About Silk & Steel:
A Queer Speculative Adventure Anthology
There are many ways to be a heroine.
Princess and swordswoman, lawyer and motorcyclist, scholar and barbarian: there are many ways to be a heroine. In this anthology, seventeen authors find new ways to pair one weapon-wielding woman and one whose strengths lie in softer skills.
“Which is more powerful, the warrior or the gentlewoman?” these stories ask. And the answer is inevitably, “Both, working together!”
Herein, you’ll find duels and smugglers, dance battles and danger noodles, and even a new Swordspoint story!
From big names and bold new voices, these stories are fun, clever, and always positive about the power of love.
Ellen Kushner
Aliette de Bodard
Yoon Ha Lee
Neon Yang
...and more!
Silk & Steel:
A Queer Speculative Adventure Anthology
edited by Janine A. Southard
Produced by Jennifer Mace, Janine A. Southard, and Django Wexler
Silk & Steel: A Queer Speculative Adventure Anthology
copyright © 2020 by Janine A. Southard. Each title copyrighted individually by its contributor.
Published November 2020 by Cantina Publishing.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
“The Scholar of the Bamboo Flute” by Aliette de Bodard, © 2020 by Aliette de Bodard
“Margo Lai’s Guide to Dueling Unprepared” by Alison Tam, © 2020 by Alison Tam
“Book and Hammer, Blade and Bone” by Ann LeBlanc, © 2020 by Ann LeBlanc
“Little Birds” by Cara Patterson, © 2020 by Cara Patterson
“Chicago Iron” by Chris Wolfgang, © 2020 by Chris Wolfgang
“The Parnassian Courante” by Claire Bartlett, © 2020 by Claire Bartlett
“Plan Z” by Django Wexler, © 2020 Django Wexler
“The Commander and the Mirage Master’s Mate” by Elaine McIonyn, © 2020 by Elaine McIonyn
“The Epic Fifth Wedding Anniversary of Zaynne the Barbarian and Tikka the Accountant” by Elizabeth Davis, © 2020 by Elizabeth Davis
“The Sweet Tooth of Angwar Bec” by Ellen Kushner, © 2020 by Ellen Kushner
“Elinor Jones vs. the Ruritanian Multiverse” by Freya Marske, © 2020 by Freya Marske
“In the Salt Crypts of Ghiarelle” by Jennifer Mace, © 2020 by Jennifer Mace
“What Finds You in the Deep” by K.A. Doore, © 2020 by K.A. Doore
“Positively Medieval” by Kaitlyn Zivanovich, © 2020 by Kaitlyn Zivanovich
“Princess, Shieldmaiden, Witch, and Wolf” by Neon Yang, © 2020 by Neon Yang
“Danger Noodle” by S.K. Terentiev, © 2020 by S.K. Terentiev
“The City Unbreachable” by Yoon Ha Lee, © 2020 by Yoon Ha Lee
Cover Art by Alexis Moore
Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com
Copy Edited by Adrienne Smith
Interior Art by Kerin Cunningham
ebook ISBN: 978-1-63327-025-1
Print ISBN: 978-1-63327-026-8
ASIN: B088C49VMD
Table of Contents
Editor’s Introduction
by Janine A. Southard
Introduction from the Woman Who Started It All
by Jennifer Mace
Margo Lai’s Guide to Dueling Unprepared
by Alison Tam
Princess, Shieldmaiden, Witch, and Wolf
by Neon Yang
Elinor Jones vs. the Ruritanian Multiverse
by Freya Marske
Plan Z
by Django Wexler
Little Birds
by Cara Patterson
Positively Medieval
by Kaitlyn Zivanovich
Book and Hammer, Blade and Bone
by Ann LeBlanc
What Finds You in the Deep
by K.A. Doore
The Sweet Tooth of Angwar Bec
by Ellen Kushner
Danger Noodle
by S.K. Terentiev
Chicago Iron
by Chris Wolfgang
In the Salt Crypts of Ghiarelle
by Jennifer Mace
The City Unbreachable
by Yoon Ha Lee
The Commander and the Mirage Master’s Mate
by Elaine McIonyn
The Epic Fifth Wedding Anniversary of Zaynne the Barbarian and Tikka the Accountant
by Elizabeth Davis
The Parnassian Courante
by Claire Bartlett
The Scholar of the Bamboo Flute
by Aliette de Bodard
About the Authors
Acknowledgements
Editor’s Introduction
You never know how you’ll get involved with a book project. For me, it was a rare, sunny Seattle day when Django Wexler (an author with a story in this volume and who contributed to another anthology of mine years ago) asked for one of those “brain picking” meetings.
You know the kind—where you’re familiar with something the other person wishes they were an expert in, and after they’ve gotten all your knowledge, they’ll go their own way. Well, I met with Django, who introduced me to Jennifer “Macey” Mace (an author and Hugo-nominated podcaster who also has a story in this volume). He explained that Macey had a brilliant anthology idea and a bunch of authors already signed up, but knew nothing about funding, or editing, or any of those time-consuming production things.
