Here’s Chapter 14 of Karda and a brief note about—well, stuff

This is the last chapter I will post. I am frantically working on getting the books up and running for publication next month.

It’s spring here, finally, and I’ve been working outside, planting all my pots with begonias, geraniums, petunias, sweet potato vine—did you know there are black sweet potato vines? 

My one small pot of herbs is doing great already. The sage plant is getting old and woody. The pot is slowly crumbling—I dare not move it. It's been in the same place on the porch there are violets growing out from under where it sits on the concrete. So next year I may have to plant a new sage. The chives, the thyme, the oregano I can repot, but the sage—not so much. Yesterday it was 95 degrees outside, and I had the top down on my car with the AC running. Today is cooler, but yes, summer heat approaches. We’ve had about three days of spring. It would be nice if summer could be cool, too. But—it’s Oklahoma. Probably not much chance of that. 

Enjoy this chapter and look for Karda and  Hunter—Vol II soon.

If you are not already signed up for my newsletters, please do so, because I want you to be the first to know when they are available. 

Here’s Chapter 14. Enjoy

Chapter 14

"Readen has assured me that there are no groups of marauders sheltering inside our borders." Roland looked to Readen. "Tell Altan what you found when you took the Mounted Patrol out there." He looked back at Altan. "He spent two tendays in the most deplorable conditions." His steward entered the room and stood behind him with a handful of papers. Roland flapped his hand at Readen in a come-on-tell-all motion and started going through the papers, carrying on a sotto-voce conversation with the steward.

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Chapter 13 of Karda: Adalta Vol. I

Marta breathed in the brisk upper air of the foothills as Sidhari circled up the rising thermal. She'd fought to be the Mi'hiru for this expedition. Altan was taking Guardian Stefan's place in the annual trade talks with Restal, and Marta knew her assessment of the politics between the two quadrants, as well as the outcome, would be information Kayne would relish. Restal and Toldar were both her territory.

But it was difficult to keep her mental barriers up when she and Altan were together so often. She was still getting used to hearing Sidhari in her head. Altan's voice brought on vicious headaches—and the occasional doubt about her sanity.

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How I Write What I Write

For the past several weeks I have been editing both Karda and Hunter, books one and two of the Adalta Series. I don’t plot before I start writing, but in this editing process, I’ve realized the problems that causes me. Extraneous plot elements that don’t go anywhere—just kind of leave annoying hang-in-the-air spots—so my story starts looking a little like my car did when I parked it under a tree full of birds. Well, maybe not that bad. But when I have to figure out what to do with them —those stray ideas, it seems like it is.

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Chapter 12 Karda: Adalta Vol. I

~His name is Baltu,~ said Sidhari. Her head hung over Marta's as she and Altan groomed the little male. Marta handed Altan a soft cloth and the green bottle of the oil she used on wing feathers. She scratched Baltu's head to keep him calm. Altan worked, crooning softly to the little Karda. They ran loose in the mews when they weren't being fed or groomed. Baltu followed Altan everywhere he went, his cries piteous and his immature wings beating futilely whenever Altan flew off on Kibrath. Despite herself, she had to admit Altan was good at soothing the skittish baby.

Marta scratched the downy feathers under the fledgling's neck, irritated that Altan was so close to them. He was there with her every moment he could spare. She couldn't complain that he was interfering. He knew what he was doing. It was just so--irritating. Her fingers tangled with Altan's as they both reached to scratch the same soft spot under Baltu's beak.

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A Cold, Rainy and Fun Easter Sunday on April Fool’s day

It was cold, drizzly, and generally miserable outside, but our annual Easter family gathering was a huge success anyway. There were 50 of us—the biggest Easter ever—at Allen and Lorie’s. How did our Easter grow to 50 people? What happened to population control? Lorie had put us on notice, sending a message to bring coats and remember they had twenty acres for us to roam.

I think only my sister (and fellow writer) Alice’s family came from out of town. Brother Allen (the dog trainer extraordinaire), or actually his wife, Lorie and her father, Larry (our sculptor extraordinaire) set up heaters and tables in the garage, so Lorie didn’t have to put her furniture in storage to accommodate all of us.

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