CELTICLADY'S REVIEWS: Earthrise Her Instruments Book 1 by M.C.A. Hogarth Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #HerInstruments @MCAHogarth

Dive into a universe of friendly aliens, glamorous space

elves, insane pirates... and the gutsy human merchant

who's just trying to hold it all together...

Earthrise

Her Instruments Book 1

by M.C.A. Hogarth

Genre

Science Fiction Adventure, Space Opera

"The thrills are nonstop, the alien cultures and races are well developed and fascinating, and there’s just the right amount of humor to keep the whole thing fizzing." — Analog Science Fiction and Fact

Reese Eddings has enough to do keeping her rattletrap merchant vessel, the TMS Earthrise, profitable enough to feed herself and her crew. So when a mysterious benefactor from her past shows up demanding she rescue a man from slavers, her first reaction is to run for the hills. Unfortunately, she did promise to repay the loan. But she didn't think it would involve tangling with pirates over a space elf prince...

Book 1 of the Her Instruments trilogy is a rollicking adventure set in the expansive Pelted universe, and kicks off an epic space opera series where the fate of worlds hangs in the balance. Fans who enjoyed Firefly or Andromeda will like this series

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Rose Point

Her Instruments Book 2

Reese is only just getting used to running the Earthrise in the black—and with an Eldritch in her crew—when a trip to a colony world gives rise to a whole new problem: Hirianthial is showing powers that even the Eldritch rarely have, and that only in legend. He badly needs training, support and advice, and the only place he can find them is... at home.

To see the world of the Eldritch is a once in a lifetime opportunity, a thing of fantasies and rumor. And to finally meet the Eldritch Queen, the author of so many of Reese's windfalls! You'd have to twist her arm to get her to admit it, but Reese can't wait to go. But a court out of fantasy and a breathtaking land aren't enough compensation when they come packaged with a rabidly xenophobic species whose world is falling apart. The last thing they want any part of is some mortal interloper.

Is Reese ready for the Eldritch world? Better to ask: are they ready for her?

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Laisrathera

Her Instruments Book 3

The Queen of the Eldritch has offered Reese Eddings a life out of a fairy tale, one beyond the imagination of a poor girl from Mars who’d expected to spend her life eking out a living with a rattletrap merchant vessel. Unfortunately, the day Reese reached out to accept Liolesa’s offer, Hirianthial’s enemies betrayed him--and his entire planet--to a race of sociopathic shapeshifters with dreams of conquest. Now the only thing between Reese and a castle of her very own is a maniacal alien despot, his native quisling and all the Eldritch dead-set on preventing the incursion of aliens at any cost, including the ousting of their current usurper, who happens to be an alien himself...

Reese, Hirianthial and the crew of the Earthrise have been battling these pirates since Hirianthial’s capture inspired their fateful meeting, but to beat them Reese will have to own the power she’s always denied herself, and Hirianthial must make peace with his bloody past and uncertain future.

The stakes have never been higher, and this last time will count for all. The final battlefield awaits.

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A Rose Point Holiday

Her Instruments Book 4

With the Eldritch civil war over, a castle to renovate, and a wedding to prepare for, the last thing Reese is thinking about is taking a break. But the new year is coming and the Eldritch take their holidays very seriously, so Reese decides it can’t hurt to observe the local proprieties. Who knows? Maybe it’ll make good practice for what Felith is calling the wedding of the century. Of course, that was before Reese realized it was going to involve gifts. And decorating. And a town full of recalcitrant Eldritch tenants who have no reason to trust her...

"A Rose Point Holiday" is a short, pastoral novel set during the last days before Reese becomes Theresa Laisrathera Eddings, lady of Rose Point Castle and the surrounding lands of Firilith. The Eldritch have never seen a holiday quite like this one

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“We’re doing what?” Irine exclaimed, striped hands twitching on the mess hall table.

Reese leaned back against her chair, letting her silence speak for her. As she expected, Bryer, the Phoenix, had nothing to say; the giant birdlike creature rested against the front of the chair, straddling it so as to give the full length of his metallic plumage unrestricted space.

Kis’eh’t, while obviously perturbed, did nothing beyond wrinkle her dark, furry brow and lay back her feathered ears. She had more limbs than all of them: two black arms, four black and white legs, and two stunted leathery wings protruding from her second, horizontal back. And a tail, black with two white stripes running down it, which currently flicked against the cool floor.

The round ball of fluff on the table between the Phoenix and the Glaseahn only ruffled part of its neural fur, turning from ivory to rosy peach in places.

Irine, in her socks and little else, was pouting. “So what... we have to ride in like champions and rescue some random spy? For nothing?”

“Not for nothing,” Reese said. “In return for the money that this person gave me to save me from bankruptcy before you people came aboard.”

“Who is this person, anyway?” Sascha asked.

“Which one?” Reese asked. “The spy or the one with the money?”

“Both,” Sascha said.

Reese smothered a small grin. “The spy’s an Eldritch.”

“A what!”

That came from so many places at once she couldn’t tell which of them said it first. Kis’eh’t got the first words after: “I hear they can start fires with their minds.”

“And read your thoughts,” Irine said.

Kis’eh’t said, “And sense your feelings. They always know when you’re lying.”

“That’s the last thing we need,” Irine muttered.

“I hear they bathe in honey,” Sascha said.

Reese stared at him. So did everyone else with eyes—even Bryer. The tigraine shrugged. “Something to do with keeping their skin white.”

“Honey won’t bleach skin,” Kis’eh’t said. “Moisturize it, maybe. But bleach? Not unless Eldritch honey is actually some other substance entirely...”

“What do I know about Eldritch honey?” Sascha said. “They’re supposedly all rich, too. And they’re all princes or princesses. And they all require servants, because none of them know how to take care of themselves.”

