Humouress in 2021; putting 2020 in hindsight (thread 1)

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March
✔     19) Mister Monday by Garth Nix (2003)
✔  18) Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz (2000)
✔  17) One Fell Sweep by Ilona Andrews (2016)
✔     16) The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren (2019)
✔     15) Behind the Throne by K.B. Wagers (2016)
✔     14) The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman (2020)
✔  13) Blue Moon Rising by Simon Green (1992)
✔  12) The Politeness of Princes and Other School Stories by P.G. Wodehouse (1912/ 2002)
✔     11) The Flatshare by Beth O'Leary (2019)
✔  10) The Time of Green Magic by Hilary McKay (2020)
✔      9) In a Holidaze by Christina Lauren (2020)

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February


✔     8) Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho (2015)
✔     7) An Assembly Such as This by Pamela Aidan (2003)
✔     6) The Glass Magician by Caroline Stevermer (2020)

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January

✔       5) A Spy in the House by Y.S. Lee
 4) Blood and Iron by Elizabeth Bear (2006)
✔     3) Crystal Soldier by Sharon Lee & Miller (2004)
✔     2) Sweep in Peace by Ilona Andrews (2015)
✔       1) City of Brass by S. Chakraborty (2017)

The smoke flattened and condensed to form a thick map in the sky before her, Suleiman’s temple at the center. As she watched, blazing pinpricks of light spun out from the temple across the world, falling to the ground like meteorites and bouncing back as fully formed people.

“He divided us into six tribes.” Dara pointed at a pale woman weighing jade coins at the eastern edge of the map, China perhaps. “The Tukharistanis.” He gestured south at a bejeweled dancer twirling in the Indian subcontinent. “The Agnivanshi.” A tiny rider burst out of the smoke, galloping across southern Arabia and brandishing a fiery sword. Dara pursed his lips and with a snap of his fingers lopped off its head. “The Geziri.” To the south of Egypt, a golden-eyed scholar tossed a brilliant teal scarf over his shoulder as he scanned a scroll. Dara nodded at him. “The Ayaanle,” he said and then pointed to a fire-haired man mending a boat on the Moroccan coast. “The Sahrayn.”

“What about your people?”

“Our people,” he corrected and gestured toward the flat plains of what looked like Persia to her, or perhaps Afghanistan. “Daevastana,” he said warmly. “The land of the Daevas.”

She frowned. “Your tribe took the original name of the entire daeva race as your own?”

Dara shrugged. “We were in charge.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to cook that,” I said.
“Of course I’m going to cook it.” He waved the head around for emphasis. “Might I remind you that you’re on a limited budget?”
“What if it’s poisonous?” Jack asked.
“Preposterous!” Orro growled. “This is clearly a Morean water drake.”
He tucked the severed head under his arm and walked into the kitchen, dragging the neck across the floor behind him.
“I shall have to make some preparations as well,” George said. He and Jack left the room.
My legs gave out and I collapsed into a chair. Beast leaped into my lap.
Caldenia looked at me across the room. “So much excitement, and the peace talks haven’t even started.”
I groaned and put my hands over my face.

There were few universal principles in this world. That most water-based lifeforms drank tea was one.

There was a real danger, with your Generalist, of feeding them so much info they got lost in their own thoughts, and never came out again.

He’d’ve said prosperous free trader, from the quality of the ‘skins and the fact that she was eating at a subdued place at the high end of mid-range. On the other hand, there was that story and the easy-seeming familiarity with the Rim - and beyond. According to his considerable information, Rimmers had a flexible regard for such concepts as laws, ownership, and what might be called proscribed substances. Not that all Rimmers were necessarily pirates.

And there were the dreams, usually not so loud as to wake him, and behind them the conviction that he could almost smell the water, hear the surf on the beach, recall the dragons hovering over the world-forest, and know their names.
This last was the most perplexing - for he must assume that the dreams and wistful memories were the tree’s, channeled to him by a mechanism he accepted without understanding - and how would the tree know the names of beings who rode the air currents?

