3,300 words today, in about two elapsed hours heavily punctuated by homework assistance and other Dadly duties. (Mostly discussions of Ming dynasty rulers, the Cheng Ho fleet and taking cube roots and higher. I don't remember seventh grade being like this.)

I am at 14,400 words in the book and seem to have caught the flow. Various minor auctorial neuroses are emerging — It's going to be too long! It's going to be too short! I managed to think both of these at the same time. — but this is my tenth contracted book and (roughly) the fourteenth novel I've written. I can handle it.

"I shall take him," I said, then hastily added, "if he will go. That is much to ask of a young man."

"This young man will not need to be asked." That was Ponce, close by again. He looked as if he meant to be brave. "I am going."

I turned to him, shifting my babies to my shoulders. It occurred to me I could never fight like this. Should they have small leathers of their own?

"Do you know where we are headed?"

"Kalimpura," he said promptly.

"A city full of women like me, and men like that fool who attacked us. Are you certain you wish to go there?"

"I will follow you anywhere." His eyes glittered.