In Thrall

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Danteel had been Moncreif’s slave over seven years before I came to the Avarice. I was very young then, especially for an officer and a doctor; I think he was thirty-three, but he naturally looked much older. I’m not a storyteller and, to be honest, this really isn’t my story, it’s his. But someone needs to tell it, and for one reason or another, he considered me a friend. I think I have the honor to be the only human he addressed as such. You will enter events when and where I did, that first day of duty under Captain Moncreif, master of the Avarice and much else besides.

Nowadays I seem to find first paragraphs one of the most important parts to a story and I have to say reading this reminded me of historical novels, it isn’t a bad thing by the way, and I just loved it. I wanted to read the whole thing and didn’t care for the length (23 pages #_#) simply because that intro was wonderful!

Lark Erabon stumbled late into the conference room, running his fingers through his recently cropped black hair, straightening the new uniform that didn’t quite fit despite his average build.

I’m not too sure but I think ‘build’ should be ‘built’. Correct me if I’m mistaken.

The other officers in the room looked at him with expressions ranging from pity to scorn. They’re glad it’s not them being fried, Lark thought. They’re glad he’s got a new target.

Maybe it is just me but I can relate to this so I know exactly how Lark feels, good job on that.

Lark’s head swiveled to face the captain, who was looking at him as if Lark were and insect he would like very much to squash.

‘and’ = an

Moncreif inclined his head to indicate that Lark should follow. Scrambling out of his chair, Lark followed.

This is just a suggestion but you might not want to edit this part. I thought ‘follow’ and ‘followed’ were just a little repetitious especially as each ended the two sentences. You could have something like ‘Lark did so,’ or ‘Lark obeyed the silent command,’?

He cleared his throat. “[s]Ahem. [/s]So, what’s your name?”

I think the ‘Ahem’ is unnecessary as you already have Lark clearing his throat.

Per haps he didn’t speak Basic.

^^^ ‘Per haps’ shouldn’t have a space between it

Lark came.

‘came’ seems out of place here, wouldn’t it be ‘went’ as he is going from his room to another location?

His disgust translated easily in to anger, and he turned to his captain. “You bastard.”

‘in to’ = into

He pressed dozens of med-patches against his back to stoop the bleeding, and succeeded at last.

‘stoop’ = stop

When he was finally done, he was also(?) covered in blood, but Danteel was breathing normally.

^^^ See quote

Danteel lay on his stomach, his black eyes watching as Lark emerged from the ‘fresher, clean of blood and wearing a dressing gown.

What is this ‘fresher’? After reading a couple of times over I thought it was something like a shower room, etc. If that’s the case the apostrophe should look like a 9: ’

The creature’s pink eyes glowed red in the darkness, and its wicked little yellow teeth just missed the Nagai’s thin white fingers.

Here is something I’ve always wondered about: does the colour of a creature/animal eye really show up in the dark? Unless it is like a cat’s then I don’t think it will. If it is more than just a white rat you can find on Earth then I’m sure it would be different, you might want to give a little detail so it isn’t confused with a normal rat, but if it is the same then I don’t suppose a rat’s eyes shine in the dark.

The combined effect of those eyes was to force Danteel to stand against his will.

I was a little confused here. Was Danteel sitting and the two slightly varying colours were supposed to make him stand or did they make him stand?

He still had to look up slightly to look the man in the face.

Its icky reading ‘look’ twice (and icky is a horrible word but I couldn’t describe it in any other way). Perhaps change the second ‘look’ to ‘stare’? Or something else?

*

Firstly: That was brilliant, as I have said before, and it was the beginning that really did it for me.

Secondly: I think you tend to repeat a few things like Danteel’s ‘black eyes’. You could not describe them as ‘black’ and just use his eyes or his stares, etc.

Thirdly: Danteel didn’t seem to like Mon (can I call Moncreif that?) from the start, it is as if he can tell what a person is like from their appearance or whatever ( he also knew Lark was the sort who would help him out).

Lastly: You may notice I didn’t really give much of a review, I’ll be doing that later as I want to get to know the other characters and this world you have set up. One thing I noticed was the lack of description of the conference room, it didn’t really feel as if they were on a ship. If I didn’t know the Avarice was a ship I would have thought they were on a military base or Mon’s house somewhere.

Someone might have mentioned this (I haven't read anyone elses critiques) but you might want to have page breaks as it was confusing to know what was happening when.

That’s it for now. I’ll get on to it later tonight or tomorrow.

-- Myth

*bows* Myth, darling, you have the sharpest eyes I know--thank you for deinging to turn them on me! Your catches have been saved to a very safe place, and shall be mulled over and integrated soon. *bows again*

You're always welcome and here is more.

*

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Eventually they came to a pair of perfectly ordinary sliding doors which led into an anything-but-ordinary ante room.

‘ante room’ = anteroom

He felt blood beneath his nails, his own blood, but he was oblivious to all but the cold, solid metal of the collar.

