Saturday, August 30, 2014

And Sometimes There's No Dialog

This week I'm going to share a video -  my shiny new book trailer for Magic of the Nile, which just went live yesterday.

Now Magic of the Nile isn't completely off-topic. Here's a short excerpt from the book, where the conversation in a non-action scene is definitely carrying some double meanings. Tyema the High Priestess and Captain Sahure spent the evening attending a festival together and she never told him who she really was. But now he knows. The temple scribe doesn't know any of this and has already tried to defer Sahure from meeting with Tyema until the following day, to preserve the precious schedule. (Petty bureaucrats existed in all ages!)

She caught her breath as Sahure sauntered in, resplendent in his full uniform, the golden falcon badge prominent on the leather straps crossing his broad chest, scarlet cloak swirling around his legs. He was even more handsome than she’d remembered. He bowed, “Good morning to you, my lady.”
            “And to you, captain.” With great effort, she kept a smile from forming on her lips. Unfamiliar heat pulsed in her core and she suppressed the urge to shift her hips in response.
            “I appreciate your seeing me today instead of tomorrow,” he said, staring at her with narrowed eyes.
            Oh, I couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Tyema remained regally seated in her chair with an effort, curling her fingers tight against the desire to touch him. “I’m sure your business is urgent.”
            “Indeed, I’m here at the command of Pharaoh, very pressing affairs.” He raised his eyebrows and gave a sideways glance at the scribe.
            “You may go, Jemkhufu,” she said, following Sahure’s line of sight.
            “But, my lady, what if notes need to be taken?” The scribe was startled, his eyes opening wide and his mouth hanging open. Tyema never met with anyone alone, other than the god Sobek, so she wasn’t surprised by Jemkhufu’s reaction. Swallowing hard, the scribe glared at Sahure while questioning her order for privacy again. “Are you sure you won’t need me?”
            She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”
            The scribe gathered up his tablets, rolls of blank papyrus and sharpened quills in an untidy armful and backed from the room, closing the door. She heard him complaining to the guard about the unscheduled audience interfering with the day as the portal closed.
            Before she could say anything, Sahure was standing in front of her, his arms caging her in the chair. “And I thought Theban ladies played games,” he said. “Imagine my surprise this morning to see that the high priestess of Sobek was none other than my little waif from the previous evening. She whom I thought to be Ema was in reality the legendary and rarely seen Tyema herself.”
            “Waif?” Tyema couldn’t decide whether to be amused or insulted. True the plain dress wasn’t the best garment in her wardrobe but surely it didn’t give such an insignificant impression?
            “Were you laughing at me the entire evening?” His tone was cold. “Did you enjoy your masquerade?”
            She put one hand on his chest, trying to push him away, but under her fingers his body was solid muscle, an unyielding wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t set out to deceive you.”
            He stared at her for a long moment before releasing the chair. He backed up a step. Hands on hips, he asked, “Then why the lie?”

Why indeed? Here's the trailer:

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