Ink Slinger

Ink Slinger

Ink Slinger By EM Malachi The magic quill transcribed faster than any human, and the dancing feather point left the ink dry and the page slightly warm. Bundor Bard skimmed a final time for mistakes before adding the paper to the pile. He handed the full bundle of <em>The Town Cryer</em> off to a courier. “Get these to West Britain immediately.” &nbsp; Bundor had nearly finished editing a retrospective on the Time Between Crowns, when Lady Machiavelli recalled into his office. She unceremoniously dropped a bag of mismatched pages on his desk. “A brief summary of the Governors’ Meeting, the Yew farm report, an interview with a goblin, and my letter of resignation.” &nbsp; “Good lady, you cannot quit. We would be lost without your keen observations. Please do stay.” &nbsp; “Flattery will only get you so far, Bundor. I’ve already visited two other cities before breakfast. We need more people.” &nbsp; “I have a plan for that. I hired someone to cover the beat in each town, and the guilds can report on themselves. This will let the rest of us focus on whatever the next crisis is.” &nbsp; Lady Machiavelli pulled her resignation letter and a cranberry muffin out of her bag. “I’ll mull things over during my next interview. A mayor is discussing his sixty-point plan for Cove. Should be plenty of dead time.” &nbsp; “That’s all I ask.” &nbsp; “And I would hate for someone else to get the story before I do.” &nbsp; As Lady Machiavelli wandered off to finish her late breakfast, Bundor looked at the pile of edits before him. These were interesting times. Smiling, he pulled out a fresh quill and started a new piece, <em>The Endless Journey</em>.