This time, I'm putting up a snippet from Sorrel in Silver, the third volume in Sorrel's saga, still many months from publication and only a quarter written. Sorrel's adoptive town has been attacked by lloruk again. Sorrel is drowning her sorrows afterwards.
The tavern on Lantern Street was more volging comfortable than the Chancelry had ever been, even before it became a smoking ruin. I sat in one of the plush, upholstered chairs in the taproom with a pint tankard of cider, and thought to myself that in this respect, at least, the cascade of fire that had devastated the town's heart had not been such a bad thing. I'd needed five pints of cider to come to that conclusion, I might add.
I looked round the room, noticing that everything seemed brighter and a little fuzzier than it had been half an hour ago. I obviously needed more cider so I wouldn't notice how drunk I was getting.
'Daryan, Zandraal, now Tolgrail' Berindyl snarled. She and I had never been on the best of terms. I thought she was an appalling Guard Commander, and she thought I was an insufferably arrogant outsider.
So we were both good judges of character.
As always, comments welcomed!