I happily explained all that I could... and then found myself signed up to actually do them all. This wasn’t a “brain pick” so much as a stealth job interview!
Of course, I was thrilled to be involved because Macey’s idea truly was brilliant. It was also another perfect example of how people fall into things. You see, she’d re-posted a beautiful piece of art (by digital artist Al Norton) on Twitter with a wistful caption about how she’d love to read (and write!) a story that matched it.
Other authors jumped on her post like iron filings on a magnet. “I’d write that!”, they chorused. “Please let me be in your anthology!”, they begged.
And the readers, too, emerged, writing about how they wanted to read all these stories. Suddenly, Macey had an anthology on her hands—full of authors, with a built-in audience, and dear to her heart—and no way to move forward.
Well, Macey, I hope I’ve done your vision justice with this volume of stories.
That original image (not reprinted here for obvious legal reasons) had a princess and a swordswoman facing danger. It was full of adventure and romantic potential, and elegantly captured two particular styles of femininity—the high femme and the weapon wielder.
Those styles have been prevalent through cultures and literatures for eons, of course. We can list off the femme archetype easily—princess, courtesan, “squishy” magic user, dainty musician, scholar, fashion editor. For the sword wielder, we quickly think of pirate queens, Amazons, and hiking expedition leaders.
While men traditionally take the warrior roles in media, they’re not the only option, and this iconic artwork only made that clearer. Almost seventy years after the first lesbian pulp novel (Spring Fire, 1952), there’s still space for new adventurous ladies who love other l
adies.
Of course, this being a Django-Janine-Macey project (in alphabetical order, not by greatness), it had to be speculative, as well. Every story here has an element of science fiction or fantasy, in addition to adventure and romance.
Herein you will find a historical wonder tale of magical encounters, a space opera of aliens and wars, a modern quarantine race (you knew there had to be one quarantine story in a 2020 anthology), and everything in between. Our heroines are bodyguards and duelists, scholars and princesses, cis and trans, and exceedingly loveable.
Because when it comes to stories of daring and romance, love—its emotional resonance—really is all you need.
Janine A. Southard
19 June 2020
Seattle, WA
Introduction from the Woman Who Started It All
There are a few familiar ways to be a strong female character in science fiction and fantasy.
You can be a Xena or a Buffy or, more recently, an Arya or a Rey—a warrior who fights evil with laser swords or wooden stakes or daggers. Or you can follow the model of Chrisjen Avasarala, and turn to words, forward planning, and a deadly eye for the intricacies of societal maneuvering to save the day.
But sometimes, you don’t want to choose. Sometimes, as a reader, you want both.
In July 2019, artist Al Norton posted a digital painting of two characters from Ryohgo Narita’s Baccano! light novels. A young lady in military epaulettes holds another girl in a pink gown prisoner, sword placed intimately across her throat. They’re staring into each other’s eyes—one skittish, the other smug. “#wlw” read the caption—women loving women.
It lit a spark.
Now here we are, more than a year later. In many ways, the world is a different place. But as a queer woman, I maintain that there is something vital and triumphant in bringing an anthology like this—one that celebrates the diverse ways to be a strong, queer woman and still fight for what is right—into being.
It is not frivolous to take joy in being queer, in loving who we love. There is no one right way to be strong. In many ways, queer joy is a transgression, even today. Prominent creators think nothing of spouting transphobic views in public; Villanelle and Anne Lister may front popular television series, but mainstream comic book movies such as Wonder Woman still determinedly erase their characters’ canonical bisexuality. Fourteen years after Tara Maclay’s violent death as a queer woman on Buffy, CW’s The 100 merrily killed off its main character’s love interest Lexa shortly after a reconciliation, in an eerie echo of Whedon’s storyline.
The message is hard not to absorb: we are not safe. We, queer women, are at best distractions for the heroine, and at worst... well. At worst, we are the evil that tempts innocent mermaid girls into giving up their legs. We are the corruption.
I refuse to allow that message to take root in my heart. The only way to fight such stories is with more stories—different stories, from different perspectives, showing myriad ways to be women, and incandescent, and triumphant, and alive.
Inside these pages, you will find tales of humor and tales of romance, stories of smugglers and stories of dancers—you will find women wielding swords and magic and books and nothing but the power of their voice.
Above all, we hope to leave you with a joyful celebration that goes beyond the clichés of what it means to be strong while female, and while queer. Stories that allow those who choose not to wield weapons to be just as powerful, just as respected, as those who do.
Sometimes, the grumpy one can be soft for the sunshine one—sometimes, the warrior falls for the gentlewoman. And we think that’s wonderful.
Jennifer Mace
7 August 2020
Seattle, WA
Margo Lai’s Guide to Dueling Unprepared
by Alison Tam
Margo Lai woke to the unpleasant news that she was engaged to fight a wizard’s duel for Miss Philippa Sastrowardoyo’s hand.
