As part of Smashwords' July Summer Sale, A Circus of Brass and Bone will be 75% off through July 12, 2016, and then 25% off through the end of July. This deal is available through Smashwords only. They offer many formats including epub and mobi (for Kindles). (You must USE THE CODE below the buy button to get the discount.)

That means that RIGHT NOW, A Circus of Brass and Bone is available for the low, low price of ONE DOLLAR.

About

It's the end of civilization, but the show must go on. When a traveling circus returns to Boston after a tour in British India, they discover that an aetheric calamity has sent a wave of death rolling across post-Civil War America, killing a third of the population and rendering basic technology dangerously unstable. In such desperate time, what use is a circus?

Reviews

"Read if: You would love to read about circus freaks, espionage, war elephant golems, intrepid female ship captains, monkeys finding true love, and the authentic smells of large cities."

- Heidi Waterhouse, Goodreads

"...the world has a texture and a past that appeals even as it appalls ... The characters have a lot of bad stuff happening to them, but they retain both agency and their moral sense. The darker scenes never devolve into hopelessness or pointless gore."
- Marissa Lingen, Novel Gazing Redux

A Circus of Brass and Bone

It's the grand finale of The Circus of Brass and Bone!

Episode 22

The Final Reckoning

Ginger, the Whitefaced Clown
Port Rumsey, New York

"Don't die, sweetheart," Commissioner Guirard begged. "Please. I'll do anything."

Mrs. Guirard tried to smile, but pain pulled her lips so tight that it was almost a grimace. "Nothing you can do," she gasped. "Not even you. Nothing anybody can do. Sorry."

"There must be something. I can't lose you. Tell me! What should I do?"

The answer revealed itself to Ginger in a flash so bright that he might have been struck by lightning.

Read more.

Note on Availability

Ebook and print editions (including story extras and a bonus novelette!) will be available to purchase before Christmas. As part of the preparations, I will be taking down the online version. Note title change: this will be published as A Circus of Brass and Bone.

Happy Thanksgiving! I hope those of my readers from the U.S. of A. had a good one, filled with family, friends, and food, in whichever order you prefer.

Episode 21

The Killing Ground

Ginger, the Whitefaced Clown

Port Rumsey, New York

Because he was already looking in that direction, Ginger noticed clown-in-training (and probationary ringmaster) Christopher Knall peer around the corner of the fat lady's tent. The tent used to belong to the fat lady and the skeleton man, but now--. Ginger cut off that line of thought.

A moment after Christopher pulled his head back, a beak poked around the edge of the tent.

Ginger grinned so widely that his cheeks hurt from the unaccustomed strain. Training Christopher had been a good use of his time after all. The young man had seized on the same idea that had crossed Ginger's mind earlier, but he had been in the right place to execute it.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four ostriches stampeded away from the circus tents, their feet thudding against the ground, their plumes bouncing, hissing like a sack full of angry cats. As a distraction, it worked. Commissioner Guirard froze mid-signal. The policemen fell silent, their attention arrested. The seamen's weapons sagged along with their jaws. The Sasse family halted their approach and the storklike guard paused in his attempts to arrest them. Everyone stared, from the most battle-scarred sailor right down to Miss Anderson, the Sasse family's sickly cousin. The spectacle seized her attention so firmly that she ignored everything else, including the shining trail of saliva that dribbled down her chin.

Even Lacey lost her focus for a moment, gawking at the ostrich stampede and letting her hand drop slightly. In that moment, Ginger moved.

Read more.

Episode 20

Hostages to Fortune

Isaac, the Animal Handler
Port Rumsey, New York City

"We need Ginger. Right. Right!" Given an order, Isaac's mind began to work. To get to Ginger in time, he needed a fast horse.

He ducked out of the doctor's tent, took a deep breath of fresh air, and walked briskly toward where Lacey kept her horses corralled. He wanted to run, but there were policemen everywhere. More emerged every minute. Years of being a disreputable outsider in every small town the circus passed through had taught Isaac that policemen were like big cats: either running or freezing in place would provoke an attack. The best plan was to keep moving normally.

As he passed one pair of patrolmen, he overheard, "Find the commissioner's wife and get her out of here."

Make that two fast horses he needed, Isaac thought. Ginger and Mrs. Guirard both needed to be here to keep things from going bad, if it wasn't already too late.

Read more

Ginger the Whitefaced Clown
The Sasse Family Zoo, Manhattan

Massive jaws clamped shut around the flailing body. The victim's blood spurted, staining rows of serrated teeth. One gulp and only shreds of silver skin remained.

Mrs. Guirard applauded. "Oh, fabulous! Do it again!"

At the sound of her voice, the alligator jackknifed around to face them. Mrs. Guirard squeaked and seized Papa Sasse's arm.

