Inside Man

by K.J. Parker

him wonder— He sees me inside a deacon from Odryssa visiting the Third Horn library to consult a commentary on Theodosius. There’s always one or two new faces in a big, cosmopolitan monastery like the Third Horn; it’s one of the things he and I both like about the place. I happen to know, having been inside his mind earlier, that he’s rather fond of sesame-seed rolls, which is why I crept into Brother Cellarer’s head and planted there the notion of baking them today. Some people might call it demonic possession, but to me, it’s just being considerate. Brother Eusebius nibbles the end off his roll and looks at me over it. “Not bad.” “Personally,” I reply, “I could do without the hint of cinnamon.” “Me, too, but nothing’s ever perfect. Thank you.” Oh. “What for?” He smiles at me. “Sometimes, to win us to our harm,” he says with his mouth full, “the instruments of darkness bring us buns. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”