Issue #191
January 21, 2016

In Skander, for a Boy

I was sure this boy did know a back way to the kitchens. That was his Skander, and his experience: covert, insinuating, conditional. Not mine. “This is my way, my king’s way,” in through the front door to ask straightforwardly for what I wanted. They would see Rulf at my back, and all his ships behind him; they would not refuse me. In and out.

Blessed are Those Who Have Seen and Do Not Believe

I chuckled, cracked open my pistol’s cylinder, and loaded it with the wooden ammunition. “Don’t worry, my dear,” I said, and tucked the gun in my waistband. “There’s plenty of time before sunrise.”

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Despite my profession, I have never considered myself to be a holy man.
From the Archives:
To the Gods of Time and Engines, a Gift
The silent commands were with her all the time now, haunting and familiar.