So! Amazon has let the paper edition of Fortune’s Favors out into the wild early. If you order it today, you can have it in your hands, it says here, on Wednesday.
The electronic editions will be released on April 15; I cannot undo this, so Waiting Is.
Below is a revised list of buy-links and! for the very most patient among us, a snippet from the chapbook.
BUY LINKS for fortune’s favors
Available NOW: paper edition, from Amazon only: here’s your link
If you want to preorder the ebook edition of Fortune’s Favors, the following vendors are alleged to be standing by for you:
Amazon: here’s your link
Angus & Robertson: here’s your link
Apple: here’s your link
BN/Nook: here’s your link
Kobo: here’s your link
snippet from fortune’s favors
©2019 Sharon Lee and Steve miller
It was to the gayn’Urlez Hell in lower Low Port that his feet finally brought him, over the objections of most of himself.
There were those who dismissed Low Port as a miserable pit of vicious humanity where lived predators and prey; the roles subject to reversal without notice.
Those contended that there was nothing of value in Low Port; that it was worth the life of any honorable person to even attempt to walk such streets.
They. . .were not wrong, those who lived in the comfort of Mid Port and the luxury of High; and who bothered to give Low Port half a thought down the course of a Standard Year.
They were not wrong.
But they lacked discrimination.
It was true that there were very many bad and dangerous streets inside the uneasy boundaries of Low Port, and then –
There were worse.
The gayn’Urlez Gaming Hell occupied the corner of two such thoroughfares, and the best that could be said of them is that they were. . .somewhat less unsafe than the Hell itself.
Mar Tyn eys’Ornstahl had made it a policy – insofar as he was able to make policy – not to enter gayn’Urlez, much less work there.
Today, his feet had trampled policy, and Mar Tyn only hoped that he would survive the experience.
So anxious was he for that outcome, in fact, that he took the extreme action of. . .arguing. . .with his feet.
On the very corner, directly across from the most dangerous Hell in Low Port, Mar Tyn – turned to the right.
His feet hesitated, then strode out promptly enough, even turning right at the next corner, with no prompting from him, toward the somewhat safer streets where he was at least known.
Another might have assumed victory, just there, but Mar Tyn had lived with his feet for many years. It thus came as no surprise when they failed to take his direction at the next corner, bearing left, rather than right, until they stopped once more across the street from Hell.
He sighed. That was how it was going to be, was it?
Best to get on with it, then.
The barkeep was a thick woman with cropped grey hair and a prosthetic eye. She gave him a glance as he approached and leaned her elbows on the bar.
“Got reg’lars on tonight,” she told him, pleasant enough. “Two days down there’s a bed open, if you want to reserve in advance. Reservation includes a drink tonight and a hour to study the layout. The House takes six.”
Mar Tyn smiled at her over the bar.
“I’m not a pleasure-worker,” he said, gently.
“What are you, then?”
. . .here endeth the snippet