rel="nofollow" href="#litres_trial_promo">introduction to The Prologue that Never Was
introduction to Nicholas Sayre and the Creature in the Case
Ihave explored Ancelstierre and the Old Kingdom a little in my novels Sabriel, Lirael and Abhorsen, and in the process I have found out (for that’s often what it feels like, even though I’m the one making it up) quite a lot about these lands, the people and creatures that inhabit them, and their stories.
But there is much, much more that I don’t know about, and will never know about unless I need it for a story. Unlike many fantasy writers, I don’t spend a lot of time working out and recording tons of background detail about the worlds that I make up. What I do is write the story, pausing every now and then to puzzle out the details or information that I need to know to make the story work. Some of that background material will end up in the story, though it might be veiled, mysterious or tangential. Much more will sit in my head or roughly jotted down in my notebooks, until I need it next time or until I connect it with something else.
Every time I re-enter the world of the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre, I find myself stitching together leftover bits and pieces that I already knew about, as well as inventing some more that seem to go with what is already there.
“Nicholas Sayre and the Creature in the Case” was particularly interesting for me to write, because in it I connect various bits and pieces of information about Ancelstierre, rather than the Old Kingdom. As always, the story is the most important thing to me, but this novella also gives a glimpse of the people, customs, government, technology and landscape of Ancelstierre.
Like nearly everything I write, this is a fantasy adventure story, this time with a dash of country-house mystery, a twist of 1920s-style espionage and a humorous little umbrella on the side that may be safely ignored by those who don’t like it (or don’t get it). Some readers may detect the influence of some of the authors outside the fantasy genre (as it is usually defined today) whom I admire, including Dorothy Sayers and P G Wodehouse.
Planned to be a longish short story, “Nicholas Sayre and the Creature in the Case” grew and grew till it became a novella and ended up taking many more months to write than I had anticipated. It started with these notes:
Nicholas and Uncle to country house Full of debs and stupid young men Thing in the Case, eyes follow Nick Autumn haymaking thing gets some of Nick’s blood? refuge in river, thing closes sluice hay fires in a circle it is powerful, but poisoned how far are we from the Wall?
That was the kernel, from which a novella grew over about ten months. I don’t know why I wrote it rather than something else. It wasn’t sold to a publisher, I didn’t have a deadline for it and I had plenty of other things to do. But only a week or so after writing those notes, I sat down and wrote the first three or four pages in one sitting. I kept coming back to it thereafter, caught up (as I often am as both writer and reader) simply by the desire to see what happened next.
Nicholas Sayre and the Creature in the Case
“Iam going back to the Old Kingdom, Uncle,” said Nicholas Sayre. “Whatever Father may have told you. So there is no point in your trying to fix me up with a suitable Sayre job or a suitable Sayre marriage. I am coming with you to what will undoubtedly be a horrendous house party only because it will get me a few hundred miles closer to the Wall.”
Nicholas’s Uncle Edward, more generally known as The Most Honourable Edward Sayre, Chief Minister of Ancelstierre, shut the red-bound letter book he was reading with more emphasis than he intended, as their heavily armoured car lurched over a hump in the road. The sudden clap of the book made the bodyguard in front look round, but the driver kept his eyes on the narrow country lane.
“Have I said anything about a job or a marriage?” Edward enquired, gazing down his long patrician nose at his nineteen-year-old nephew. “Besides, you won’t even get within a mile of the Perimeter without a pass signed by me, let alone across the Wall.”
“I could get a pass from Lewis,” said Nicholas moodily, referring to the newly anointed Hereditary Arbiter. The previous Arbiter, Lewis’s grandfather, had died of a heart attack during Corolini’s attempted coup d’état half a year before.
“No, you couldn’t, and you know it,” said Edward. “Lewis has more sense than to involve himself in any aspect of government other than the ceremonial.”
“Then I’ll have to cross over without a pass,” declared Nicholas angrily, not even trying to hide the frustration that had built up in him over the past six months, during which he’d been forced to stay in Ancelstierre. Most of that time spent wishing he’d left with Lirael and Sam in the immediate aftermath of the Destroyer’s defeat, instead of deciding to recuperate in Ancelstierre. It had been weakness and fear that had driven his decision, combined with a desire to put the terrible past behind him. But he now knew that was impossible. He could not ignore the legacy of his involvement with Hedge and the Destroyer, nor his return to Life at the hands—or paws—of the Disreputable Dog. He had become someone else and he could only find out who that was in the Old Kingdom.
“You would almost certainly be shot if you try to cross illegally,” said Edward. “A fate you would richly deserve. Particularly since you are not giving me the opportunity to help you. I do not know why you or anyone else would want to go to the Old Kingdom—my year on the Perimeter as General Hort’s ADC certainly taught me the place is best avoided. Nor do I wish to annoy your father and hurt your mother, but there are certain circumstances in which I might grant you permission to cross the Perimeter.”
“What! Really?”
“Yes, really. Have I ever taken you or any other of my nephews or nieces to a house party before?”
“Not that I know—”
“Do I usually make a habit of attending parties given by someone like Alastor Dorrance in the middle of nowhere?”
“I suppose not…”
“Then you might exercise your intelligence to wonder why you are here with me now.”
“Gatehouse ahead, sir,” interrupted the bodyguard as the car rounded a sweeping corner and slowed down. “Recognition signal is correct.”
Edward and Nicholas leaned forward to look through the open partition and the windscreen beyond. A few hundred yards in front, a squat stone gatehouse lurked just off the road with its two wooden gates swung back. Two slate-grey Heddon-Hare roadsters were parked, one on either side of the gate, with several mackintosh-clad, weapon-toting men standing around them. One of the men waved a yellow flag in a series of complicated movements that Edward clearly understood and Nicholas presumed meant all was well.
“Proceed!” snapped the Chief Minister. Their car slowed more, the driver
