the smuggler’s bible


The grain burns like sawdust. A tongue of flame erupts from the mouth of an enormous cannon, followed by a warm breeze and rolling thunder that rattles the windows.

“Perhaps I didn’t know about the poison.”

“Come now.”

“Yes, well, only later, you see,” the Burgrave says, closing the shutters. “The poor have to eat, after all.”

“And you will continue to see that they do.”

“What if I make another mistake?”

“You will be much more careful. Or you won’t. You could buy cheap grain again.”

“I would save a great deal of money.”

“Sir, you would die rich.”