... he was left in peace to pursue truth—even if that involved the occasional ingestion of a dubious cabbage leaf.
The caterpillars were a problem, however. Fat, fuzzy and complacent, they sat upon his vegetables in veritable hordes, ignoring him until he addressed one directly.
“Good morning, sir,” he said.
The caterpillar paused the busy movement of its jaws to reply:
“Pleasant weather, this, eh?”

“Amusement, principally. Don‘t you think it‘s time my family shared in my misfortunes, as Christians should? Then, vice is so costly: May dew or none, my brown and tender diamonds don‘t engender, they dissolve. Immoderation, Mariotta, is a thief of money and intestinal joy, but who‘d check it? Not I. Here I am, weeping soft tears of myrrh, to prove it.”

‘Sir James, in painful doubt as to whether this was meant to be humorous or not‘.

Louis, although utterly messy in his appearance, was obsessively tidy in his room. .... Max lived in a great heap of Max junk. He and Louis stuck a line of tape across their bedroom floor, dividing the enormous Max mess from the extreme neatness of Louis. Nothing could stop Louis seeing over the line, though, just as nothing could save Max from having to listen to Louis droning himself to sleep at night, like an out-of-tune mosquito.

“I am not your sister, and don‘t you dare put your disgusting spitty feet on my quilt.”
“All right,” said Louis, and rubbed them on Abi‘s bedside rug instead.
“You are truly disgusting,” said Abi severely, “and you should put those horrible pajamas in the washing basket.”
“What, now?”
“YES NOW!” said Abi.
Louis slid off the bed and disappeared, but came back much too quickly.
“I‘ve done it,” he said cheerfully.

... where a recorder club was tormenting a Christmas carol to shrieking ribbons, ...

Louis, although utterly messy in his appearance, was obsessively tidy in his room. .... Max lived in a great heap of Max junk. He and Louis stuck a line of tape across their bedroom floor, dividing the enormous Max mess from the extreme neatness of Louis. Nothing could stop Louis seeing over the line, though, just as nothing could save Max from having to listen to Louis droning himself to sleep at night, like an out-of-tune mosquito.

“I am not your sister, and don‘t you dare put your disgusting spitty feet on my quilt.”
“All right,” said Louis, and rubbed them on Abi‘s bedside rug instead.
“You are truly disgusting,” said Abi severely, “and you should put those horrible pajamas in the washing basket.”
“What, now?”
“YES NOW!” said Abi.
Louis slid off the bed and disappeared, but came back much too quickly.
“I‘ve done it,” he said cheerfully.

... where a recorder club was tormenting a Christmas carol to shrieking ribbons, ...

Thomas Beauchamp Algernon, was being launched by the combined strength of the family on his public-school career. It was a solemn moment. The landscape was dotted with relatives ...

Dunstable went on to translate. As he had not prepared the lesson and was not an adept at construing unseen, his performance was poor.

After a minute and a half, the form-master wearied.

"Have you looked at this, Dunstable?" he asked.

There was a time-honoured answer to this question.

"Yes, sir," he said.

Public-school ethics do not demand that you should reply truthfully to the spirit of a question. The letter of it is all that requires attention. Dunstable had looked at the lesson. He was looking at it then. Masters should practise exactness of speech.

As has been pointed out before, there was practically one handwriting common to the whole school when it came to writing lines. It resembled the movements of a fly that had fallen into an ink-pot, and subsequently taken a little brisk exercise on a sheet of foolscap by way of restoring the circulation.

"Come here!" shrilled the novelist.

The stranger receded coyly.

Mr. Watson advanced at the double.

His quarry dodged behind a tree.

For five minutes the great man devoted his powerful mind solely to the task of catching his visitor.

The latter, however, proved as elusive as the point of a half-formed epigram, and at the end of the five minutes he was no longer within sight.