Sometime between the hours of eight o’clock and noon, when Margo and all other right-thinking individuals had been asleep, the letter of challenge made its way through the humid streets of Oum and onto the pile of correspondence next to Margo’s breakfast plate, assaulting her with its accusatory gilt script before she could even finish her morning jook. It took a moment for her brain to remember how to read English, too, instead of just Chinese, but once she got the language bit sorted she almost ripped the paper in her dawning horror.
There were three problems with the letter. The first was that she didn’t recognize the name of the man she was supposed to be fighting, and didn’t remember anything about the challenge. The second was that she was not and had never been romantically involved with Miss Sastrowardoyo. The third, and perhaps the most important, was that she was not a wizard.
Margo barely even remembered to sling her sword over her hip as she rushed out of the house, tugging her coat on over her nightgown and clutching the letter in one shaking hand. It was a fine day, and too cursedly bright. The attempt to move into a light jog sent Margo’s insides reeling, and so her long walk to Miss Sastrowardoyo’s house was conducted in a sullen, seething trudge.
She took the spare key from the little hollow in the persimmon tree, stomped right up to Miss Sastrowardoyo’s boudoir, and slammed the door open, brandishing the letter.
“Pippa! Pips! What in the seven depths of hell is this supposed to be?”
There was no response, then a faint groan came from a lump on the settee. Upon closer inspection, Margo realized that the lump was in fact the lady herself, hidden under a tangled mound of blankets.
“Oh, please not so loud, Madge,” said the lump in a thin, reedy voice. There was a damp towel over her eyes, her hand pressed to her forehead in the very picture of elegant distress. Margo ruthlessly snatched the towel away and brandished the letter again with renewed force.
Groaning in protest, the lump opened her eyes. The beauty of Miss Philippa Sastrowardoyo, known to most as Pippa and only to Margo as Pips, was in Margo’s opinion marred only slightly by the grease and grime from the previous night, which had still not been washed from Pippa’s deep brown skin. Even her squinting against the daylight only drew attention to the long sweep of eyelashes against her soot-dark eyes, the endearing little furrow between her brows.
“I’m very angry at you,” Margo said, as much to remind herself as anything else. “I went along with all of your wretched schemes all throughout primary school... And secondary school, and I’ll admit I have been very cooperative so far throughout university, but now you’ve finally gone too far! I’m done with it, Pips! I’m at the very crust-end of my patience! What in the devil’s toes have you gotten me into this time?”
“I think you got yourself into this one, actually,” said Pippa.
Margo felt the blaze of her righteous anger crumble into a very sheepish ash. “Did I?”
“Oh, yes. You shook your sword at this, er... Mr. Frakes, told him you’d face him in any kind of duel he liked, and then when you tried to slap his face with a glove, you sort of...”
Pippa couldn’t speak. She was making little snorting sounds, a hh-hh-hh she barely attempted to muffle, and though she tried to keep her face serene, she couldn’t hide the way the corners of her lips kept twitching upwards.
“It’s not funny,” Margo protested.
“You tripped and f-fell face-first into the duck pond!”
It was too late. Pippa collapsed into giggles, and wherever Pippa went, it was hard for Margo not to follow. She was beginning to see the humor in it, as much as she didn’t want to, the story as Pippa would inevitably tell it unspooling itself in her mind. Pippa would brandish a knife in place of Margo’s sword, relive Margo’s fall into the pond complete with the splash of her tripping into three feet of water and the startled quacks of the ducks.
“Maybe it is a little bit funny,” Margo conceded, “but it won’t be once that Frakes fellow burns me to a crisp with a single snap of his fingers. I could die, Pips. Who’ll grease the
doorsteps of your enemies with you then?”
“Don’t be dramatic, Madge,” said Pippa, brushing her (perfect, luscious, admittedly slightly matted from sleep) hair back from her forehead. “Have you forgotten that your best friend’s father is a legal genius? Papa’s gotten his clients out of worse than a duel. He’ll help us, and this’ll all be nothing more than a funny story we’ll tell over tea next Tuesday.”
* * *
The elder Sastrowardoyo’s laughter was neither as charming nor as infectious as his daughter’s. Margo stood stone-faced in his study as he struggled to his feet, still wheezing with laughter, to give her a hearty slap on the back.
Usually, it was quite nice that Mr. Sastrowardoyo treated Margo very much like one of the family. He was forever telling her stories about the wild world of taxation law and ruffling her hair, and there was always an extra plate set for her at dinnertime, should she choose to drop in. Margo had the run of the house as she pleased, could rifle through the pantry and let herself in through the side door in the dead of night. Today, however, Margo heartily wished that he’d show a little more consideration towards society’s rules of polite communication for those not technically kin.
“Oh, I could help you, Madge, I absolutely could. It would be very easy for me.”
He paused theatrically, his beard waggling on his chin. Pippa refused to take the bait, glaring up at her father with more dignity than could usually be summoned by someone whose breath still smelt like stale wine and last night’s sausage rolls. Margo was not so strong.
“But?”
“But I will not, because I would very much like to see you attempt to fight a wizard. Did you know that Mr. Frakes is one of the most accomplished magicians of our decade?”
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