith’s apprentice, every cloth merchant from here to Tetra has some sort of gold salesman-of-the-month plaque, some jade crystal award for the same shit they do every day. Here’s a cheap piece of metal that looks a little like the metal we named this plaque after in order to celebrate the thing you’re already doing just to survive.” He threw up a little in his mouth in a not-subtle way. “Fool’s gold is still for fools even if you make a trophy out—”
The carriage caught air again, and Jack almost puked.
“I’ll slow down a bit,” said the driver.
“I’m not… I’m not queasy.” Jack gagged again, audibly. “I’ll be fine I just… hnngh… I just don’t like feeling like I’m flying through the air, that’s all.”
“You fly often?” The driver chuckled.
“The boss has me do it far more often than I like.”
“Here, for your hands.” The driver took the reins in one hand and passed over a pair of gloves.
“I have gloves.”
“These are entangled with lava. They’re constantly warm, plus they’ll help with the nerves.”
Jack Dawes raised an eyebrow.
“Trust me. Once you get there—you’re changing, right?”
Black Jack looked down at his outerwear, confused.
The driver chuckled. “I wouldn’t go to an inaugural ball looking like that.”
“I hate these things.”
“Okay, so when you’re all stripped down between outfits, put these gloves on and put your gloved hands on the mirror.”
“Why do I have to be naked?”
“Shhhh, trust the process.”
Black Jack raised his eyebrow.
“Allow the mirror to fog and let the room steam up and you’ll feel completely warm. That’s why naked.”
“Wouldn’t I be warmer with clothes too?”
“No. Plus you’re naked so you realize it more, just trust the process! Only downside to these things is they attract lava and magma, but it’s not like you’re going to the surface of some star.”
Black Jack had done that before. He didn’t recommend it. “Know what I hate about inaugural balls?”
The driver waited, sipping his cocoa out of his copper longcup, which had long gone cold.
“There’s always some inauguration or convocation or launch of some new ship that needs christening for some maiden voyage. People start shit far more often than they finish shit. For once, I want a terminal ball. Celebrate the death of something. Or its culmination at least.”
The driver looked again at the black cloak, and it reminded him of the angel of death. Poking out of the vest pocket was a crowfoot attached to a long bone, sharpened to a point.
“The Crowfoot Mile?” he asked.
Jack grimaced. He hated that people only remembered that part of it.
“You’re a Storyweaver?”
“That’s what the cloak is for.”
The driver truly saw it for the first time, and his eyes widened. Then he focused on the road ahead. “Don’t you think the new military allegiance between the Common Realms puts guys like you out of work?”
“I wish it had.”
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