Since the collar is made of metal and the parts put together are still emitting heat then it wouldn’t be ‘cold’, it is still hot enough to maybe give him a slight burn.

And then he released him and Danteel fell, landing hard on his knees. His hand began to move once more towards the collar but one of the soldiers raised his rifle and Danteel’s hand stopped mid-motion. “You’ll get used to it,” said Moncreif, wiping his hands on his trousers as if he had touched something vile. “At least, you’d better.”

[Here is where your scene changes]

Danteel set out the platters of food on the table as Moncreif watched him, reclining against one wall with his arms crossed. The Nagai could still feel the burn from having the ends of the collar welded together, but he ignored it. “No,” Moncreif corrected as Danteel placed the silverware carelessly, “fork on the right.”

The trouble with this was the lack of a page break, I copied the whole thing off and I was reading about Danteel receiving his collar and suddenly he is somewhere else and it was a bit of a shock, only because I had thought the two scenes were one. So use page breaks. By the way this is much better than the previous entry I managed to see from DD’s critique

His blood pounded, and he felt his eyes start to blaze silver.

I don’t think I understand the part where it says ‘blaze silver’. As Danteel has black eyes you could compare it to something dark, like burning coal or something (I don’t know how I came up with that terrible example), anyway you get the idea, unless I misunderstood the meaning of ‘blaze silver’.

But he took a deep breath, dropped his gaze, and corrected the silverware.

Well, after reading this I was thinking the silverware was being reflected in his eye or he could not take his eyes off the silver, am I along the right lines? (Help?)

And again everything within him roared at the word, screaming Kill, kill, kill the sheczkall, the enslaver.

Perhaps you should have the parts in italics in quotation marks?

He watched them, officers in the Navy of the Realm all, tucking into the food and clenched his hands into fists.

That second comma is out of place or maybe the ‘all’ should be moved before ‘officers’: He watched them, all officers in the Navy of the Realm, tucking into the food and clenched his hands into fists / He watched them, officers in the Navy of the Realm, all tucking into the food and clenched his hands into fists.

Before he could get the curse out, however, he was grabbed roughly by the two guards that had been standing at either side of the door.

My Word and I don’t get along and so it won’t accept the last parts of your sentences and, after reading your edition and Word’s, I think I quite agree with this suggestion: ... however, the two guards that had been standing at either side of the door grabbed him roughly.

Or you can always spite Word by finding a much better sentence

Danteel folded in, groaning slightly. “Turn him around, keep him down,” commanded Moncreif as he carefully rolled up his sleeves. He tossed a few coins to the blonde man. “Less than five minutes, Daxon, you win this bet.”

The man, Daxon, scooped up the coins as the guards forced Danteel’s back to Moncreif and shoved him to his knees. “May a man make a second wager on the same subject?” asked Daxon calmly.

“What did you have in mind?” asked Moncreif as he cracked his whip experimentally.

“This is his first flogging, yes? I say he screams after ten lashes.”

Moncreif snorted. “Twelve, at least. This one’s stubborn.”

“They’re all stubborn at the beginning,” said one of the others, the comment eliciting chuckles from around the room. “I say only five; he’s thin as a skeleton and twice as frail.”

Oh dear, poor Danteel. To this point he has been so defiant and tough, even the burn from his collar was like a nasty ‘surprise’ than pain and here I just know something horrible is going to take place. Those bloody rascals! What makes it even worse is the fact that Danteel can hear them and, perhaps, see these cruel men who are out to win money over a flogging.

Most of the rest of the room placed bets on how long Danteel would hold out, the highest wager going to fifteen lashes from someone with a voice he didn’t recognize.

Maybe begin the sentence with ‘By now...’ and continue from there?

As the soldiers calmly ripped his thin white shirt away, leaving his thin white back exposed, he said coolly, “May the subject of the wager place a bet?”

Usually I’d be telling you not to be repetitious but here it seems to work, however, if you feel like changing it that’s up to you. This is the first time I haven’t ranted about repetition. I think

He felt the blood from his tongue spray out with the expulsion of air, but—thanks the stars—no sound.

‘thanks’ = thank

“Get it out of here,” he commanded, and the stone-like hands [s]again[/s] grabbed him again and lifted him up(?).

^^^ See quote

Danteel surged forward, his hands going for his master’s throat.

I didn’t like the ‘his master’s’ in there, it appears as if Danteel has accepted Moncreif as his master, if I was a slave I know I would call him/her by his/her name when referring to him/her but I’d never bring myself to call him/her master/mistress. So, you can make that ‘the captain’s throat’, that way it makes Danteel still rebellious to the whole master/slave situation.

*

Hello again, Gry!

Swish crack! Fourteen. Nearly there, he was nearly there.

“All I can say for sure is that I know you and I are bound to each other, our fates tied together until death.”

Then let me be that death! screamed Danteel in his mind. False friend, traitor, Krieve!

