The Kithseeker
France, 1680
Liara's defense of the Wizard Nagarath has rendered Anisthe incantate--bereft of magick--but even this cannot guarantee her safety. Because the death of her father-in-magick would seal the girl's fate, necessity demands she and her wizard maintain a watchful eye on the war mage, while protecting her from his dark designs.
Anisthe has embarked on a journey across Europe, aided by his half-fey manservant with an agenda all his own. They search for a legendary mirror that contains the world's most powerful magick. Although the stuff of fairytales, the possibility of its existence compels Nagarath and Liara to seek the artifact themselves. Both know that should Anisthe lay claim to that power, Liara would be at his mercy and not even Nagarath could save her.
Thus, the pair find themselves at Versailles, surrounded by agents who ferret out magick users and destroy them. Uncertain who is friend and who is foe, with their rival on their heels, they must discover the mirror before Anisthe releases its evil, or worse, it lays claim to Liara's magick and brings doom upon them all.
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Is this the real
life? Is this just fantasy?
In innocently setting
out to write historical fantasy, I had in mind the ability to spin a fun tale
of magick and pop it into some really neat, real times and places, playing off
the idea that magick and wizards on this order of magnitude and power might, in
fact, be real … history just forgot to note it.
But then there was the
research. Not impossible in this age of interconnectedness and my own librarian
background giving me a little leg up on finding the obscure. But still, an
added hurdle.
What I didn’t
anticipate was how the story would then turn around and find ways to infiltrate
my life. From strange emotional barrages over the symbolic and simplistic, to
funny ways that the knowledge I gained would find a place in my home… writing The
Kithseeker led to some fascinating crossover of magick into my otherwise
practical little life.
Early in a draft, I
had to determine the provenance of a wizard’s wand-- I found myself sobbing
over it. (And thanks to Facebook’s handy little “on this day” reminder, I was
faced with the same heartache a year later.) More seriously, Dvigrad’s fate
really got to me. The real world Dvigrad was suddenly abandoned in the early 17th
century due to plague. The ruins still stand and folks visit them. I believe
that they’ve taken up hosting cultural events amongst the ancient stones,
bringing life and song back to the old town. My own consolation for what
happened in the fictional version of the town came in Kithseeker from
both Nagarath and Liara—each giving their thoughts and hopes to the reader in
their own way. I tried to keep it subtle. Not sure I did. But it made me feel
better to lament and hope and make my peace with things there.
On the flip side…
these wizards have been invading my life! Sure Liara is left-handed so as to
take after yours truly. But peppermint tea? It has become a staple of my
pantry-cum-medicine cabinet. The Croatian part of me already put a fair bit of
stock in simple traditional folk remedies. Research for the series only
furthered that. And then, earlier this summer, I found myself harvesting some
lovely wild mint that I encountered while weeding a far corner of the yard for
the first time (new house, so we’ve been playing the “is this a weed or a
shrub?” game). I transplanted it to an empty piece of ground next to the porch
so that I can keep an eye on it and treat my nose whenever I see fit. Carrying
the stringy little plants across the yard and finding new homes for the
grouping had me chuckling over the scene from Bookminder when Liara
returns from her Pink Trees adventure in the woods. (Note: My wild mint
survived the move and is doing just fine.)
So what’s next for me?
I fear to ask. This summer saw me fashioning a wizard’s staff for a costumed
convention and donning a velvet hooded cape… near the end of the second day I
was leaning on said staff quite heavily and I began to think that magick isn’t
all its cracked up to be or perhaps I am just one poor excuse for a wizard. Or
maybe I just had a very uncomfortable chair for the event. In any event, dear
reader: Follow light. Follow fate. Follow luck.
Author
Bio –
M. K. Wiseman has
degrees in animation/video and library science – both from the University of
Wisconsin-Madison. Today, her office is a clutter of storyboards and
half-catalogued collections of too, too many books. (But, really, is there such
a thing as too many books?) When she’s not mucking about with stories, she’s
off playing brač or lying in a hammock in the backyard of her Cedarburg home
that she shares with her endlessly patient husband.
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