The Silenced Tale, стр. 125
“I think,” I say, reaching out and tugging my wife into my arms, dropping an appreciative kiss on her forehead, “that this is an excellent treat. Thank you for arranging for us to have the set to ourselves today.”
“But how it looks—”
“Bao bei,” I say. “I don’t care how it looks. It is an interpretation; it will never be entirely correct. And I am fine with that. This adaptation cannot tarnish my memories of my childhood home.”
“Okay,” Pip says.
“And I’m ecstatic that we are here, supporting you as you do this,” I say. “I know that it has been difficult for you, learning to love the books again, finding your way through the darkness of our experiences and into this light. I adore that it is you who is midwifing the show. It is appropriate. You, the Reader who wields Authorial Intent.”
“Mmmm,” Pip says, and leans up for another kiss. “I love it when you speak in poncy capitals.”
“Gar Gar!” Alis shouts suddenly, and we are both startled enough that we separate and turn to her. She is standing in the chair, the unwieldy novel clutched in one hand, pointing with the other at the portrait over the library fireplace. A portrait of, ah . . .
“My father,” I correct her. “But the resemblance is remarkable. Well spotted, sweeting.”
Preening under the praise, Alis turns in a joyful circle.
“We sit on our bums in chairs,” Pip reminds her, and Alis plops down onto her bottom and resumes staring at Algar Turn. However, upon closer inspection, I realize that I was the one in the wrong.
While this is the location the portrait of my father has hung for decades in the real Turn Hall, this painting is, indeed, of Elgar.
“M-my good-goodness,” I say. “It . . . A-Alis wa-was right.”
Pip looks up and gasps.
“Well,” I say, moved. “Th-that’s a b-b-bi-bit of a ni-ce tri-ri-but-te.”
“Yeah,” Pip says, and tucks herself under my arm, wrapping her arms around my waist, staring up at the portrait with me. “Are you happy?”
“Yes. And you?”
“Yes,” Pip laughs, and winks at me. “Though, I’m the only person I know whose in-laws have an ISBN number. Do you think Kintyre and Bevel are?”
“Kintyre has joined a dojo in Seattle, and has decided he wants to be a stunt man when he grows up. And Bevel Wordsmith has discovered fan fiction. I think they are both as happy as they will ever be, in the Overrealm.”
Pip laughs. “He wrote the scroll-sagas to learn one sort of writing. It makes utter sense that he would write fan fiction here to learn another. Did you know that Elgar’s publisher is absolutely hounding him for a contract?”
“Oh?” I ask, because of course I knew. I was the first person Bevel came to with the offer, asking me to interpret the legal jargon for him.
“Yeah, apparently all his fan fiction is the stuff that happened around the eight books Elgar wrote, and of course, he’s got the voice nailed down.”
“Naturally,” I say. “As it is his own.”
“Elgar’s agent, Kim, is going bananas for it. They want to make an anthology. They will call it The Untold Tales.”
“Will he do it, do you think?”
“It’d be good for him, if he did,” Pip says. “I really think that. And he’s had two meetings with them already.”
“Well, then,” I say. Alis rockets off the chair, and into my knees, reaching up to be included in our hug. “A third meeting will decide it, then.”
“Of course. Third time’s the charm,” Pip says, and kisses first Alis, then me, sweetly. I curl my arms over her shoulders, press her close to me, and kiss her again, a little less sweet this time.
“It always is,” I say. “Three quests. Three confrontations with the Viceroy. Three little Turns in this room right now. We even won the day by threes.”
Pip grins and kisses me silent. Then she stops and pulls back, her brow wrinkled prettily as she considers what I just said. “Wait, what three things did we use?”
“Swords, and Words, and hacking,” I say. “Your cleverness, my skills, and Kintyre and Bevel’s brawn.”
Pip blinks up at me, suddenly grinning, eyebrows arched high with mirth. “Huh,” she says, brown eyes twinkling mischievously. “Fucking trilogies.”
The End
Acknowledgments
My first set of thanks goes to my agent, Laurie McLean, who was such a massive champion of The Untold Tale and what I was trying to do with it, and who started me on the path of pursuing a series when I thought Pip and Forsyth’s story was done after one book.
My REUTS Team, Ashley, Kisa, Cal, and Voule, for not only producing some seriously gorgeous books and covers out of my blundering mass of words, but who were also cool with me accidentally expanding the series by like, a lot, and for being open and willing to letting me meddle. I’ve never felt so strongly that I have a valid voice in the publishing process, and I appreciate it immensely. I think we’ve made something really awesome together, folks.
Cory (Kora), Todd (Todd), Cheryl (Turtle), and Bob (Bob), who won the right to name a character in this book from a contest, but who didn’t know their characters would become vital ones. Thanks!
To my beta-readers, Cory and Ashley, who help me sound more clever than I really am.
Alix Malorie and Anna Tan, who did marvelous de-bloat edits and sensitivity reads.
Devon Taylor-Black for creating the tabletop campaign the characters play in this book, so that I knew it would be a viable setting and adventure when I described it. Devon has also been a tireless champion of this series, and an insightful, thorough beta-reader who isn’t afraid to tell it like it is. Thanks must also go to her husband, Gavin, who is also a huge supporter, her son Taran, who allows me to cuddle him and tell him stories, and baby