Short Stories
“The Poison Gardener”
Not everything in the Poison Garden of Kos Rakhin will kill you on the spot. Poison gardens are a real thing: places dedicated to the cultivation of toxic plants. Generally speaking they sound cooler and scarier than they are, because most plants — though not quite all! — are only dangerous if you consume them. […]
“Any Rose My Mother Raised, Any Lane My Father Knows”
I grew up inside three cages, each more subtle than the last. Two my parents built in order to keep me safe; the third was of their making, but not of their will. The ores from which its bars were forged were accident, disobedience, determination, love, but the metal with which they are wrought is […]
“Dead Man’s Map”
If it weren’t for the sudden, panicked scramble to quarters, the encounter would almost have been funny. This is an unusual story for me. I’ve been a guest several times on the Worldbuilding for Masochists podcast, where they have a long-running schtick of asking authors to contribute setting and culture ideas to a shared fictional […]
“Legio XVII Inquieta”
One of the students had unearthed the top edge of the artifact, and Annike crossed herself three times in relief that it was Hannes. Some of this summer’s crop of undergrads were stupid enough to grab the exposed corner and pull, hoping to yank the whole thing out and doing untold damage instead. A few […]“Embers Burning in the Night”
Yes, I’ll tell the truth. As best as I can remember it, anyway, and I wasn’t there myself for all of it, so — Of course you understand that, my lords. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you angry. Angrier, I mean. This was originally supposed to be a novel trilogy. Well, no. Originally […]
“999 Swords”
After the great war of the Taira and the Minamoto, after the betrayals, after the escape and the years in hiding, two men sit on either side of a fire.“A Mighty Huntress”
The cat did not look like a “Flufferina.” This is one of the silliest pieces I’ve ever written. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way; sometimes it’s fun to cut loose with a story that’s intended from the start to be humorous and light-hearted. It says something that I wrote this one on my […]
“A Tale of Two Tarōs”
The boy’s name was Tarō, and he lived on Urashima. Men there were fishermen, mostly, and boys learned that trade from their fathers and grandfathers; but this Tarō was not a fisherman, because he had neither father nor grandfather to teach him. He was an orphan, and a beggar, and sometimes a petty thief — […]
“Crafting Chimera”
They didn’t call John in until the bullets had finished flying, until everyone who was going to surrender had surrendered and everyone who was going to die had died. By that point, of course, Catherine was long gone. This is another piece of mine inspired by a role-playing game, though rather tangentially. I played a […]
“The Memories Rise to Hunt”
They rise each night from stains in the concrete, from shadows in the stone. Earth and grass cannot hold these memories: time passes, the soil changes, the grass grows and dies, and the pain decays from memory, to an echo, to nothing. Concrete and stone do not forget. It’s not visible to anyone other than […]“Silver Necklace, Golden Ring”
“He takes them for his servants, and never after are they seen again.” That was how the tale used to end, told by grannies at the fire, by performers at the fair. This story traveled a very odd path. It started out with me wanting to write a story based on the Russian folktale about […]
“Fate, Hope, Friendship, Foe”
The sign for the exit said FATE in blocky white letters, with an arrow pointing the way to town. The old woman laughed and drove on.
“Two for the Path”
The proverbial “message in a bottle” is supposed to wash up on a seashore. The one I receive comes by river instead — by river and by ally — and both of those are strokes of luck. I don’t recall what made this idea wander into my head, but I know it happened ages ago, […]“This Living Hand”
The tree was right where the old poet said it would be. This was one of the first pieces of Onyx Court short fiction I had a concept for, but it took me over a decade to write. The reason for that was research: I needed to know more about the English Romantic poets, but […]“And Ask No Leave of Thee”
I’m the kind of person who, soon as you tell me not to do something, I do it. Because fuck you, even if you are a friend. And Tia wasn’t that much of a friend. I’ve had a fascination with the Scottish border ballad “Tam Lin” since I was a kid, courtesy of Diana Wynne […]“Chrysalis”
In fire and thunder it was born, vomited up from the guts of the earth in a paroxysm of fury.
“Ghost and Fox”
It was to be expected, the doctor said, after such a close call as yours. He spoke in learned terms of excesses of yin, of meridians and flows, stagnation in the blood that he had put right. The woman they said was your mother listened and nodded and paid him with taels of silver, thanking […]
“Oak Apple Night”
The morning had been fine and bright, but as the afternoon wore on a stiff wind sprung up, bringing with it clouds and a dampness that heralded rain. Joan, looking out the window of Boscobel House, did not want to go outside. “Please, Granfer . . . does it have to be tonight?”