Again and again and again the whip came down, and somehow Danteel did not cry out. With every lash he felt the freezing hate inside him grow, not the fire-red rage towards Moncreif, but a far harder, far more enduring vendetta. Vengeance.

Swish crack! Twenty. The arms released him and he dropped, making no effort to stop his fall and hitting the metal floor hard. He could hear Moncreif’s labored breathing above him, and could imagine his master, forehead shiny with sweat, glaring at him.

For me the best part that I liked was this section of the whipping scene, not because it was cruel but the fact that Danteel was blocking the pain with his thoughts and memories of a certain character and it is as though he doesn’t realise the he is being flogged, you count from fourteen to twenty, time passing quickly without Danteel becoming conscious of it. That’s my opinion of it anyway. And the other thing is you didn’t make him some pathetic loser who mopped around needing sympathy—something Sam said about one of my characters—and this makes him, say, brave (would that be the right word to use?)

I thought I recognised thi scene, it was from your Born of the Stars (which I have yet to finish reading).

I’ll continue the critique with the final review of my thoughts/impressions on characters and such.

-- Myth

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Mattira let out a soft cry and threw up her free arm to ward of the light.

‘of’ = off

His face was, if possible, thinner than ever before, the cheekbones jutting out and the eye hollows sunken, so that his already-haunting black eyes were now positively wraith-like. The black hair that he had allowed to grow long had been drastically trimmed. It no longer brushed his neck, but was now close-cut, molded around his head. His back-sweeping, pointed ears were clearly visible, white as pearl against the inky black of his hair.

The repetition of ‘black’ was a little unnecessary, you can replace the first with ‘dark’ and, perhaps, take out the second.

At first, when the urgent shaking awoke Danteel, for a moment he didn’t know where he was. For a moment, he thought it was Krieve pulling him from sleep, but then gray eyes became green ones before his vision and he erupted out of bed.

I think it odd to have ‘At first’ and ‘for a moment’ in the same sentence stringed together. Reading this, the part of ‘for a moment’ doesn’t connect with ‘at first’ so you ought to take ‘for a moment’ out and keep the repeated version for the start of the next sentence.

“Who’s here?” the Nagai snarled, suppressing the desire to shout. This man ruled all his waking moments, but he now invade Danteel’s sleep as well?

‘invade’ = invades/invavded?

Danteel had never seen his master to agitated.

‘to’ = so?

Danteel came and inclined his head slightly towards the man, as if to hear him better.

‘came’ = went

*

1) Character

Lark – The reader only gets a glimpse of Lark, he introduces the story with his first day on Avarice and already through him we can see that the captain, Moncreif, is most probably a cruel, hard man from the way he stares at Lark. I’m not too sure whether I like Lark or not, sure he pities Danteel but there was something about him that was not right, maybe because there is not too much on his background but that’s my opinion—which may change later on if Lark happens to re-emerge.

Danteel – Everyone feels sorry for this guy, and I in turn do so too. As I said in the previous entry about his character strength I really don’t have much else to say at this moment. Am I correct in remembering you stated (somewhere) that he is a ‘villain’? If so, then I am curious as to how it goes for him.

Mon – Ugh, the baddie. But I don’t know, I can’t explain why I find myself more interested in him than any of the other characters. It isn’t just because he is the ‘evil master’ but because he doesn’t appear to have any emotions apart from hate and anger. Even as he beats Danteel, I got the impression he was not satisfied, as if nothing could ever please him. A seriously messed up guy, he really needs his head check.

Mattira – I think it was DD who described her as ‘broken’ and I agree. I was also unclear of what to think about her, like Lark, possibly because she was in two different characters with Danteel and the blonde woman (can’t remember the name) and when she was before Mon and Danteel. She is gentle—she helps to ease Danteel’s pain even though it would, and maybe did, get her in trouble. She vaguely gives an idea of how different her punishment is just by her dress and the scars on her shoulder.

Jonahn and Alita – I had thought Jonahn would be an ally of Danteel. Boy, was I wrong. He spites Moncreif with his false voice, the way he teases the captain and his reaction to Danteel. It was from the moment he spoke of the Nagai that I knew he wasn’t in any way going to be kind and his action, grabbing Danteel’s collar, proved this further. Alita was also another person who surprised me—I had thought she too was a sort of slave (it was the part where it said: “Danteel stiffened. He had heard that tone before, that quiet not of subservient fear.”). Maybe she isn’t in league with Jonahn but has to follow his orders and the song threw me off, reminded me of hypnosis.

2) Dialogue

I’ve completely forgotten what I was going to say, I was thinking through In Thrall early this morning and was going to mention something. It’ll come back to me but in the meanwhile I thought Mon’s shorter conversations were, well, mystifying. Sometimes it appeared as though he would like to say something else but didn’t, maybe because he doesn’t want to reveal anything about himself, or he only strikes a longer conversation when he has something important, perhaps to himself, to say.

I think it was Mon and Danteel’s first meeting that always plays in my mind, I really liked how natural Mon was at that point.

