The big news this time is that I completed the first draft of my new novella, Dreams of Demons. It came in at 36,688 words. Here's a sneak preview of the first chapter.

Inspector Milchak of the Veelar City Police stepped into the anteroom of the Commissioner's office. The place was lit by a pair of magical lanterns—​brighter and more efficient than oil lamps, but they made everyone look pale and unhealthy.

The Commissioner's secretary, a young, enthusiastic man, looked up from a slate and gave Milchak a friendly smile. "Good morning, Sir. There's someone with her, but she said to send you straight in."

That didn't sound good. Milchak's regular meeting with the Commissioner wasn't for another week, so why had she asked to see him? His investigations were going well—​as well as could be expected, in the middle of a war against an enemy that could strike anywhere, at any time. He tried to think of any recent case that might have involved someone important enough to be able to bother the Commissioner, and came up with nothing.

"What sort of mood is she in?" he asked.

The secretary shrugged. "The same as usual, I suppose." He leaned forward. "One thing—​when I brought her tea earlier, she was pacing in front of the window. She only ever does that when she's worried about something."

All that probably meant her worry was about to become Milchak's worry. He walked to the Commissioner's door, then stopped to brush his hair back from his forehead and straighten his jacket. He turned to confirm something he hadn't thought about when he entered. The three clerks who assisted the secretary weren't at their desks. Papers and slates lay on each one, so they had come in today.

The secretary shrugged. "She sent them to lunch just before the visitor arrived. Told them to take their time."

Milchak took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" the Commissioner called.

The Commissioner's office was dominated by a large glazed window that overlooked the Square of the Martyrs. Milchak had heard a rumour that it had cost more than a sergeant's yearly pay. The Commissioner, a thin woman in her fifties, stood in front of the window, gazing down at the traders, minstrels and preachers who thronged it. There were a lot of preachers around these days, mostly from Nuhys and its islands, some even from Asdanund. Something really ought to be done about them.

In one of the visitors' chairs was a young man in civilian clothes, whom Milchak didn't recognise. Milchak smiled at him. He didn't smile back.

The Commissioner turned to Milchak with a shrug and a lopsided smile. He knew that look. She was about to give him an urgent case that was difficult, unpleasant, dangerous, or all three. If he was lucky, she'd assign his current cases to officers who weren't completely incompetent while he worked on this one.

"Inspector Milchak," she said. The use of his rank was a bad sign. "Thank you for coming at such short notice. I've agreed to release you for a... rather unusual case. This is Captain Elamar. He'll brief you." She walked over to the door. To Elamar, she said, "Be gentle with him. He doesn't know anything about it yet. I'll wait outside." She closed the door behind her.

Milchak stared at the door for a moment, then at the newcomer.

"She's not authorised to know most of what I need to tell you. Please—​sit."

Milchak pulled the other visitor's chair out from the desk and slowly lowered himself into it, as though not sure whether it would take his weight.

Elamar took a thin piece of blue metal from an inside pocket of his jacket, about the size of his outstretched palm, and placed it on the desk between himself and Milchak. He tapped each corner, and it glowed where he'd touched it. Blue metal, Milchak knew, meant a magical device. Something in the room changed. Milchak looked around, trying to work out what it was.

"Nobody outside can hear us now," said Elamar, "as long as we don't shout." His voice sounded closer than it had when he first spoke.

That was it. "And we can't hear anything from outside," Milchak said. The noise of the square, muffled by the glass, had stopped. His own voice sounded as though he was outdoors, far from any buildings.

"Exactly. This thing doesn't last long, so I'll have to be brief. Before I begin, I need your word that you won't reveal anything of what I'm about to tell you to anyone, except as authorised by me or one of my superiors."

"What's so secret that you can't tell my superior about it? And why are you willing to tell me and not her?"

The Captain gave an apologetic smile. "Until you give me your word, I can't tell you."

Milchak folded his arms, as if to say he could afford to wait for the man to change his mind.

The Captain glanced at the magical device, as though checking whether it was still working. From what Milchak had heard, such things were tricky to make, but very reliable.

