Correspondence, Hence

April 10, 2013 § 1 Comment

Thee Idea and Facte of thee Aetherick Ryft layes not welle in thee Mindes of Menne, Frende mine. ‘Tis an Affronte to the Sanctitie of Earth and of Heavene that offendes both Eye and Thoughte. Willt it be welle that all Investigationes be halted most speedily and these Thynges of which we Discourse be layd at Reste as they be before.

Thys Talke of Poles & Wyres & Lodes breede nowe a Foule Notionne, as much as that of Devyls and Sprytes…


In Spaces

March 19, 2013 § 1 Comment

“It’s getting worse, Heinrich.”


“The thaumarc. It’s…worse somehow. Brighter. Or darker, I’m not sure.”

“It’s the rain, I heard. They say that the rain leeches light from the sky and brightens the arc.”

“Do they? And you believe that?”

“As much as I believe anything else these days. Why does it matter, anyway? So it’s brighter…”

“Or darker.”

“Or darker, whichever. It’s always there. It always will be there. Damned robes and their mumbling…”

“Mumbling which is different from our work in what way, exactly?”

“I don’t mumble and I don’t meddle. I investigate, catalogue and understand…and I don’t rend holes in the Aether just to poke a staff into it and see what happens!”

“I see. How is your en-djinn, by the way?”

“Working. Barely. I swear that fool Smink can’t tell the difference between brass and copper. I almost fused the coil yesterday!”

“And that’s bad?”

“Oh, no…only if you think that the loss of a half-year’s work and the subsequent, brutal death of a local businessman is a bad thing.”


“Yes, ‘ah’. Pass me that barsom-rod, would you?”

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