3) Description

As I said before, try not to describe Danteel’s eyes so much. You generally use description for characters, there isn’t much on their surroundings so many times it was as if there were a bunch of people in weird spaces who came and went like actors on stage. Although the characters move about the places around them don’t, I mentioned previously about how their surroundings just were not jumping out. Take time to give it a little more thought, just a few details on the layout of colour scheme: Are the halls wide and whitewashed, narrow and dimly lit, or do some vary depending on what part of the ship they are in? Are some rooms rounded, how does a person enter if it is locked or do slaves have no privacy?

These are just a few questions, they may not all apply for you but some of them might.

I hope that was of some help, my mind is wondering off to my own work so I’ll leave you to mull over my critique and thoughts.

-- Myth

Myth: *bows, bows bows* Again, imensely helpful, darling!!! Not sure what else to say besides that--thank you so much! I will do my best to work these in over the weekend, I hope on Monday you will find the whole thing quite improved. One question, though (Imp mentioned this to) how do I do "page breaks"?

When Danteel woke up, he was lying on his side, and there was something dabbing at the back of his head. For a moment he couldn’t remember, and then the throbbing pain in his skull caught up with him, and he jerked upright. Dazzling lights exploded before his eyes and the pain elevated from a throb to an agony. He lay down again, very carefully.

He was in his cell, his face towards the bulkhead. Cautiously, without turning around, he identified his attendant, “Mattira?”

A light touch on his shoulder and he shifted, bringing her face into view. She was smiling, the expression bright as a nova and twice as warm. “Hello there,” she said.

Danteel’s brain felt heavy, unable to function. “What…?” he faltered. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Enough of the Nagai’s ragged thoughts came together to form a complete sentence. “I was…in the quarters with Jonahn and that girl. She was…singing, and then, I think he came around behind and hit me.”

Mattira covered her smiling mouth with a hand. “Moncreif is furious.”

Danteel blinked. “But my back doesn’t hurt.” He paused, considered. “At least, no more than usual.”

At this Mattira laughed out loud. The sound stunned Danteel; it carried none of the emptiness he had seen in her, none of the pain her life now held. “Not at you!” she said, still smiling. “At the Governor.”

For a moment, her fading giggles were the only sounds to be heard. Then, as if probing the edge of a quicksand pit, he said, “Why?”

“It’s his biggest rule,” she explained. “No one so much as touches his slaves without his express permission. No matter what.”

Danteel processed this in silence for a moment. “What did he do, then?”

“Oh, I wasn’t there,” Mattira clarified quickly. “I just know he’s angry because, well, I saw his face when he brought you in.”

“He brought me back?” the Nagai demanded, stunned. “Personally?”

Mattira nodded. “He carried you in his arms; you looked so lifeless that for a moment I was afraid you were dead.”

Danteel felt a shiver crawl across his flesh, and he wasn’t sure if it was revulsion or gratitude. “Where is his now?”

“On duty,” she said.

“And we…”

“He didn’t leave any instructions. Oh, except that you’re to go fetch dinner tonight from Gassil, she’s supposed to have it ready. Apparently he’s dining with the guests tonight.”

“When?”

“He said at 1900 hours.”

Slowly, mindful of his aching head, he rose. “What time is it?” he asked.

“About 1705,” she said. “You slept for a long time.”

Why was she singing? One of the few things he remembered clearly was Alita, standing between him and Jonahn, singing, as if her voice alone could stop him. “Do you know what ‘Weavers’ might mean to humans?” he asked Mattira.

She shrugged. “I’ve heard it a few times. Word Weaver, Song Weaver, Mind Weaver, things like that. I don’t really know what they mean.”

Mind Weavers. Jonahn had called himself a “Word Weaver,” and if Alita was any kind at all, it was Song. But Mind Weavers… “What are we to do until dinner, then?” he asked.

Again, Mattira shrugged, “Just don’t leave.” Danteel had never seen her without either Moncreif or the threat of him nearby. And it crashed on him, suddenly, that she couldn’t be much older than sixteen.

And he found, much to his disgust and horror, that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself until 1900.

He strode out of his cell, into the main space of Moncreif’s quarters—the office that connected to the anteroom one came in by. He glanced around the spartan room—Moncreif had not so much as a picture or memento of home on any of the shelves—and sat, deliberately, in his master’s leather desk chair. Mattira, who had followed him, puzzled, gasped. “What are you doing?” she demanded, horrified.

Danteel kicked the exquisite wood desk with his booted feet, sending the chair spinning. “Being impertinent,” he said. He pressed his always-sore back against the well-made leather, the pain flowing almost sweetly over him. Abruptly he stopped his spin, and opened the top drawer of the desk. “Paper,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know the Realm used it anymore.”

“Most don’t,” said Mattira, practically vibrating with tension as she closed the door to Danteel’s cell and came towards him. “Now, please, close the drawer and get up. If he sees you…” Her voice faded. She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

For a moment, Danteel focused his entire attention on the girl. “I will not have him, or fear of him, rule my every moment, Mattira. Nor should you.”

