Sneak peek:
Here is the opening scene of The Seven Sages:
SIMON KING COULD ONLY STARE in horror as the terra cotta jug slipped from his arms and shattered against the cobblestone road. He’d tried so hard to earn his uncle’s approval, loading the jugs into the carriage, and a single clumsy moment ruined everything. Sweat dripped down his face. Though spring had yet to arrive, the cool winter morning became uncomfortably warm after exercise. Normally he enjoyed the chance to be of service, but any enjoyment shattered with the jug.
At least the contents didn’t seem to be valuable. Dried wildflowers and fresh leaves scattered in a steady breeze, or lay trapped among the clay shards. They were too crumpled to impress a woman, and they didn’t smell like potpourri or seasonings. Bitter, if anything, with a hint of rotten eggs. Simon had no idea what his uncle wanted with such things.
The mansion door creaked open. Simon froze, then slowly turned around.
Uncle Rico stood framed in the doorway of Jaladi City’s largest mansion, tall and symmetrical with rows of windows passing judgment on the city street below. His red coat was impeccable, fitting for the King family. Through changing politics, wars won and lost, no matter Simon’s personal failings, his family remained on top.
Uncle Rico stepped up to the cart. “I have to deliver these to the castle. Clean up while I’m gone.”
“Of course, Uncle.”
Normally, Simon would ask to go. The crowds would notice how much Uncle Rico and Simon looked alike, though Uncle Rico’s blond hair was starting to turn white. Simon made sure that they wore it to the same length, just above the shoulders. He’d tried to grow a beard to match his uncle’s, but it came out wispy and awkward and at last he’d given up. Still, they looked like a matched set, as though they belonged together.
Uncle Rico climbed into the driver’s seat of the simple wooden cart and took the reins. He gave Simon a small nod, and started off.
With a sigh, Simon began to gather the shards, keeping the sharp edges from his fingers.
The mansion door opened again and the butler stepped out. “Careful, young Simon,” he said. “Let me, or at least wear gloves. Those are poisonous.”
Simon froze. “Poisonous?”
“Yes indeed. Those plants give off deadly gas when burned. The green leaves with them make sure that any fire makes a lot of smoke, and the tight jug will make the fumes spread.”
Simon stared at him. “You’re saying that my uncle made a smoke bomb?”
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