Papa Sasse grinned. "There, there, little lady." He pulled another flopping fish out of his bucket and tossed it into the alligator pit, with gratifyingly gory results.

So far, the tour of the zoo was a rousing success. Every animal had displayed itself to advantage. Mrs. Guirard had been appropriately charmed, awed, impressed, and shocked. She clutched a lovely fan made from peacock feathers, which Papa Sasse had given her as a souvenir. To his own surprise, Ginger found himself genuinely enjoying the visit. It took effort to keep his mind on the business at hand.

Read more at http://www.circusofbrassandbone.com.

The Price of Chocolate

Ginger, the Whitefaced Clown

New York City

The first gray light of winter's dawn crept through the streets as Ginger walked into the city. It would take him about an hour to reach Hardy's Candy Confections, the candy shop favored by Commissioner Guirard's wife. While he walked, the city came alive around him. Yawning special patrolmen headed home after the night shift, transforming from curfew-enforcing bogeymen into ordinary tired men. Candlelight flickered briefly in the windows of reclaimed houses as their new inhabitants prepared for the day. A scattering of storekeepers opened their doors, lit their lanterns, swept their stoops, and generally faced the new day with a desperate kind of optimism.

When Ginger reached Glorious Green Grocery, a long line snaked away from it even though the grocer hadn't opened yet. Deborah Rowan was among the sleepy-eyed men and women who waited with ration cards in hand.

Ginger stopped and tapped her shoulder. "Deb."

She jumped, surprise widening her eyes and bringing her fully alert. "You!" she said. "The man from the circus!"

He took it as a compliment that his erstwhile guide to the city couldn't remember his name. "Yes. How long will this," he jerked his chin at the line, "take?"

"Grocer opens in less than an hour. I'll be done in two, back hauling stone at the bridge in three. Why? Did you get a ration card? If you're planning on getting food, you won't find a better time for it. Lines are worse later in the day."

"I'm not trying to steal a place in line," Ginger assured her, "just passing by. I saw you and wondered if you'd deliver a message for me. You can buy groceries first; the message will wait two hours, though not much longer."

Episode 15

Hail the Heroes

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Lacey clapped her heels to her mare's flanks, urging the horse to a flat-out gallop. Her breath thundered in her ears as she galloped toward the child trapped on the bridge.

Ahead of her, the girl sharpshooter aimed and fired at the monsters. One jerked its head to the side as its jaw exploded. Lacey could have cheered. Then she saw lumpy flesh crawl over the shattered bone. Within seconds, it was as the beast had never been injured.

Genevieve dismounted and sank to one knee to steady her rifle as she aimed and fired. One of the monsters collapsed to its knees and then pushed itself up and rose again. She was aiming for the joints, Lacey realized. It wouldn't stop them, but it might slow them down long enough.

The little girl huddled against the railing, easy prey for the monsters unless Lacey could get there first. The angles flashed through her mind. The only way to rescue the girl at a gallop would be to perform a modified cossack drag. Lacey needed to circle in front of them and grab the child on the way back.

"I'm coming for the girl!" Lacey shouted, hoping her voice carried over the thunder of hooves. "Don't shoot!"

Genevieve aimed, fired. Reloaded, aimed, fired. Her horse bolted back across the bridge. Genevieve could have fled then, but she didn't. She stayed by the little girl and kept firing as Lacey galloped past them.

"Don't shoot!" Lacey shouted, as she raced between them and the deer-things.

The monsters were so close. Too close.

Read more....

Episode 14
Blood and Bone
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Lacey Miller, The Fabulous Lady Equestrienne Who Defies The Fiery Rings of Death!

In the circus camp on the outskirts of New York City

After an eternity or two, dawn broke over the camp. The alien sounds had died away perhaps an hour earlier. Lacey had remained awake, waiting, but when the camp stirred back to life, there were no cries of fear, no sharp crack of firearms.

Lacey rose to her feet and prepared for the day. Her face was calm--but she tucked the hoof pick into the waistband of her riding skirt before leaving her wagon.*

Cook had a pot of plain corn mush on the boil. They'd run out of sweetener and pork fat weeks ago. Despite this, Lacey's appetite quickened as she sat beside the motley crew of early-rising circus folk: roustabouts, Ginger the clown, the girl sharpshooter, the Indian mahout, and animal handlers (not including the snake charmer, who had no need to rise early to tend to her charges). Lacey was surprised to see the mahout; she wouldn't have expected him to have the discipline to rise early.

She said as much to him, though she discreetly omitted the part about lacking discipline.

"It is being very simple," he said cheerfully. "I am finding the morning to be the best time for the practicing of my asana and pranayama. I am usually eating first thing. I am thinking you are surprised because you are usually being with your horses when I am finishing breakfast."

