Nano Blogging: First Excerpt

My first excerpt is up on my NaNo profile page. I'm hoping to turn it over fairly quickly this time around. And, I'm also planning to post an extended cut of each passage I put up here. This one is about the first thing I've written and also should be the opening scene of the book. It mostly serves to introduce a few thems as well as an extremely important character - Cassandra, the Ant Queen.

On top of her throne, sucking on the last of her sweets, the Empress was restless. The hour had crept into the night. Her servants were hours gone. Fleeting notes of music and conversation had ceased reverberating around the cavernous hall. The hordes of courtiers and those attempting to court her favor driven away with a wave of her arm.

Now, alone, in a room built for hundreds, she tapped out an uneven rhythm with her slippered feet. Ran her exquisitely lacquered fingernail along the cushioned arm of her Patchwork Throne. Fiddled with a bit of lacy frill. The fabled throne on which the absolute ruler lounged was a well-worn, hand-made affair. Every inch of it covered up by scraps of fabric. Each square lovingly crafted and even more lovingly presented to their liege by the children of the Royal Court. The Empress was well known for her love of children and she had a special place in her heart for the young of those who worked alongside her. They were welcomed within the halls of the labyrinthine palace she called home. And the Empress pampered them shamelessly as they spent their days running along the corridors of power and between the legs of those who ran her Empire in her name. It was a long standing tradition that the children of those who worked at the Court had free access to all but the innermost sanctums. And, so, even the highest officials could be found playing at some game with the youth or being followed around by their sons or daughters and their friends.

It was done for reasons more than to simply warm her heart. The children of ministers of the Court grew alongside those of the workers who cleaned its halls. Youths from every corner of her sprawling territories in every shade and every color, playing together. They learned together. And what they learned, more than anything, was how much alike they really were. And there was no greater symbol of this egalitarianism than her chair of state. The very throne from which she held court and delivered her proclamations was a living artifact of the children that teamed within the halls of her palace and within the borders of her territory. In a time before the staff at the Court numbered in the thousands, it had begun with a few scraps from a few creative children sewn into her comfortable chair. And the tradition had blossomed into a rite of passage for any child brought before the throne. It had even spread beyond the halls of the Court and each days hundreds of patches of fabric and lace stitched together by small hands arrived at the palace from around the Empire. Her original throne, plain and unassuming as a throne could be, had been long since been lost underneath layers of crafted squares in every imaginable multicolored hue.

It had seemed like a good idea so long ago, the Empress thought, but now, it was simply uncomfortable. Perhaps she ought to put an end to it. She'd certainly restricted it to only the children of those who were employed at the Royal Court. Even now, the heartfelt patches from other hopeful children adorned great ribbons of cloth hung throughout the palace in place like tapestries. A constant reminder to those of the Court that there were others beyond its walls who depended on them to provide for their children. A brilliant solution the Empress wished she'd thought of as she shifted uneasily in her seat and tried to remember which of her many clerks she'd delegated the problem to who had come up with the idea. But the name remained stubbornly lost amongst the sea of faces from those who'd served her over her many years.

Too many years, the Empress thought ruefully to herself with a frown. Glad there was no one around to see her sulk. See her shift with unease. She knew it would have sent her servants into a flurry of activity, trying to anticipate her needs. Trying to guess her moods. And she just wasn't in the mood for it that night. There was something in the air. Something about to shift, something about to change, that the Empress couldn't quite put her finger on. A situation that had become all too familiar at her advanced age. Twenty, even five years ago, the Empress would have been directing events. Placing her finger squarely on the scale of fortune and tilting events in her people's favor. The Court would have been a bustling hive of activity as she lived up to her self-assumed title of the Ant Queen.

But age and perhaps, if she were to be honest with herself, success, had dulled her edge. Sated her hunger, the Empress thought, as she entertained a fleeting thought about calling down to the kitchens for a late-evening snack. Perhaps another bowl of those lovely prawns she'd had at dinner glazed with a sweetened sauce and piled on top of aromatic rice. Then, she found another foil wrapped candy hidden within the folds of her dress and the urge passed. Not for the first time, the Empress promised herself that she'd create the largest bounty prize ever to the clever citizen who could come up with an automatic dispenser of a never ending supply of sweets as she placed the chocolate wrapped piece of caramel on her tongue and began to suck on it loudly.