She dropped her eyes, didn’t answer.

Danteel sighed. He leaned forward and placed one hand gently over her scarred arm. She didn’t flinch, so he said softly, “You can’t let him win.”

“Too late,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Never,” he hissed, his hand tightening on her arm. She winced and pulled back. He let her go. “I’m sorry.”

Mattira didn’t respond.

Danteel drew out a clean white sheet of paper and rummaged around until he found an old-fashioned pen. It was beautiful, made of flawless steel shaped like an ancient feather quill. “Shall I write your name in Nagian?” he asked kindly.

She shifted closer. “I suppose so.”

Danteel molded his thin fingers around the pen meant for a larger hand. How long had it been since he had written this way, ink to paper, thought to form? Mentally, he translated the letters of Mattira’s name into the characters of his language, and wrote. She leaned over his shoulder. “It looks more like a painting than a word,” she said.

“I’m writing in the old language,” he said. “None but the nobility learns or uses it anymore; it never was very practical. There.” He lifted the pen and set it carefully aside. He had written the name large enough to take up the whole center of the sheet and Mattira was right, it did look more like and abstract painting than anything.

“Your name is lucky,” he told her as she studied the drying ink with fascination.

“It is?”

“Yes. See, where these two characters touch to form the ‘ra’ sound?” He pointed. “That shape is shorthand for ‘favorable beauty,’ ‘resst akharam’ in Nagian, you see?”

She touched the characters he indicated, almost as if she were afraid the marks would vanish. “May I keep it?”

He smiled for the first time in weeks. “Of course.”

She smiled as well, and again the expression was full of light. “What about your name? Would you write it for me?”

Danteel’s smile turned bitter. “You can see it right here,” he said, and touched the ruby-ringed disc in the center of his collar. There his name was spelled in perfect Old Nagian, the lines depicted in flawless jet.

Mattira’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry.”

He managed to force his smile out of bitterness. “Nothing to apologize for,” he told her.

The girl brushed a hand lightly over the word, and she lifted the paper as gently as if it would crumble. “Thank you,” she breathed.

I gave you the running commentary of this in the chat, but I'll put the more salient points down here. ^_^ Overall, this was a great chapter (of course, why do I even bother to say it anymore?).

A few minor points to make with the wording:

Gyrfalcon wrote: Danteel’s brain felt heavy, as if stuffed with unprocessed cotton. “What…?” he faltered. “What happened?”

The comparison seemed a bit forced. I take it Danteel doesn't know, exactly, how it feels to have a brain stuffed with unprocessed cotton. ^_~ Nor does the reader, for that matter, so he/she can't exactly identify with his feelings. I would advise finding a different way of writing this.

Here:

Mattira hid her dazzling smile behind a delicate hand. “Moncreif is furious.”

It seems, here, with Mattira, that you're trying a bit too hard, beauty-wise. ^_~ It seems to me that the way her character is written... she's of a very subtle and unapparent (inner) beauty. Her looks creep up on the reader and grow on them suddenly, they don't think about it all at once, but when asked to describe her, they see someone beautiful. This is a little too much here, at once: the delicate hand, the dazzling smile. You don't want to puch her on the reader, physically. ^_^

I love her interactions with Danteel. This is the first time we've seen her happy, laughing - I really liked Mattira in this chapter. She's so human and just... so sweet. You're doing exceedingly well with her. I love the scene in the office, when he's writing her name. It flows so naturally, it pulled me right along. Beautiful, Gyr.

The girl brushed a hand lightly over the word, and she lifted the paper as gently as if it would crumble. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re welcome.

The ending you have been better without that last "You're welcome". It seems so formal in what has been an unguarded, rather personal scene. I would still keep Danteel's action in there, just get rid of the last dialogue. Maybe he nods to her instead? Maybe he smiles? The undercurrents in this scene are just so pronounced and deep, the formal "You're welcome" throws it off.

Loved it. ^_^ I don't know why you worry so much about this, Gyr, you've really got it nailed right on. *hugs*

*bows* thanks again, my lady. I shall integrate this into the main draft, along with Myth's comments, and will try to have everything finished by tonight

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

He had written the name large enough to take up the whole center of the sheet and Mattira was right, it did look more like and abstract painting than anything.

‘and’ = an

I am amazed, I have nothing to critique expect for that typo! Anyway, this scene, although short, is bringing out Mattira’s character. I agree with DD’s points, I really should get on more so I’ll be able to post first XD, she laughs for the first time and it seemed something impossible for one who had suffered for how long, I don’t know.

I especially loved the writing and how Danteel wouldn’t write his as it was on his collar like a dog-tag.

*

Now I’ll try to answer what you asked in your PM.

The combined effect of those eyes was to force Danteel to stand against his will.