His asana--he must mean the outlandish contortions he employed. She had of course glimpsed his exertions and averted her eyes, as a lady should. It was hardly an appropriate topic of conversation. She smiled noncommittally and dutifully returned her attention to her bowl of mush, which seemed unlikely to do anything improper or even remotely interesting.

The other circus folk ate quickly and without much conversation, but Lacey noticed that their eyes strayed often to the trees. She wasn't the only one whose sleep had been disturbed.

Genevieve Woodward, the girl sharpshooter, ate with hearty appetite. Her rifle leaned against the fallen log she sat on. When she'd scraped her bowl clean, she returned it to Cook and asked, "Any special requests? I'm going hunting."

"Why, yes!" he responded in kind. "Some nice tender lamb would be lovely."

She nodded. "Squirrel it is."

Genevieve came back to camp rather quickly, before Lacey had even finished her corn mush. Cook bustled forward. "You're back so soon! What did you bring me?"

Silently, the girl tossed a dead animal on the ground in front of her.

Judging by its size and long, tattered ears, it had once been a rabbit, but something had savaged it nearly past the point of identification. Blood and fouler liquids matted the patches of brown fur that clung to the carcass. The rabbit's soft underside had been hollowed out. Its ribcage had splintered. Chunks of meat and segments of intestine dangled from the corpse, leftovers of a very messy meal.

"I can't use what's left of this meat!" Cook protested. "It wasn't butchered properly. The meat's contaminated!"

"I didn't bring it to eat," Genevieve said. "But I ain't going back into the woods."

Read Episode 14

When Rosie Sasse opened up the gate to her family's zoo, Isaac hurried inside. His monkey might have run away from the circus, but Isaac couldn't imagine anything that would keep him from coming back.

At first the reunion was everything Isaac could have hoped for. When he stepped into the clearing holding the monkey pen, his heart was hammering fit to burst. Monkeys of all varieties perched on branches or groomed each other as they sat under the trees. Most of them looked healthy and well-cared-for, though a couple huddled against the fence, pressed as far away from the other monkeys as they could get. Now and then, they twitched spasmodically.

"Papa," Rosie muttered, "they're getting worse."

Read more.

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Really, the post subject line says it all.

I have a month and a week to go until the baby's due date. For statistical accuracy, that's +/- 3 weeks. This is the time when most women just want to be done, because everything becomes awkward, exhausting, difficult, and/or painful. I spend a lot more time than usual in sleeping, eating (6 meals a day takes time!), and feet-up breaks to prevent excess swelling. The rest of the time, I move in slow motion.

No, really! I have two ways of walking--the duck waddle, and the articulated Terminator-in-slow-motion. The Terminator is more comfortable and arguably faster, but requires concentration. Anyway. (Did I mention I'm also more distractable?)

In a day, I seem to be able to put in about 6 hours either doing day job work, writing, or preparing for baby and keep our household from devolving into the chaos that eats all things. Used to be, I'd put in a full day on either day job work or writing, and then spend some time bringing order out of chaos.

I think if I try scaling everything down to part-time, expecting about half as much per day, I may be able to keep up. And scaling back day job hours will allow writing again! And paying bills! And working on that really really long list of to-dos! (My to-do list? Has the following categories: Urgentest To-Do, Urgent Urgent Urgent To-Do, Urgent Urgent To-Do, Urgent To-Do, and Action Needed. It used to just have Urgent To-Do and Action Needed. Oy.)

Practically, what does this mean?

* I'm going to try to cut back on day job hours/day--which is probably doable right up until I get projects with solid deadlines.

* I'm going to be stressed about not having baby stuff and chaos under control. Just don't expect me to be coherent about anything. Stress + baby hormones = unpredictable reactions.

* I may not be socializing much, and if I do, I'll almost certainly punk out early.

* Writing and writing-related things are going to be getting done more slowly (although faster than they have been for the last month, when I tried working full-time hours and then found writing impossible!). I'm still hoping to get Circus of Brass and Bone out about once a month, but specific dates are mirages. For example, this month's episode? Probably going to take another week or so.

So why make a big huge post out of this? Well, this way I might have a chance of remembering....

There's a new Circus of Brass and Bone episode up! In a city under martial law, where would you look to find a monkey who ran away from the circus? Find out in Episode 12: Monkey Business.

Episode 12

Monkey Business

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Isaac the animal trainer

Port Rumsey, New York City

Isaac opened his eyes. It felt like he'd just closed them, but the sky above him was a darkening, cloudless blue and the shadows of the ship's rigging had shifted around him. Why was he lying on his back, anyway? Christopher, the new ringmaster-in-training, sat nearby. Maybe he knew why. Isaac tried to speak, but it came out as a harsh croak.

Christopher jumped. "He's awake!" he called.

A woman's head intruded into Isaac's field of view. She smiled broadly, showing rows of sharpened teeth that a shark would be proud of. "How are you feeling?"

