Happy New Year! ‘08 was great, ‘09 was fine, but 2010 we’re starting again! As we head into a fresh season, I wanted to give you a long overdue update on what’s happening with Ad Deum/Ambassador news! Contents Below: 1. Last Season Review. a. Pics b. Video links! 2. Upcoming Events. 3. Publishing News! a. Book excerpt! Last Season: We had a blitzkrieg of performances beginning Oct 30th, and averaging 2 to 3 productions every couple of weeks. Our last ministry was with a church here in Houston that asked us to come out and create 4 new dances (!) for their Christmas production. Don’t worry: we only had about 2 weeks to do it! Not only did we pull it off, but I was honored to be asked by Randy to choreograph two extended mime segments to compliment the dances. 
(rehearsing The Promise) 
(teaching the team to mime) The result? The church went wild, and even the director insisted that we were the best part of the evening, making the message of the Christmas visual. It was a blast. I can’t show you the whole production, but here is a link to an amateur video taken of Randy’s piece The Promise, about waiting for the promised redeemer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4tPyjMUHRo It was clear as we spoke with people afterwards that many people were blown away by the message, and blessed deeply. What a joy and honor! 
(a jazzy Motown number called Get the Chrismas Spirit, captured the joy and zaniness of the holidays! here our four person creature from Wondrous Beast surprised and delighted audiences in this silly Santa's sleigh routine.) Coming Up! Looking ahead we have an exciting and busy semester. We have been asked by the Houston Society of Performing Arts (SPA) to do a prelude performance for the world renowned Mark Morris Company next weekend. We are also performing with two of Houston’s top contemporary companies in February. Following that we’ll be hosting/performing for our own Spring Break workshop in March and premiering Project Dance Houston (www.projectdance.com), and touring in New York (and hopefully Connecticut!!!) in April. Stay tuned for where’s and when’s. Publishing! Well, the time has come! And this is the target month to begin the publishing process. I have been in dialogue with a reputable self publishing house called Winepress Group, which is offering me an amazing package that includes an editor (virtually unheard of for self publishers). I’ve test-run my story on multiple target demographics with positive reviews all around. So rather than waste my time getting denied by a mainline fantasy publishers who think vampires are the only source of marketable fiction right now, I’m going the self publishing route. The cost of this venture is just over $5,000. Will you help me? I’m looking for Sponsors to make this book a reality. My desire is to see positive, good quality fantasy fiction doing what it does best; inspiring imaginations while imbued with admirable moral traits (like the greats: Tolkien and Lewis). No more dark, sexual, vampire stories in the hands of teenagers. So this is the plan: for every $100 donated to the publishing costs, I’ll put 2 copies of my book in the hands of youth pastors, PTA organizers, home school groups, and/or public libraries—anywhere it can be made accessible to young people. Will you please consider how you can be a part of this vision? Also, if you know someone who would be a good contact for the donated books when completed, please put them in contact with me. Not only for this story, Cougar Moon, but also for several other titles I have either completed or currently have in the works. Thanks for you consideration, and generous sponsorship. I will leave you now with blessings for the new year, new adventures, and new peace in our Lord. And please Enjoy this little excerpt from Cougar Moon: For the Kingdom, Daniel Cossette Cougar Moon Chapter X Tobbel found Isias at the Sanctuary fountain. The Constable was mad. “Where have you been, boy?” he demanded, shouting across the courtyard, so everybody present could hear. There were only a few vigilant saints leaving their late afternoon prayers and filing out of the Sanctuary. Still, they made Isias even more self-conscious about carrying his water bucket to the rapidly disappearing water of the fountain. Even the stylistic carving of saintly Heman charitably giving water to Garish didn’t relieve his embarrassment. Tobbel had his tall hat on again today. That didn’t promise anything good; the large man barreled across the courtyard towards him. “Well, answer me!” the Constable pressed. “I… I’ve been trying to help someone who’s sick.” Isias answered. “Isn’t that noble of you. Did it occur to you to check with me? I’ve been up to my neck in questions, chasing down more folks who’ve died in the night while you’ve been off pretending to be a leech.” Isias started, “Who died?” “Two more folk, and Simmeron’s big bay horse! I practically died myself in this heat, running around the whole town without any help. Undertaker’s not pleased you weren’t around either.” “Yeah, probably because he had to carry the bodies to the cart himself.” Isias retorted. Maachah was a big, morose fellow, though pleasant enough—in a pitiable way, considering his grim occupation. Normally Isias liked him, but the ghastly white corpses had been too much even for the undertaker, and Isias had been delegated to get them on his cart. “Don’t get smart with me, boy.” Tobbel said, sticking his finger in Isias’ face. “Another crack like that and you’ll be the next thing on Maachah’s cart.” “Why? Are you the ghost that’s killing everyone?” Isias sneered. Isias barely saw the hand coming. Tobbel’s massive paw hooked into the side of Isias’ head with a smack, sending Isias to the ground in a daze of light. Isias hit his knees on the flagstone courtyard before the fountain. “I warned you not to smart off with me!” Tobbel spat over the ringing in Isias ears, “Next time you do I’m gonna’ smack you right out of law enforcement and into jail.” Isias winced, as Tobbel stalked off. Reflexively he reached for his jack-club, aggravation pumping through his veins. Gripping the club so hard his knuckle popped, he pushed off the fountain, and spun towards Tobbel’s retreating bulk. Adrenaline tingled in