On that throne, rummaging through its cushions for another lost treat, nestled in a familiar rut amongst the bits of costume jewelry and silken lace, was Cassandra. The first of the name and the line. The very same ambitious woman who'd taken the small collection of islands that her mother had begun and forged them into an empire the size and breadth of which the world had never seen before. A relentless, energetic force for progress, for modernization, for innovation. Kept busy but never weighed down by the burden of all to which she tended. Known for the size of her laugh and the ease of her smile. But, for once, on this evening, on the pretext of a headache, she'd sent her attendents away to sit in the heart of her palace. Surrounded by every luxury and distraction in a place constructed to serve her with no end of amusements. Alone with her thoughts. Convinced there was some scrap, some clue, that she was missing.

The Empress swam daily in a sea of information. Those who came to her Court might easily be impressed by many things. From the precious works of art to the architecture as beautiful as it was scrubbed free of place and time its walls. But what most seemed to strike them were the walls. Coated with shells drawn from every shore of a nation that spanned dozens of seas. Gilt by the purest gold. Accented by jewels burning from within with the cleanest fire. Gleaming, sparkling, in a purposefully dim light. And arranged into breathtaking murals and intricate geometric patterns by the finest artisans that money could never buy. A tribute to the wealth and power of the woman at the center of it all. To the gasping visitor, awed by the artfully designed splendor, they were beyond priceless. But the Empress would say that the real value lay behind those walls. In the spaces between wired with the finest, most advanced electronics and circuits. They held the antennae that streamed a torrent of date from across her far-flung Empire into her Court. Controlled by the computers and stacks where that sleeting information was hammering into useful form and brought before the right eyes in the form of reports and briefings and files and more. From this place, the Empire was steered with so many wireless communications that the air was almost thick with the signals.

Only Cassandra knew, only the Empress could know just how dearly all that computronium had realy cost. How many ships of the line had never been built and how many naval battles lost because the funds had been diverted elsewhere. How many citizens beggared because the budget had been mysteriously drained. How the careers of promising young scientists had been ruined, their papers gone unremarked, unnoticed, or behind a veil of secrecy and security, because the Empire had decided to keep those advances from being disseminated. Accounts opened and closed in the blink of an eye as staggering sums of resources were shuffled about in an endless dance. The technology entombed within the Court's very frame was beyond the bleeding edge. The best available. Checked regularly for errors, meticulously maintained, and zealously upgraded as the circuits paths were combed through for the merest hint of tampering. The Empress had grown paranoid with old age and her saftey was of paramount concern. Her mother had told her once, “Hope for the best in people and prepare for the worst.” After a life as filled as much with betrayals as with success, Cassandra had taken it to heart. Not a whiff of treachery, not even a suggestion of disloyalty could be tolerated so close to the Royal personage who had held the Empire together through thick and thin.

Now that, like her waistline, it was more thick than thin, she thought about her Empire. Past the lingering fragrance of good perfume and better wines. To when it had all begun. A time before a throne, a crown, and the weight of the world bore down on her, requiring a mask of perfect calm competence at all times. In that small village of Paolo. The faces of friends and lover long gone. About working tirelessly on her mother's behalf to drag a frightened and reluctant people out of the Stone Age and into the bold, new future they'd forge. Together. Always together.

Cassandra missed her mother. She missed having someone to talk with. Another person who understood the burdens of leadership as only she could. A mind as sharp as her own, able to challenge and drive her to new reserves and the insights they brought.

Was that it? Was the anniversary of her mother's death stalking the halls like a spectre, haunting her thoughts, and making her grasp at shadowy conclusions? Being reminded that she was well and truly gone always put her in a mood. But, no, the Empress realized, it was still months away. Hadn't that young official who's name was embarrassingly slipping away just gone over the plans with her the other day?

This was something else. A instinct honed through year of hard won experience. She knew something was brewing. Somewhere. Something which would soon become her problem to deal with. But what and where and how? How could she respond when she didn't just lack the knowledge of her opponent's move, she didn't even know whom she was playing against in the first place. Was it one of her Empire's many foes? Or some internal threat? Was it a threat at all or merely another opportunity to grab? There were too many angles, too many variables, now, to consider. The Empress was drowning in all the intelligence reports and security recommendations. The opinions of clever girl after clever girl telling her she had to take action against this or that pet menace looming on the uncertain horizon. She needed advise. If she could just lay it out in front of someone else capable of following the threads along, she might just discover what it was that was vexing her so.

There was one person in all the world that the Empress might confide in. But that would mean swallowing her pride. Ending a longstanding contest to see who was more stubborn and more stoic. And if there was one thing the Empress hated it was losing. So, Cassandra sat, trying to marshal her thoughts at the center of an all-too quiet world.