CASTING AN APPREHENSIVE BACKWARD GLANCE, Prosatio Silban flicked the plaited yak-hair reins to hurry his quaint lumbering dray-beast. He was passing through rough and rocky countryside, and wanted to reach his destination at speed – as befitted a pursued man…
Category: Writing
My own serious stuff; the craft itself; those who inspire me in it; the art of reading.
Prosatio Silban and the Revealer of Secrets
PROSATIO SILBAN SIPPED AT HIS glass of white duliac, savoring the wine’s herbal essence, and continued to enjoy the Arrow-and-Wheel’s boisterous patrons. Rustic farmers occupied most of the plank tables, discussing the weather, the prospects, whose cows were ill and…
Prosatio Silban and the Ersatz Indigene
“A CHANGE OF CLOTHES IS not a change of man,” goes the old Uulian proverb – and neither is it a change of cultures. Prosatio Silban wiped the copious sweat from his hairless brow and sighed. He and his quaint…
Prosatio Silban and the Proportional Mystery
SOMETIMES, EVEN AN ENCHANTER NEEDS a bit of mundane help. Prosatio Silban was sitting, chin in hand, at one of his galleywagon’s two tables-and-chairs in cosmopolitan Soharis’ eastern marketplace, watching potential customers walk by and wondering what he could do…
Prosatio Silban and the Evasive Death
STARLESS DARKNESS FILLED THE OBSERVABLE universe. Where am I? Prosatio Silban thought. He tried to make his voice work, but couldn’t find or even feel his throat. In fact, his entire body seemed to be missing. What am I? Only…
A Self-Defrocked Holyman In A Fantastic Land Ekes Out A Meager But Honest Living As A Mercenary Cook
PROSATIO SILBAN ONCE MINISTERED TO the souls of the Uulian Commonwell’s faithful. But now, his heartfelt devotion is to tend the palates and gullets he encounters on his journeys as a mercenary cook. Inspired by Don Quixote, J.A. Brillat-Savarin’s The…
Prosatio Silban and the Agreeable Disagreement
SOMETIMES, AND WITHOUT MEANING TO, religious faith can eat itself by blurring the lines between divine desires and human humbuggery. By which is meant, O Patient Reader, that while the Flickering Gods always have a clear idea as to what…
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THIS IS WHAT COMES FROM puttering about in a small morning with nothing else to do (thanks, PKD, for the reference): “Little-t truths for our and every time; a considerable consideration of considerings.” Pithyisms is, thanks to Smashwords, my second…
Prosatio Silban and the Sacreantal Reflex
IT BEGAN WITH A SIMPLE question: “What is the most challenging place you’ve ever visited?” “The place where I learned not to drink,” Prosatio Silban replied, raising a glass of blue duliac. “But you are drinking now!” pointed out his…
Prosatio Silban and the Forgotten God
IT WAS A DARK AND stormy night, and Prosatio Silban, thoroughly soaked, could feel a watchful gaze upon him as he parked his galleywagon under a crumbling iron roof. He shivered, searching for the source of his unease. But nothing…
Prosatio Silban and the Advertent Appetizer
AND THEN THERE WAS THE time Prosatio Silban sold a meal for a song – literally. The beefy cook had set up his galleywagon in the small, quiet, and mostly indifferent marketplace at the village of Taverner’s Luck, but had…
Prosatio Silban and the Royal Fete
EAST OF THE UULIAN COMMONWELL lies the shaggy, semi-marshy expanse called by Commonwell-folk the Emerald Incessance. Few of those outsiders traverse it without purpose, or dread, or both; its green depths do not long hold even well-known paths, and what…