'Rupert, you were supposed to bring back the valuable parts of a dead dragon and at least some of his hoard. Haven't you brought back any gold?'
'No,' said Rupert. 'There wasn't any.'
'What about the dragon's hoard?'
'He collected butterflies.'
They all stared at the sleeping dragon. 'Only you, Rupert,' said the Champion quietly. 'Only you ...'
'Haven't you brought back anything of value?' asked the King.
'Just this,' said Rupert, drawing his sword. Everybody studied the gleaming blade warily.
'It has a strong magical aura,' said the Astrologer dubiously. 'What does it do?'
'It summons rainbows,' said Rupert, just a little lamely.
There was a long pause.
'Let's talk about the Darkwood,' said King John.

‘And what criminal wouldn‘t be able to forge an ID document?‘
‘I‘ve got cataracts. You could show me a library card and I‘d let you in.‘
‘They don‘t even check the meter now. It‘s all on the web.‘
‘It‘s on the cloud, dear.')

‘So, we were all witnesses to a murder,‘ says Elizabeth. ‘Which, needless to say, is wonderful.'

They are very careful not to talk about the Tony Curran case. One of the first things you learn at Coopers Chase is that some people can still actually hear.

‘And what criminal wouldn‘t be able to forge an ID document?‘
‘I‘ve got cataracts. You could show me a library card and I‘d let you in.‘
‘They don‘t even check the meter now. It‘s all on the web.‘
‘It‘s on the cloud, dear.'

They are very careful not to talk about the Tony Curran case. One of the first things you learn at Coopers Chase is that some people can still actually hear.

‘So, we were all witnesses to a murder,‘ says Elizabeth. ‘Which, needless to say, is wonderful.'

'I know it's a lot to ask with Arland still recovering, but can you hold the inn for several hours?'
Lord Soren squared his massive shoulders and bared his fangs in a happy grin that would give most people a lifetime of nightmares.

Arland valiantly ignored him. 'I desire a sojourn. A brief respite from the many matters requiring my attention. I do believe I've earned it.'
The russet-haired vampire stepped forward. 'Lord Marshal, your uncle was most specific -'
Arland bared his fangs a little more. 'My uncle is, of course, concerned for my well-being.' ...

...'Yes, my lord,' the russet-haired vampire said, resigned. 'Lord Soren will be delighted.'
Lord Soren popped into my head in all his burly, grim-faced, older vampire glory. 'I didn't know the Knight Sergeant knew the meaning of the word.'
'His grizzled exterior hides a gentle heart.'
Knight Ruin nearly choked on air.

Gary Karkofsky has always wanted to be a supervillain and he finally gets his chance when he gets the magic cloak of late superhero, the Nightwalker. However is he evil ENOUGH to be a bad guy in the worst city in America? Also, what will his wife think? Find out in the first volume of the Supervillainy Saga!

'I love to kill fish,' Sayle went on. But when I saw this specimen of Physalia physalis, I knew I had to capture it and keep it. You see, it reminds me of myself.'
'It's ninety-nine percent water. It has no brain, no guts and no anus.' Alex had dredged up the facts from somewhere and spoken them before he knew what he was doing.

They had tried to destroy the Will, but that proved to be beyond their power. So they broke it, in two ways. It was broken physically, torn apart, with the fragments of heavy parchment scattered across both space and time. It was broken in spirit because not one clause of it had been fulfilled.
If the treacherous Trustees had their way, no clause of the Will would ever be executed. To make sure of this, all seven fragments of the Will had been hidden with great care.
The first and least of the fragments was fused inside a single clear crystal, harder than diamond. Then the crystal was encased in a box of unbreakable glass. The box was locked inside a cage of silver and malachite, and the cage was fixed in place on the surface of a dead sun at the very end of Time.
Around the cage, twelve metal Sentinels stood guard, each taking post upon one of the numbers of a clock face that had been carved with permanent light in the dark matter of the defunct star.