Irine shook her head.“Is this guy in for a slap from the universe!”

“He’s in jail,” Reese said dryly. “I think the slap’s been delivered.”

“This is troublesome.” Kis’eh’t drummed her fingers on the table. “An Eldritch... this being may have specialized needs, Reese. No one knows what they eat, what their normal medical profile is like, how to treat one that’s sick... no one even knows how properly to address them or what social or cultural mores they hold to. How are we supposed to save one of these creatures and make him comfortable?”

“I’m not sure,” Reese admitted. “And since the packet I received wasn’t exactly forthcoming with any of that kind of material, I’m not sure we’ll be expected to do this perfectly.” She pushed her data tablet to the center of the table with its gleaming pale picture of their charge. “That’s him. Hirianthial Sarel Jisiensire.”

“Say again?” Sascha said.

Reese repeated it.

Kis’eh’t shook her head. “We’ll let you address him.”

“At least he’s handsome for a human,” Irine said.

“He’s not human,” Reese said. “He’s Eldritch. And don’t forget it, if you don’t want him snooping around the inside of your brain. Anyway, there’s only one thing I think we can take for certainty... you’re not supposed to touch an Eldritch. So if all possible, let’s try to keep bodily contact to a minimum.”

“Awww,” Irine said.

Sascha studied the picture. “Angels, boss, I have to agree with her.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to come on to him, be my guest,” Reese said. “Just don’t expect me to put your furry behinds back together if it turns out he can blow things up by looking at them funny. And if we break him, I think our benefactor’s going to be very grumpy.”

“Speaking of, who’s the person with the money?” Sascha asked.

“I don’t know,” Reese said. “I’ve never seen her face.”

“Her face?” That was Irine.

Reese shrugged. “Just a guess.”

“A trap?” Bryer said into the following silence.

“I don’t know why she’d bother,” Reese said. “Obviously the woman is bleeding rich. If she’d really wanted to sell me, you and the rest of us into slavery, she could have just hired someone to do it long before now.”

“I wonder who she is,” Kis’eh’t murmured. “Who would know an Eldritch? One who left his world? It’s most peculiar.”

“Maybe we could meet her,” Sascha said.

Irine sniffed. “And get her to pay us.”

“For all I know she’s the Faerie Queen of Eldritches and he’s her errant prince,” Reese said. “Wondering about the assignment is pointless. I owe this person a debt and I’m going to pay it. If you don’t want to come along, I can… I can give you your severance pay in rooderberries. Since that’s all I’ve got left. Anyone want to leave?”

The silence was refreshing. And, though she didn’t want to admit it, a relief. She didn’t want to do this alone.

“Now,” Reese continued, “If you twins would be kind enough to set a course for Inu-Case, I would be obliged.”

***

While standing next to the fountain leading into the restaurant and waiting for a table, Hirianthial sensed a muted yellow aura gliding against his. A moment later, Sascha stepped up beside him.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Only if I’m buying,” Hirianthial said.

“Deal.”

“And if you tell me how long you’ve been following me.”

The tigraine folded his hands behind his back. “Since you left the medplex.” He glanced up at Hirianthial. “I was sitting outside the comm station long enough to read half a magazine. Did that go well?”

“You are curious,” Hirianthial said. The maitre’d noted his party’s addition without so much as a change in expression and brought them to a table outside in the patio. The yellow stone tiles and the plain wooden beams had been shrouded with blooming tropical flowers. Hirianthial had passed through enough starbases not to be surprised by the simulation of nightfall, but the candles on the table were still a welcome touch.

“It’s not curiosity,” Sascha said, once they’d unfolded their napkins and requested something to drink. “I was hoping you weren’t about to get sent off somewhere else.”

“Why does this worry you?” Hirianthial asked. “Your mistress has made it clear that my business isn’t of any concern to her or her people any longer.”

“Well, that’s where she’s wrong and you’re wrong.” Sascha set his menu down with a wrinkled nose. “I hate menus without prices. You order for me.”

Hirianthial cocked a brow at him, but did as requested. With no more distractions, he folded his hands on the table and waited for the tigraine to elaborate.

“Look, we’re no challenge for Reese.”

“And she needs a challenge,” Hirianthial said.

Sascha nodded, curving his hands around his cup of kerinne. Hirianthial had never developed a taste for the hot cinnamon drink, though he suspected it would be favorably received on his homeworld.

“Because...?” Hirianthial prompted.

“She’s not happy,” Sascha said simply.

“She’s not happy.”

“No,” the tigraine said. “She’s been doing this freighter thing for a while, and she’ll have you believe that she’s doing it for the money. And it’s true that she’s easier to be around when we’re not in debt... but then, who isn’t? But this thing with the Earthrise... it doesn’t make her happy. And we aren’t enough of a distraction from that.”

“And this role you want me to fill? Wouldn’t it be easier to suggest that she find another line of work?”

Sascha laughed. “You’ve known her long enough. You tell me if that would fly.”

Hirianthial considered it and smiled. “I suppose not. I’m still not certain where I come into this picture. My arrival wasn’t exactly auspicious.”

Daughter of two Cuban political exiles, M.C.A. Hogarth was born a foreigner in the American melting pot and has had a fascination for the gaps in cultures and the bridges that span them ever since. She has been many things—-web database architect, product manager, technical writer and massage therapist—-but is currently a full-time parent, artist, writer and anthropologist to aliens, both human and otherwise.

Her fiction has variously been recommended for a Nebula, a finalist for the Spectrum, placed on the secondary Tiptree reading list and chosen for two best-of anthologies; her art has appeared in RPGs, magazines and on book covers.

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