I sat down last night resigned to scratching out maybe a page worth of story, so imagine my surprise when I got rolling and ended up with 900 words--just short of my increasingly rarely-met nightly goal of 1,000. I stayed up somewhat later than usual in doing so, but I'm not hurting as badly this morning as I expected. And guess what? Jachym's finally in Rokanyky!

Ctibor turned them onto an avenue so wide it had a medium lined with winter-bare trees running down the middle. A band of two clarinets, a violin and bagpipes performed a whirling, bouncing tune on the edge of a park filled with naked trees and still-green bushes. A handful of people had gathered to watch, and passers by tossed coins into the upturned hat on the grass.

Jachym turned around to watch them as they passed. He'd never seen a band like that before. But then again, he'd seen more people in the past hour than he had in the entirety of his life up to that point.

"Nevermind that lot. They're just scroungers. Lucky they even know which end to blow into. Where you're going, you'll be seeing real musicians soon enough," Ctibor said. "Turn around now, I want you to see this. You being desert-bred, this ought to be quite a sight for you."

The coach crossed onto a bridge as wide as the avenue. Trees continued to grow in the medium. Flanking the bridge on either side was a low, arched wall of gold-veined ivory marble. Upon this wall, evenly spaced, were elaborate sculptures of dozens upon dozens of women, each one double life size.

"This is the Nádherny Bridge, the largest in Rokanyky--and Rokanyky's got plenty of bridges to choose from," Ctibor said. "We're passing over the Trpytit se Jezero. Glitters like that year 'round, as long as the clouds hold back. The falls over the dam at the far end that are pretty impressive, too. You can get a good view of them from the barge docks."

"What--who--are the statues?" Jachym asked. One woman stood proudly, holding a staff tipped with a znak above her head. Another, leaning on a crutch and missing her right leg, reached out to children gathered about her.

"Those, young Jáhen, are the likenesses of every Mysl that ever was. There's 154 of them, if you care to count," Ctibor said. "The opposite side has statues of the Krev. There's 162 of those."

I also managed to work on that short story rewrite for a good bit last night as well, before I picked up Wetsilver. The rewrite's is something of a challenge, because the climactic scene must be dramatically rethought. I'm having to make some tough decisions with it, so my fingers are crossed that they'll be the correct ones.

32,000 / 90,000 (35.6%)

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