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    Endeavors of Will
    Endeavors of Will
    Endeavors of Will
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Endeavors of Will

    By Sharon Lee

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    About this ebook

    Two decades of fantastic writing.

    Sharon Lee's science fiction and fantasy career began in 1980 and since her first professional sale she's entertained thousands with her carefully crafted fiction. Perhaps best known for the Liaden Universe® stories and novels co-written with Steve Miller, Lee's solo short fiction is also a treat.

    Endeavors of Will features eight early short stories -- including Balrog Award nominee "A Matter of Ceremony" form Amazing Stories -- as well as one of her rare poems.

    The stories here range from out-and-out adventure to subtle mood pieces. They first appeared in such varied magazines as Star Triad, Amazing Stories, Charles de Lint's Dragonfields, and Owlflight, as well as Fantasy Book, the SPWAO Showcase, and Times Lost, Worlds Forgotten.

    If you're in the market for a highly readable and somewhat unpredictable collection of fantasy and science fiction, with subtle humor, irony, and good story sense, Endeavors of Will by Sharon Lee may well be what you're looking for!

    Included in this collection are: Stolen Laughter, The Winter Consort, The Pretender, The Silver Pathway, Stormshelter, The Girl, The Cat and Deviant, A Matter of Ceremony, The Handsome Prince, and the poem Cards.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPinbeam Books
    Release dateJul 23, 2016
    ISBN9781935224785
    Endeavors of Will
    Author

    Sharon Lee

    Sharon Lee has worked with children of various ages and backgrounds, including a preschool, a local city youth bureau, and both junior and senior high youth groups. She has a bachelor’s degree in sociology and also in psychology. Sharon cares about people and wildlife. She has been an advocate in the fight against human trafficking and a help to stray and feral animals in need.

    Read more from Sharon Lee

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      Book preview

      Endeavors of Will - Sharon Lee

      Pinbeam Books

      http://www.pinbeambooks.com

      This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are fiction or are used fictitiously.

      Copyright Page

      Endeavors of Will

      Copyright © 2000, 2011 by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. Please remember that distributing an author's work without permission or payment is theft; and that the authors whose works sell best are those most likely to let us publish more of their works.

      First published in May 2000 by SRM, Publisher.

      Stolen Laughter first published in Dragonfields, Winter 1983

      The Winter Consort first published in SPAWAO Showcase, August 1982

      Stormshelter first published in Worlds Lost, Times Forgotten, March 1981

      The Pretender first published in Owlflight, January 1981

      The Silver Pathway first published in Owlflight, July 1981

      The Girl, The Cat, and Deviant first published in Star Triad, February 1991

      A Matter of Ceremony first published in Amazing Stories, May 1980

      The Handsome Prince first published in Fantasy Book, May 1982

      Cards first published in Amazing Science Fiction Stories, September 1981

      ISBN:

      Kindle: 978-1-935224-78-5

      Epub: 978-1-935224-79-2

      PDF: 978-1-935224-80-8

      Published May 2011 by

      Pinbeam Books

      PO Box 1586

      Waterville ME 04903

      email info@pinbeambooks.com

      Cover design by Steve Miller

      DEDICATION

      Dedicated to:

      John Schuyler Sam Moore

      who valued will above rules

      Stolen Laughter

      THE DUKE WAS being affable. A bad sign, that. He lounged there in his almost-throne, fingers laced over his majestic paunch and smiled. A very bad sign.

      I cleared my throat. The Princess Ariana laughs but rarely, one is told.

      This is true, replied the Duke, still smiling. The value of the item lies in this very rarity.

      So rarely, I insisted, there being nothing to lose by having the offered commission outlined for me crystally, that it is further said that the Moon itself rewards the sound when it comes by filling the black sky that is its sole dominion with dancing miniature replicas of itself. I leaned forward just a bit, kept my eyes tight on his face. Still he smiled. This is the treasure you would have me acquire for you? A thing so poignant that it touches the heart of the icy Moon and is more elusive than Love in its aspect?

      Well, said the Duke, waving a ringed hand for cognac, if you cannot manage the matter, you needn't attempt it. I'm sure that Eirin—

      Eirin! That ten-thumbed bungler! He couldn't steal an egg from beneath a hen!

      And yet he has all of his thumbs, has he not? The Duke savored his brandy with half-closed eyes. I swallowed my anger with some difficulty. The old bastard almost caught me that time. One needed to be cautious.

      Very well, I offered in more conversational tones, I accept the commission, my lord. It will, however, be expensive.

      He eyed me, swirled his drink lightly in the glass.

      I tried again. There are certain—equipments...

      An impatient flash of rings. You will pay whatever expenses you find necessary to incur out of your fee. He paused to savor more liquor. Twenty dinosi.

      Twenty dinosi? The laugh sounded real in my own ears. But you're jesting, of course. It cannot possibly be done for less than two hundred.

      No? Eirin—

      Eirin would demand three—his vanity is o'erbearing. A risk, but not too great.

      Perhaps. We traded stares. One hundred, then.

      One seventy-five.

      Absurd. He tasted more liquor. One hundred twenty-five. I feel exceptionally generous this noon.

      I didn't even breathe deep. One hundred fifty, my lord; and my profit in the matter is minuscule.

      One hundred thirty-five. That is my final offer, scapegallow.

      Not precisely true, and more of an insult for that. I inclined my head, humbly. One hundred thirty-five, my Duke. Then I straightened, gave him my face, my eyes. Plus expenses.

      The goblet crashed into the fireplace at my back. I heard the flames roar and subside as I kept my eyes on his own.

      A curse on you, then! He struggled into as much of a sitting position as his bulk would allow. One hundred fifty dinosi. He fingered the pouch at his belt, tossed three bright coins. The remainder upon delivery.

      I caught them in my three-fingered hand, bowed the deep bow—liege to lord—and withdrew.

      * * *

      DAME AGATHA'S PRICE was seventy-five dinosi, which was quickly haggled, downward, to twenty. It more then covered her expense in the thing and left enough over to sweeten the task. She could not really have expected to receive the sum first named. We'd done business before.

      I worked the bellows as needed through the night, and listened to her prattle and chatter through the events that had transpired since our last association. I nodded and half-dozed, watching the fire and planning my plans.

      Just as the heat of the flames tinged the bottom of her brewpot with blue, she turned to me, bird eyes quick on my face.

      There's no good will come of it, ye know, laddie.

      No telling how much she really knew, beyond the bare facts it had been necessary for me to share to obtain what was needful: A Wise Woman has a bag of tricks to rival any thief's. I kept my face under control. I'd call my pay from Duke Ilych good, certainly; and your own cut is not to be laughed at...

      She interrupted me with a quick motion of her head. Tush and foolishness, Jalan. I've known you too long to be dealt with that way. She bent to judge the blueness of the pot, nodded and straightened, back to me.

      Ye come wantin' a vial that'll hold Moonlight, ye say, with a neck so fashioned that, once captured, nothing will out—not 'til the vial itself is rubble. Fah, laddie! Do I look such a fool? She was facing me again, eyes cutting sharp, accusing me—of what I could not tell. You're out to take it, that lovely, once-a-year sound, that makes the solitary Moon yearn for others like itself to dance with. You! To steal what is a costless gift to all—Ah, Jalan, Jalan. It's too ill for thinking upon.

      "So? And if something is

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