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The next noise I knew quite well; a sword drawn through a belt-ring. And there stood a small man, lost in a vast feathered cloak-and-cowl with a great ash-roc plume curling up from a thick combed headband, pointing a long needle of steel at me, his arm shod in small quills like an ant-hunter. I swear I heard a tinny, whistling call as my eyes took him in.

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Read “The Scorn of the Peregrinator” by John E.O. Stevens, in Issue #109

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John E.O. Stevens pens a weekly column for the SF Signal website on fantastic literature and its cultures. He has been published in Apex Magazine, Bull Spec, and Proxima: Dansk Science Fiction Tidsskrift and has a story forthcoming in Le Zaparogue. He labors as a bookseller in the wilds of upstate New York where he is currently working on two books (one fiction, one non-fiction), when he is not reading with his daughter or being a curmudgeon. You can find him lurking about his blog (http://jhstevens.wordpress.com/) or on twitter @eruditeogre.

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