Humouress humming on in 2022

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March

✔     12) Today, Tonight, Tomorrow by Rachel Lynn Solomon (2020)
✔   11) Fireborne by Rosaria Munda (2019)
✔   10) Magician's Gambit by David Eddings (1984)
✔   9) Queen of Sorcery by David Eddings (1984)

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February

✔       8) The Maid by Nita Prose (2022)
✔     7) The Serpent's Shadow by Mercedes Lackey (2001)
✔     6) Irresistible Forces edited by Catherine Asaro (2004)
✔     5) On Salads by Sue Lawrence (1999)
✔       4) You Had Me at Hola by Alexis Daria (2020)
✔   3) A Sword Named Truth by Sherwood Smith (2019)

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January

✔   2) Pawn of Prophecy by David Eddings (1982)
✔     1) The Oathbound by Mercedes Lackey (1988)

The first thing the boy Garion remembered was the kitchen at Faldor’s farm. For all the rest of his life he had a special warm feeling for kitchens and those peculiar sounds and smells that seemed somehow to combine into a bustling seriousness that had to do with love and food and comfort and security and, above all, home.

"Thank you for your permission, Captain," Silk said, inclining his head. "Do you know what the King of Sendaria said then, Garion?" he asked.
"No," Garion said. "What?"
"I pray you, your eminences,' the king said, 'have a care for your finery. I have just well manured the bed in which you are kneeling.'"
Barak, who was sitting nearby, roared with laughter, pounding his knee with one huge hand.
"I find this less than amusing, sir," Captain Brendig said coldly, rising to his feet. "I make no jokes about the King of Drasnia, do I?"
"You're a courteous man, Captain," Silk said mildly, "and a nobleman. I'm merely a poor man trying to make his way in the world.
Brendig looked at him helplessly and then turned and stamped from the room.

"Thank you for your permission, Captain," Silk said, inclining his head. "Do you know what the King of Sendaria said then, Garion?" he asked.
"No," Garion said. "What?"
"I pray you, your eminences,' the king said, 'have a care for your finery. I have just well manured the bed in which you are kneeling.'"
Barak, who was sitting nearby, roared with laughter, pounding his knee with one huge hand.
"I find this less than amusing, sir," Captain Brendig said coldly, rising to his feet. "I make no jokes about the King of Drasnia, do I?"
"You're a courteous man, Captain," Silk said mildly, "and a nobleman. I'm merely a poor man trying to make his way in the world.
Brendig looked at him helplessly and then turned and stamped from the room.

And the idea that she would be the first Sartoran ruler to set foot in a kingdom depicted as full of villains made the fun that much more fun. Hibern had promised her that Senrid wasn't a villain. At least, he was trying not to be one, though he'd been raised to be. All that made him even more interesting.

And the idea that she would be the first Sartoran ruler to set foot in a kingdom depicted as full of villains made the fun that much more fun. Hibern had promised her that Senrid wasn't a villain. At least, he was trying not to be one, though he'd been raised to be. All that made him even more interesting.

Reed-grasses rippled around him, the translucent tubes sparkling like glass but bending easily, supple and soft. Iridescent spheres no larger than his thumb topped many of the stalks and floated off their moorings when he brushed by. The drifting bubbles marked his path through the plains. …
He tilted his head up, letting sunlight bathe his face. Two gold suns hung in a lavender sky, side by side right now, shaped more like eggs than spheres, and speckled with dark spots.

“Talking of hurling cows,” she interjected, “do you still show that film? The grail one. Though I suppose they were hurling cows from inside.”
“Monty Python and the Holy Grail?” Polly said. “Of course. It’s a key work to understanding ancient Earth warfare.”

'... I'll wear my blue gown, and you'll wear the white robe. I insist, father.
'You what? Now listen here, Polgara-'
'Be still, father,' she said absently, examining Garion's blue doublet.
Wolf's face darkened, and his eyes bulged dangerously.
'Was there something else?' she asked with a level gaze.
Mister Wolf let it drop.
'He's as wise as they say he is,' Silk observed.

The lawn in the garden was neatly manicured. There were softly splashing fountains, and the rosebushes were all well-pruned. Fruit trees that seemed to be very old were budding, almost ready to burst into bloom in the warm sun. Sparrows bickered over nesting sites on the twisted limbs. Grinneg and the others followed Morin along a curving marble walk toward the centre of the garden.

