Marcus watched as the thief pulled a cylinder from her pack that was the size of her forearm. He wondered if that was it. She uncapped the cylinder and pulled out a roll of parchment. Marcus held his breath. But when the thief, Lily, glanced up at him and saw his expression, she smirked.
“This isn’t it,” she said. Then she sighed. Her hand flicked to her collar and suddenly there was something in her hand. It was only the size of her longest finger. A fine bit of parchment, it seemed. Nothing special. But that was it. She was the one, the Only Honorable Thief. And that bit of parchment was it.
The Protean Scroll.
*** Continue reading
Myths and legends of old speak of a golden fleece that was shorn from a mighty ram belonging to the gods. This fleece became a symbol of power and kingship. In the possession of legends, it became a legend itself.
But this story is not about the famous fleece of the ancient world. It is about another fleece, not as well-known, though just as mighty in its own way. Rare and much-disputed is the tale of this fleece.
***** Continue reading
People hire me to find things for them. I have a special skill that may not seem like a big deal at first blush, but if you think about, you’d realize just how useful it can be. Like now. I don’t have a gun. I don’t know how to fight. But I’m on the run from guys who seem to have more firepower than the army. And so far, I’m staying a step ahead of them. And it’s all because of the nose.
***** Continue reading
“What’s special about this one?” Tim asked his employer. The seller had spun a story about it having belonged to a musketeer. Tim didn’t know and didn’t need to know whether that was true or not to do his job.
Tim’s employer set his cane down on the table and carefully folded open the paper packaging. He gazed down at the long coat. He was wearing gloves as usual despite the mild, if overcast, weather. He slipped the glove off his right hand and reached out to touch the coat’s dusty faded lapel. Continue reading
“Salazar. But my friends call me Sally.”
“Sally, we haven’t met formally. I’m Nora. I know you’ve been through interview after interview—”
“Some felt like interrogations to be honest.” Continue reading