his pores; he reached for the sense of power… Then he stopped. The goodly saints had caught his eye. He stood frozen for a moment staring at Tobbel’s arrogant hat. Then, with a gasp of vexation, he turned back to the petrified congregants. Head throbbing and eyes watering, Isias sank down to sit on the edge of the fountain. Between his feet he saw in one of the pool’s tableaus a carving of Knight Alexicer the Just. He choked back a sob and dashed the tears from his eyes until Father Judiah came and tried to console him. Pageos listened to their tale with white eyebrows raised. “Well, you’ve had quite and adventure! I wondered if you’d gotten my key. Do you still have it?” “It is yours!” Jamess said, “Yes I have it here.” He produced it from his pocket and offered it to Pageos. Pageos shook his head, “Oh no, you keep it. I’m too old to be leaping out of observatory windows. It is better in your hands. I knew Kithom would demand it of me, so while he paced I slid it onto his robe. Quite clever I thought. When he asked me for it, I said I didn’t have it. He was too angry to ask me why. But I didn’t know if you’d get it or not.” Pageos smiled with satisfaction. Isias piped up, “Show him what we found.” Jamess had nearly forgotten. The torn book pages were sorely crumpled from their rough ride in his pocket, but Jamess had managed to take them with him out the window. Pageos took the manuscript with interest and read it to himself. “Interesting.” Looking up he smiled mildly, “It’s strange when yesterday’s mythology becomes today’s current events. So that’s what he’s up to. What an unfortunate piece of geography we’ve chosen.” Pageos sighed and folded up the pages. “How is your patient?” he asked, looking at Isias. The constable’s assistant grinned slightly, “He’s better. Since I took you’re advice.” “What advice?” Pageos asked. “I only told you what you knew.” “What are you talking about?” Jamess asked. “One of the Hunters, those strange beggars, was hurt several nights ago. I guess he was fighting with the Elk-witch. He kept getting worse until…” Isias’ voice trailed off. Pageos finished, “Young Isias has a gift for healing the sick. He has the blessing of Thean.” Jamess looked at the assistant in surprise. “Like Tril-palid, in the Book of Thean?” Pageos nodded, pleased, “Yes, something like that.” “Well anyway,” Isias said, nervously, “he’s getting better much quicker, and a third hunter has joined them. He has green eyes and a green blade from a staff with a mountain cat’s head. They seem to respect this new one a lot.” Pageos nodded, but Jamess listened in surprise, “I had a metal carving of a cougar.” Turning to Pageos he added with disappointment: “But I left it in the Observatory when Kithom found us the first time.” “Ah,” puffed Pageos, “I was not able to take my key, but I did salvage the moon-blade from Kithom’s purgings.” Triumphantly he produced the snarling cougar from among the many articles on his table. “Moon-blade?” Jamess asked, his interest piqued. “They are an ancient weapon of shrouded origin,” Pageos said excitedly, “but they are deadly sharp, and only manifest when the moon has risen!” Jamess looked at his finger, still bandaged tightly. “Yeah, I know.” Isias was turning the moon-blade over in his hands, inspecting it closely. “This is exactly like the one Courga has!” he exclaimed. When the others looked at him questioningly he told them: “When Purama brought Courga to my place he had a glowing blue blade. By morning it was all gone except a mountain cat carving just like this! Purama has a purple one.” “Well, then it is most likely theirs,” Pageos nodded, “I’m sure they would be very grateful to regain it. They are precious! You keep it Isias, but be careful with it, and give it to them promptly. Weapons of perwyr are not lightly cast aside. “But back to the more pressing issue,” Pageos said, “we must find a way to foil Endorrīga’s attempt to complete his evil incantation.” “How do we do that?” Jamess asked. Isias echoed him nearly word for word. “I do not make it my ambition to know much about the Black Craft, but the legend expressly lists animal sacrifice and a sixtogram, which is a Zimkadi symbol. It is logical to conclude that Endorrīga will be attempting to establish another sixtogram. But how?” The cluttered hut was silent as the three thought about the dilemma. Jamess dabbed at the scrapes on his arms with the medicated cloth Pageos had given him. The liquid stung somewhat but he bore it, trusting it would cleanse the wound as Pageos claimed. Finally Pageos asked, “How many deaths have there been?” Isias counted, his fingers ticking along as he mentally calculated the victims. “Eight. Always two at a time.” “Who has it been?” Isias blew out a frustrated breath and tried to remember. Slowly he recounted them, mentally moving along the edge of the city from the north, around the east side, and to the latest deaths in the south. Pageos listened carefully, and began scribbling their names down on a piece of paper with a pencil. “What does the Constable make of all this?” he asked distractedly. Jamess watched as Isias’ tall back slump in defeat, “He refuses to believe, even when the evidence is obvious. When I pressed him he actually hit me.” There was something alarming in his voice, as he rubbed the side of his face in memory. Jamess raised his eyebrows, upset. Pageos looked up too. His wrinkles creased in sympathy, “Some people don’t like to believe in a world that’s bigger than they can control. But don’t let his ignorance tear you down to a lower level. Crucibles are to refine us, not destroy us.” Jamess watched Isias nod respectfully and lower his eyes to the floor. He wondered what had transpired between the two while he was not with them. Suddenly he looked out the window. “I need to get home!” he exclaimed. “I have to get my work for the Observatory lessons tonight!” “Of course!” announced Pageos, “here I am keeping you from your duties. Get along, but visit me tomorrow, and I shall tell you if I’ve learned anything more.” Jamess led the way out the door, and Isias followed, saying goodbye to Pageos. In a moment they were on their way down the path. * Please consider if you can be a sponsor of this publising endeavour! Thank you! | 