"Gah!" Isaac pushed himself upright and backpedaled away from her. Memory returned. "You shot me!" he accused her. Then, "Hey, why doesn't my arm hurt anymore?"

I've been on vacation for the last week, visiting family and friends. It was wonderful--but not much work got done. Because of this, some things will be delayed.

The next issue of Aswiebe's Market List will be postponed a week, to 5/22/2011.

Likewise, the next episode of The Circus of Brass and Bone will be pushed back a week, to 5/24/2011.

Welcome back to the Circus of Brass and Bone! It's the end of civilization, but the show...must go on.

Episode 11

A Hive of Scum and Villainy

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Isaac the animal trainer

New York City

Isaac stared unhappily at the tall brick buildings. One look at those wrought-iron balconies and fire escapes, and Mr. Ben Doom would be up them and across the roofs. Or he might go to ground in one of the thousands of abandoned apartments. Or he might perch in a tree in one of the parks, maybe sharing limb-space with a dangling corpse. Or--

The city was so big, it could swallow him whole and lick its lips afterward.

"We won't never find him," Isaac lamented. "It's like finding a needle in a haystack--although," he added upon reflection, "monkeys are more active than your average needle."

"I thought you knew where the monkey would go?" asked Christopher.

Isaac set his jaw. "I had to say something. They weren't going to look for him. And it's kinda true, it's just--this is an awfully big city."

"Come on. We've only been looking for a few hours. There must be some sign of what happened to her--er, him."

Isaac stared at Christopher. "What do you mean, 'her'?"

Read more

Welcome back to the Circus of Brass and Bone! It's the end of civilization, but the show...must go on.

Episode 10

What the Watchers Saw

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Christopher Knall*, ringmaster- and clown-in-training

Not too far from New York City

Wind whistled through the branches. If that wind hadn't set the fortune teller's veil to flapping, Christopher wouldn't have seen it. It had been tied around a tree branch a good four feet above head level, and the veil blended with the dark gray of the tree bark.*

His boots crunched across the snow as he searched around the base of the marked tree. A couple of feet away, he found a depression where the snow and leaves looked like they'd been recently disturbed. He knelt in the snow and dug.

He found the fortune teller's eye-shatteringly bright kaftan, her shawls, a number of her rings and necklaces--and nothing else. Huffing with frustration, he straightened and dusted the snow from his knees. A single line of footprints led up to the clothing cache.

None led away.

Episode 9

The Case of the Fortune Teller's Veil, Pt II

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The Loyale Traveling Circus campground, some distance from New York City

Tonya lay rigid in her wagon bunk. She waited to hear the sounds of the camp stirring to life around her. Then and only then would she allow herself to rise, light her lantern, and move about the wagon. She would join the others around the cooking fire. She would eat a hearty breakfast, and not in haste. Then she would walk out into the woods, as a modest woman might when she felt the call of nature.

She would never come back. Last night, she'd overheard enough to initiate Operation White Rabbit. Madame Tonya Wershow*, fortune teller extraordinaire, would cease to exist.

Read more.

New Circus of Brass and Bone! Episode 8: The Peculiar Case of the Fortune Teller's Veil, Part I.

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New York City, Fort Hamilton Stockade

It was autumn in Shenandoah Valley, and the air was thick with the reek of smoke. Second Lieutenant Richard Walters of the Grey Steel Regiment, Fifth Company, stared out over the scorched wasteland. Shenandoah Valley was a rich and fertile jewel before North fought South up and down the length of it. Wherever the Yankees passed, they burned crops and slaughtered farm animals. Without the ability to supplement their food stock, the Confederates' wagon train supplies were nearly exhausted. Walters' whole company was on half-rations and ravenous with it. There was something very bad about that, though he couldn't quite remember what.

He tried to remember what was so bad as his batman* dropped the war harness over his shoulders. His batman tightened the buckles, loaded the tank of bone aether onto his back, strapped the brass contacts into place, opened the valves to precisely the degree recommended, and pressed the activation button. Walters gritted his teeth when he heard the familiar clink of the needle covers sliding back. A dozen wide-gauge steel needles jabbed into him at the contact points, tearing through the scar tissue that formed unnaturally quickly between battles. He breathed. As bone aether began trickling into his system, the pain subsided and strength poured into him.

Stop, Walters tried to say. Wait. Remove the harness. That's an order. His mouth said, "Thank you. Check with the platoon leaders to make sure our boys are ready to go."

Being the journal of an all-too-human writer, reader, and eater of deliciousness

The Price of Chocolate

Episode 15

Hail the Heroes

Episode 12

Monkey Business

Episode 11

A Hive of Scum and Villainy

Episode 10

What the Watchers Saw

Episode 9

The Case of the Fortune Teller's Veil, Pt II

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