My comment: I was a little confused here. Was Danteel sitting and the two slightly varying colours were supposed to make him stand or did they make him stand?

His blood pounded, and he felt his eyes start to blaze silver.

My comment: I don’t think I understand the part where it says ‘blaze silver’. As Danteel has black eyes you could compare it to something dark, like burning coal or something (I don’t know how I came up with that terrible example), anyway you get the idea, unless I misunderstood the meaning of ‘blaze silver’.

But he took a deep breath, dropped his gaze, and corrected the silverware.

My comment: Well, after reading this I was thinking the silverware was being reflected in his eye or he could not take his eyes off the silver, am I along the right lines? (Help?)

Gry: About the Danteel's eyes thing, in the section with Lark I mention him (Lark) getting really freaked out because, when Danteel was angry, a blaze of silver color rose from the center of his solid black eyes. If I didn't describe that well enough, do you have any suggestions about improving it?

'blaze silver' -- I was thinking you were trying to describe asort of fire in Dantee;'s eye because of his anger, so I believed 'silver' was the wrong colour to use since Danteel's eyes were black. Do you follow so far? My next comment was in regard of the silverware, I had thought the silverware was reflected in his eyes which was what the 'blaze silver' meant.

I think, to clear it up, you could have Lark watching him and describing what he saw, something like: A strange silver light passed over the Nagai's / Danteel's eyes and, for a moment, Lark was stunned and stared closely at Danteel.

That way the reader sees it from Lark's point of view, by the way, was he present during that scene? I checked my saved version and Lark isn't mentioned in the scene because this must be from Danteel's past, when the doctor had not come on board the ship.

The combined effect of those eyes was to force Danteel to stand against his will -- I am still unsure what was supposed to happen here. We got the image of Danteel sitting on the floor because a rat had perched there. And when Moncreif came in, Danteel didn't stand. But you described his eyes, both shades of green, and I think you were trying to say the sight of them forced and/or made Danteel notice something about this strange man and he stood.

I think my brain has overloaded now, hope it made sense now. But I can try to think of a few suggestions for the above sentence when I have more time.

-- Myth

Ahhhhhhhhhh, makes much more sense now, thank you darling. I shall do what I can to make everything more clear. Yes, when he's angry, Danteel's black eyes start to show a pinprik of silver light in the center, and then the silver grows until it's something like a blaze-shaped pupil in the center of his eye. I'll do my best to put it in more understandable terms.

Things make a lot more sense when Myth's brain overloads. I look forward to reading more.

Gassil was less than pleased to see him. “Yeah, I have the order,” she all but snapped as he stood waiting in the kitchens. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get fresh fruit these days? I was planning on saving these, but no, we must have the pastries just so, mustn’t we?”

“I’m not the one who ordered them,” said Danteel, as civilly as he could.

The cook finished stacking the covered trays. “So, what has he done to you?”

“What?”

“The Governor. Don’t be like that, the whole ship knows.”

The Nagai shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing yet,” Gassil corrected. “Moncreif or no Moncreif, Jonahn will have his slice of revenge. Probably out of your back.”

“Thank you for that.”

Gassil shrugged. “Just thought you should be warned.”

“Indeed.” Carefully, Danteel lifted the heavy silver trays in his thin arms. The heat of the bottom one was so intense it nearly burned him, but he had learned to ignore pain.

Gassil’s eyes, as blue and sharp as her brother’s, evaluated him with something like respect. “You’re stronger than you look,” she said.

And frailer, thought Danteel as he strained under the weight of his load. What my people make up for in strength we loose in endurance. I’ll wager Moncreif can’t wait to see how many lashes it takes to kill a Nagai. Aloud, he said, “Thank you,” and left the kitchens.

As he started to walk to wards the turbolift at the end of the corridor, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, assuming it was Gassil, and nearly dropped the trays when he saw Alita standing before him. She wore a white satin dress of simple cut that looked pale red in the low light of the corridor. Her brown hair was pulled back into a flowing ponytail. For a moment, Danteel just stared. He had never imagined that a human woman could be so beautiful.

“Those look heavy,” the apprentice said, stepping forward. “Let me help you.” Before the Nagai could protest, she had lifted the top two trays and began heading for the turbolift.

He hurried after her. “No,” he said, when he caught up. “You shouldn’t be here, what are you doing?”

Alita smiled. “Am I not free to walk where I wish?”

Danteel had little patience for being toyed with. He stepped out in front of her, blocking her path. “You may be,” he said, “but I’m not. If you want to help, give me back those trays and never tell Jonahn of this.”

Her smile faded. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

Alita shifted her weight, wouldn’t look at him.

“I said, ‘why?’” Danteel repeated, his voice gone cold. “Never met a slave before? Wanted to ask what it feels like to know you don’t so much as own the blood in your veins? Is that what you’re here for—research?”

The girl looked up at him, her face hard. “Yes, but not the kind you mean. I need to know how you resisted my Song.”

“Your what?”

