In his carriage, riding slowly through the countryside just outside the city, the old baron mutters what he wants me to do, and what his driver is going to pay me afterwards. He turns around and pulls aside his justaucorps. I make as if to oblige, but instead I lay my hand over his mouth, push him into the cushions and whisper: “I don’t want money.” He struggles, but not very hard. He is used to this game. Gently I pull off his wig, exposing a blotched pate. I can feel his surprise. “I want information.”
I find a lot of appeal in the eerie, the creepy, the unsettling. . . . I remember being told that you grow out of that kind of phase like you grow out of a pair of shoes, but mine just turned to hooves and booked it straight for the woods.
Sitting down to write this second column, I found myself wondering how many readers will have heard of its subject.
Ascending for seventy-three euphoric / seconds we thought they’d got away
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Paul Evanby's "Utrechtenaar (Part 2 of 2)."
