Issue #198
April 28, 2016

‘Or I Wil Harrie Them Out of This Land’

Henry flings the partly sewn upper at James's head. James laughs and ducks, and the thing flaps like a shot-struck fowl, flops to the floor. Henry leaps to his feet so violently that his stool topples over. —Out with you, he shouts, be gone!

Whale-Oil

Old Iris laughed. “Of course not, boy. I take only the bodies of those fish who offer themselves to my beak. But the world is too big now, and too hungry for light. More wanting out there than there are gifts to be given. For that, it will fall.”

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Altair stood at the edge of the bay holding a blue salmon oil lamp with wick and flame made of fallen stars.
From the Archives:
‘His Crowning Glory’: a new tale of the Antique Lands
Jon sat down in the doorway to watch the man go about whatever odd business his God had appointed to him.