“Last night, when you attacked the Governor, I Sang at you, don’t you remember? How did you block it?”

“Give me back those trays, child, I’m in no mood for games.” He took a threatening step forward. She took two steps back. “Not until you tell me.”

“I would love to,” he snarled, “if I had any idea what it is you’re talking about.”

“I’m a Song Weaver!” she shouted. “My voice has the power to manipulate better men than you, and not just men but objects, even water and fire. Tell me how you blocked my Song!”

“I didn’t know that humans still believed in magic, little girl.”

“It’s not magic,” she said, gritting her teeth. “It’s based on principles you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Then how can you expect me to explain?”

Alita’s face softened. For the first time, she seemed uncertain. “You really don’t know?”

“I’ve been saying that, haven’t I?” Danteel more tired than angry from the encounter. “Now, will you please give me back those trays. I’d like to avoid a flogging, if that’s still possible.”

Alita shook her head. “It’s my fault you’re late, I might as well help carry them now that I have them.”

The Nagai shrugged. “Fine, come along then.”

She followed, almost meekly. “Would he…” her voice faltered, and she was once again the nervous girl he had first seen in the docking bay. “That is, Moncreif…would he really…really beat you, just for being late?”

Danteel thought about it. “Depends on how late I am, what for, my excuse, and most of all, my attitude when I do arrive. Failing any one of those…yes.”

Alita shivered as the turbolift doors closed and they began to rise. “That’s horrible,” she whispered.

The Nagai turned to face her. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Not many would.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you said you didn’t come for that kind of research,” he said, a little harsher than he had mean to.

She flinched. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, the turbolift rose in silence. “You were wrong back there,” she said quietly, “you’re not the first slave I’ve met. A lot of the courtiers and politicians back on LN own an alien or two. It’s just they always seem to treat them so well, almost like…”

“Like pets,” Danteel finished for her. “Yes, I’ve seen. Almost makes me prefer Moncreif’s way.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Can’t I?” The turbolift doors opened onto the level of Moncreif’s apartments. Danteel stepped out, Alita followed.

“Wouldn’t you rather be well-treated and well-fed?” Wouldn’t you rather not be flogged?”

“You think those men don’t beat their slaves?” Danteel demanded as they walked.

“Well, I guess so,” she admitted. “But if—”

They had reached the outer doors of Moncreif’s suite, and the hiss as they slid open cut Alita off. “Now is not the time for this,” Danteel said as they moved towards the carved doors at the end of the anteroom. “Perhaps later we may talk, but for now—” this time it was Danteel who was cut off by the opening doors. Moncreif stood on the other side, smiling that small, terrible smile the Nagai knew and despised.

“I thought I heard you,” he said as he stepped aside to allow Danteel entrance. The Nagai took one step into his master’s quarters, and froze as he caught sight of Jonahn, reclining easily at the table that had been set up in the middle of the room.

“So good to see you again, slave,” said the Governor, his false voice straining under the weight of his hatred. “And Alita with you, this is a surprise, my girl.”

Alita, standing just behind Danteel, seemed even more shocked by the man’s presence. “Sir,” she stammered, “I didn’t…I mean, I thought…”

“And helping him with his load as well, how very…generous of you,” said Jonahn, his small eyes flashing.

“Danteel.” Moncreif’s voice shifted the Nagai’s attention back to the captain. “Take the trays—all the trays—into the back and get them ready to serve. Do it now.” There seemed more warning than threat in the words, and so Danteel obeyed without comment. He took the trays gently from Alita’s grasp and slipped back into the tiny kitchenette.

“Have a seat, Alita,” came Jonahn’s voice from the next room. Danteel heard the apprentice move to comply. He un-stacked and uncovered the trays, inhaling the fragrant steam that rose from the warmer ones. “Now,” said the Governor once the scraping of chairs had died down, “Moncreif.”

“Yes?” said the captain, making no attempt to hide his irritation. Danteel located the first course, a crisp green salad scattered with exotic vegetables, and slowly arranged the three bowls on the tray, straining to hear.

“The slave must be punished, you have to see that. Assault on a human, never mind a government official, would mean death for any alien on Locus Nova.”

“And we are not on Locus Nova,” said Moncreif smoothly. “In fact, we left orbit about three hours ago.”

Jonahn seemed startled. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Because I assumed you were capable of looking out a viewport,” returned the captain. “Danteel, the first course.”

The Nagai jerked into action, lifting the tray and pushing against the swing-door with a shoulder. The three of them were seated around a circular table that took up most of the room. Danteel set out the salads and made as if to retire back to the kitchenette. “No,” said Moncreif, the word stopping Danteel in his tracks. “This is your fate being decided, you should say.”

Jonahn was aghast. “Moncreif, how do you dare!”

“He is my property, sir,” said the captain calmly. “What I do with my property is my choice.”

Jonahn just barely managed to keep control of his façade. “Well, of course,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“You were saying,” prompted Moncreif.

