I’m not sure how many people remember Lossina Hanchkillian-Rochal- Oeltang. From her name alone you could see she was a young woman of good family and well connected. Unfortunately her mother was a lady of strange ideas. One of these was that her daughter was a delicate flower, a perpetual innocent who must be … More Knowing your onions
It has to be confessed that there are many outlandish and eccentric services patrons require from their poets. This is even after setting aside salacious suggestions, for which I have a number of well rehearsed answers, plus the support of a couple of reliably louche poets of a younger generation whom I can fall … More Cannot see the wood for the trees?
As a mutual acquaintance commented, ‘Ranal O’Var seems to have shrugged off the distressing death of his mother with the nonchalant unconcern one would expect from one brought up in the gladiatorial arena that is Uttermost Partann.’ Still, perhaps because he no longer had to watch his back, nor second-guess his mother’s plotting; Ranal … More The continuation of politics by other means; further elucidation
Politics, as practiced in Uttermost Partann, is something of an extreme sport. It is possible for practitioners to die in their own beds, but normally this is the result of an acute digestive upset. Death by misadventure is aspirational, dying of old age almost unknown. Still there are rules, or at least firm guidelines. The … More The continuation of politics by other means.
It’s sad really; people seem to think that Port Naain is a city that stinks of squalor and degradation. But there are many genuinely pleasant areas. One of the nicest is the Mercantile Quarter. It is to the west of the Grand Library and spreads down the side of the hill. The part that overlooks … More A nice cup of coffee whilst sitting in the sun