It was Sneal, a friend of mine, who told me this story. Sneal is a peddler, or wandering merchant if you wish to flatter him. Not that flattery will get you anywhere; there are few men with their heads more firmly screwed on than Sneal. Indeed you might wonder how he ended up as the … More Not perhaps the best location
I confess now that I am not what you might describe as an accomplished cook. There are a few simple dishes I can prepare, toast is one. But my admiration for the person who can cook knows no bounds. Any of these creative geniuses will find me sitting at the table, napkin neatly tucked … More A few simple spices
It has to be said that I may not have mentioned Anald in these jottings of mine. Indeed until Sue Vincent jogged my memory I’d entirely forgotten the incident. Anald was perhaps one of the finest cozeners I have ever had dealings with. A person of immense charm, he had spent nearly twenty years separating … More Bucolic abandon
Neethlie Mossot was destined for great things by her mother. She aspired for her daughter to be a quaintrelle, a social butterfly, an ornament to society. Neethlie rather spoiled that by running away at the age of sixteen with a Partannese soldier of fortune. Just between ourselves there is some controversy over her age at … More The Mother of her people
Talopian Hearsan was one of those people I just somehow never took too. I’m not sure why to be honest; he was always polite and respectful to a poet of my status. The problem was perhaps that he was too polite and too respectful. In the same way he was always too nicely dressed, too … More Too nice?