On two opposing hills parties of armored knights with bright-colored pennons on their lances watched the battle. Great siege engines lofted boulders into the air to crash down on the struggling men, killing, so far as Garion could tell, friend and foe indiscriminately. The valley was littered with the dead and the dying.
'Stupid, ' Wolf muttered darkly.
'No one I know of has ever accused Arends of brilliance,' Silk observed.

below. Two grim, black castles faced each other across a broad valley, and several villages dotted the plain on either side of the road. The nearest village was in flames, with a great pillar of greasy smoke rising from it to the lead-gray
sky overhead, and serfs armed with seythes and pitchforks were attacking each other with a sort of mindless ferocity on the road itself. Some distance off, pikemen were gathering for a charge, and the air was thick with arrows. On two opposing hills parties
of armored knights with bright-colored pennons on their lances watched the battle. Great siege engines lofted boulders into the air to crash down on the struggling men, killing, so far as Garion could tell, friend and foe indiscriminately. The valley was littered with the dead and the dying.
'Stupid, ' Wolf muttered darkly.
'No one I know of has ever accused Arends of brilliance,' Silk observed.

'... Durnik and Silk and Garion can wear the doublets Fulrach gave them in Sendar: I'll wear my blue gown, and you'll wear the white robe. I insist, father.
'You what? Now listen here, Polgara-'
'Be still, father,' she said absently, examining Garion's blue doublet.
Wolf's face darkened, and his eyes bulged dangerously.
'Was there something else?' she asked with a level gaze.
Mister Wolf let it drop.
'He's as wise as they say he is,' Silk observed.

The lawn in the garden was neatly manicured. There were softly splashing fountains, and the rosebushes were all well-pruned. Fruit trees that seemed to be very old were budding, almost ready to burst into bloom in the warm sun. Sparrows bickered over nesting sites on the twisted limbs. Grinneg and the others followed Morin along a curving marble walk toward the centre of the garden.

The wind tore at them as they rode, and the driving sleet half-blinded them. Garion moved confidently, however. For some reason every rock about them seemed absolutely familiar, though he could not have said why. He rode just fast enough to stay in front of the others. He knew they would ask questions, and he didn’t have any answers. They rounded a shoulder of the peak and rode out onto a broad rock ledge. The ledge curved along the mountainside, disappearing in the swirling sleet ahead.
‘Where art thou taking us, lad?’ Mandorallen shouted to him.
‘It’s not much farther,’ Garion yelled back over his shoulder.
The ledge narrowed as it curved around the looming granite face of the mountain. Where it bent around a jutting cornice, it was hardly more than a footpath. Garion dismounted and led his horse around the cornice. The wind blasted directly into his face as he stepped around the granite outcrop, and he had to put his hand in front of his face to keep the sleet from blinding him. Walking that way, he did not see the door until it was almost within reach of his hands.
The door in the face of the rock was made of iron, black and pitted with rust and age. It was broader than the gate at Faldor’s farm, and the upper edge of it was lost in the swirling sleet.

The wind tore at them as they rode, and the driving sleet half-blinded them. Garion moved confidently, however. For some reason every rock about them seemed absolutely familiar, though he could not have said why. He rode just fast enough to stay in front of the others. He knew they would ask questions, and he didn’t have any answers. They rounded a shoulder of the peak and rode out onto a broad rock ledge. The ledge curved along the mountainside, disappearing in the swirling sleet ahead.
‘Where art thou taking us, lad?’ Mandorallen shouted to him.
‘It’s not much farther,’ Garion yelled back over his shoulder.
The ledge narrowed as it curved around the looming granite face of the mountain. Where it bent around a jutting cornice, it was hardly more than a footpath. Garion dismounted and led his horse around the cornice. The wind blasted directly into his face as he stepped around the granite outcrop, and he had to put his hand in front of his face to keep the sleet from blinding him. Walking that way, he did not see the door until it was almost within reach of his hands.
The door in the face of the rock was made of iron, black and pitted with rust and age. It was broader than the gate at Faldor’s farm, and the upper edge of it was lost in the swirling sleet.

‘I thought Ctuchik was a sorcerer,' Garion said, puzzled. ‘Why do you keep calling him a magician?'
‘It‘s a term of contempt,' Belgarath replied. ‘It‘s considered a deadly insult in our particular society.'