With a raised eyebrow, the Captain said, "I can answer the why you part. You come highly recommended. Not just from her." He nodded towards the door. "The victims in several of your fraud cases. A relative of one. A prosecutor said you made their job too easy, by being so thorough."

Milchak had a fair idea who the prosecutor was. He'd have to quiz her over some strong wine at the New Grey Fox.

The Captain drummed his fingers on the desk near the magical device. Milchak remained silent.

"As for what this is about... I can say it could alter the course of the war."

Milchak hadn't expected that. "The war against the demons?" Thought what other war could he mean?

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"I've had only one encounter with demons, and that... went very badly."

An expression flickered across the Captain's face. Sympathy? "I'm aware of that. This mission won't require you to get anywhere near them."

"How can you guarantee that?"

"Once you give me your word about confidentiality, then I'll tell you."

If nothing else, Elamar had piqued Milchak's professional curiosity. "Very well. You have my word." He held out his hand, and Elamar took it in a firm, cool grip.

"Thank you," said Elamar, letting go of Milchak's hand. "I'm from Army Intelligence, Section Six."

"Should that mean anything to me?"

Elamar grinned. "Probably not. Unlike some other sections, we do officially exist, but if you look us up, all you'll find is what we want you to know."

"I take it that you're here because of what you don't want the public to know."

"Yes. Firstly—​have you ever had a premonition of a demon incursion?"

"Don't you already know that?" Milchak pitied those who did get them. By all accounts, they were the most horrific nightmares. Before the war, a person who was susceptible could think themselves unlucky if they had one a month. Nowadays, the most sensitive people had them several times a week.

"People don't always recognise them for what they are. Not until they've had a few close together."

Milchak shook his head. "No, I haven't."

"Good. It wouldn't wreck our plan if you had, but might make things more complicated. Secondly, have you ever heard of Dar Tekhan Base?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Probably not. It's a long way south from here—​far enough that the snow and ice never melt. When someone has a premonition, they tell their local enumerator. All the enumerators' reports are combined to create predictions of when and where the demons will attack next, so that we can be ready to meet them. Dar Tekhan is where the predictions are created."

"I'd guessed that someone must be doing something with those reports," Milchak said. "Otherwise, what's the point of gathering the information?"

"Quite."

"Why is the base so far away?"

"The Veil is still strong there," said Elamar. "Nobody lived there before we moved in."

"So there's no chance of demons showing up to spoil the party."

"Exactly. We communicate with the base by mirror net, so the distance doesn't really matter. The enumerators send their reports in the morning, and the Army and the Summoners get their predictions that evening."

"The Asdanunders are good for something after all," said Milchak.

Elamar tilted his head, as if to say, Some of my friends are Asdanunders. "I heard they didn't invent it. They just rediscovered something the Elangics invented, thousands of years earlier."

Milchak nodded. "This is very interesting, but where do I come in?"

"Lately, the predictions from Dar Tekhan aren't as accurate as they used to be. We'd like you to go there and find out why."

=======

The book will be on sale later this year. I still need to edit it and design a cover, and possibly think of a better title. As you might recall from last month's newsletter, my critique group thought I'd started the story in the wrong place. This chapter is my attempt at starting in the right place. I hope I've given you enough information that you know what's at stake for Inspector Milchak and his country, and want to read on, but not so much information that you feel overwhelmed or unsure of what's important.

Another big announcement, though it doesn't feel very big, is that I finally thought of a name for the world where all these various stories are set. That only took sixteen years, six books and three short stories. What prompted it was that I got fed up of saying, "This story is set in the same world as the Dragonrider books and The Schemes of Raltarn and Tomaz," especially when I realised I would soon have to add "and Dreams of Demons" to that list. The world is now officially called Jagutath. I've started updating the relevant material on http://www.pembers.net.

Finally, I'm taking part in the annual Smashwords summer/winter sale, which starts on 1st July and runs for the whole month. All my books there are at least 50% off, and some are free. So if there are any you haven't read yet, now (or Wednesday!) is the perfect time to complete your collection. Head to https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi... and start saving!