“Yes, yes,” said the Governor. “You have to see the scum must be punished, and human court would give him the death sentence. But…” A smile more terrible than even the captain’s spread across his face. “I propose a trade. I will drop all charges against your slave, if, in return, you give me your mistress, Mattira, for the night.”

The captain rose faster than an explosive going off. “Never!” he roared, his sudden action scattering his salad across the table.

“It’s a generous proposal,” said the governor, sounding rather miffed. Danteel was using every ounce of willpower he had to hold back his body from committing murder. His entire being vibrated with the effort, and he could feel his anger blazing out as a silver glow in his eyes.

“Think about it,” the Governor said, “it’s not like I want to keep her forever. Just one night, and she’s yours again. And there will be no trouble over your Nagai, no reports, no charges, no worries. It is a very generous offer.”

“Why?” demanded Moncreif. “Why this?”

The Governor shrugged. “That is not your concern. I promise to return her in the morning no worse for wear. But I want her tonight, Moncreif.”

“Why?” the captain hissed again.

Again, Jonahn shrugged.

“No.” All eyes turned to Danteel, standing just in front of the swing door. “No. Leave her alone. Take whatever vengeance you like on me, whatever torture you can devise, I will endure it. But leave her alone.”

Jonahn laughed. “You’re very eloquent, for a slave,” he said, chuckling. “Why risk your life to save the honor of a woman who’s a whore already?”

Danteel lunged at him, his muscles acting before his mind could intervene. Before he had taken a second step, however, his way was blocked by Moncreif. The captain grabbed Danteel’s wrists and twisted, rubbing against skin already made raw by chains. The Nagai hissed in pain and tried to pull back, but his master had him in a grip stronger than iron. “You will not interfere.” He spoke in Nagian, but the promise of pain was as solid as his grip. “All you’re doing is making it worse.”

“Don’t let him,” Danteel was pleading, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let him.

“I have no choice.”

Danteel gave a grim smile. “I thought that was my job.”

“Swear to me you won’t attack him again.”

The Nagai was silent.

Moncreif twisted harder. “Swear to me.”

Again, Danteel’s breath came in a sharp hiss. “I will not attack him again…tonight.”

The captain released him. “Good enough.” He turned to Jonahn. “I accept.”

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

As he started to walk to wards the turbolift at the end of the corridor, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘to wards’ = towards

She wore a white satin dress of simple cut that looked pale red in the low light of the corridor.

It is odd to have red lighting in the kitchen area, and I think it would most probably be pinkish as red and white together, I’m remembering one of my own dresses here, would make her dress a little pink coloured. But I don’t see how the dress would be ‘pale red’ in the low light, is the corridor painted red or are the bulb (or whatever lighting they use) red in colour, which would bring you back to the beginning of my paragraph. And now I’m confusing myself #_#

“Last night, when you attacked the Governor, I Sang at you, don’t you remember? How did you block it?”

Wouldn’t that be: “I Sang to you...”

“Give me back those trays, child, I’m in no mood for games.” He took a threatening step forward. She took two steps back. “Not until you tell me.”

^^^ Separate this by a paragraph, this is both the characters speaking but it seems as if it was Danteel who spoke.

“Have a seat, Alita,” came Jonahn’s voice from the next room. Danteel heard the apprentice move to comply. He un-stacked and uncovered the trays, inhaling the fragrant steam that rose from the warmer ones. “Now,” said the Governor once the scraping of chairs had died down, “Moncreif.”

“Yes?” said the captain, making no attempt to hide his irritation. Danteel located the first course, a crisp green salad scattered with exotic vegetables, and slowly arranged the three bowls on the tray, straining to hear.

“The slave must be punished, you have to see that. Assault on a human, never mind a government official, would mean death for any alien on Locus Nova.”

“And we are not on Locus Nova,” said Moncreif smoothly. “In fact, we left orbit about three hours ago.”

Jonahn seemed startled. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Because I assumed you were capable of looking out a viewport,” returned the captain.

I never thought I’d actually see Moncreif trying to evade punishment on Danteel XD

“No,” said Moncreif, the word stopping Danteel in his tracks. “This is your fate being decided, you should say.”

‘say’ = stay? Or “... you should have a say...”

His entire being vibrated with the effort, and he could feel his anger blazing out as a silver glow in his eyes.

This is an improved way of stating how one could tell when Danteel was really angry.

*

Oh, the horror! I feel so sorry for Mattira, that awful man!

I think it strange that Moncreif would sacrifice Mattira, even though he happens to be cruel himself, and it seems that he treasures Danteel more than his ‘mistress’.

And I guess I was right about Alita, she does appear to be caring and I’m waiting to see what she thinks of Jonahn and the proposal of his keeping Mattira for a while. She didn’t interfere with the goings-on but you probably already have something go to with her next scene.

-- Myth

......

WOW.....

I can't think of anything else to say

... And again I read through everything that gyrfalcon wrote... Too fast, too fast!

-elein