A Filter Not Too Fine And Not Too Coarse

Tig raised his head and flattened himself again a few times before he decided that between committing to the greatest peril and creeping away, he preferred to have money. He ascended, against the objections of his heart and trembling legs, and paused again to survey the floor, the highest but one in the sorcerer's tower.
It could not be so easy. Not a single guard, snare, or lock had slowed his ascent, but only his own misgivings. There before him were arrays of materials and apparatuses presumably mystical in their applications set out on tables, sorted on shelves, perched on trunks, and spred across the floor. With so much, nothing could be left for the highest floor but the owner himself. Certainly there was some trap there, but perhaps one calibrated for the sorcerer's colleagues. Penury meanwhile had both certainty and relevance to Tig's sort exactly.
He therefore informed his heart no further remonstrations would be welcome and set about looking for the most valuable items. His excitement dimmed somewhat as he went along.
"It has been some time now, yet, what? Empty-handed? Does nothing of mine appear valuable to you?"
The sorcerer's words startled every part of Tig, a good thing or else the violence of the effect on some portions of his body would have caused an uneven jerk that would have torn him into thirty sections. Instead, the simultaneous operation of all his components resulted in total paralysis.
The sorcerer beside him had by contrast nothing but ease in his manner. "It isn't. Only I would buy any of this, within fifty miles that is. The capable merchant is someone who realizes sorcerous items are for sorcerers, the clever opportunist turns around upon finding the door unlocked, then comes you, and after that the other thieves, all of them grabbing and trying to sell my things before they realize. That place where you are is what I want in an agent for buying and selling. You won't like the job, but what of that?"
The sorcerer was mistaken as to that last point, but in no way did that diminish the efficacy of his hiring policy.
Finis

Lunar Approachability

Quite frankly, if the moon doesn't come close enough to the planet that the people on either can wave at each other, I don't think your story counts as fantasy. Alt history, maybe.

Addendum

This is less of a concern as it impinges on Babylon, because we'll call that Eternal Babylon. Don't listen to Gundam F91 on this topic, Gundam people don't understand anything about names.

Historical Complaint

If we call a bunch of jokers from back in the day the Neo-Assyrian Empire, what are we supposed to use for future settings? Neo Psychic Assyrian Empire, I suppose.

Future Policies

Should all astronauts be trained in hand-to-hand combat? That seems to come up an awful lot in the coolest science fiction, and those fellows have been right about everything so far.

Addendum

You probably thought Corny was short for Cornelius, but it's actually short for Cornucopia.

Month Mascot

Now that all that unpleasantness is behind us, let's applaud November's new spokesman, Corny Copia! He'll be telling us all about harvesting procedures throughout the ages, hiding corn in your teeth, and making recipes fun! You might not have all the ingredients, but approximately 80% of cuisine is heating something up and adding sauce, so who cares!

Dream-Vision of the Inescapable Tomb

In a strange shop, not strange to me whose delight it long was to search out dubiously precious curiosities, pig-like, but strange to economists whose theories were upset by the continued existence of that and similar patently unprofitable establishments, I came across a purportedly antique jar which bore designs impossible to mistake for authentic but nevertheless to my taste. I bought the thing and spent the evening hours contemplating it, tracing with a thoughtful nail the figures thereon and imagining the scenes depicted in lively fullness. A sense developed in me, I cannot explain it, of anticipation, that the actions shown awaited still their sequel, but the nature of either part I could not discern. Then imperious Hypnos called upon me, and reluctantly I set my treasure aside.
That night I dreamt, I must have, that I was in a chamber I knew to be the tomb of Menethkarses, knowledge impossible to have since no living man knew anything of that place or that name. Nevertheless I knew that and more, and knowing I watched with growing horror while dread Menethkarses, by foul fate risen again, moved with one step after another closer tothe great portal intended once as a ward against robbers but now the last and shoddy bulwark against an implacable power as sure to dominate the world by means of unfathomable sorceries as the gun must triumph over beasts.
Closer, and closer, and closer the awful wrapped thing walked till, amazing to say, I awoke from that which was no dream. It was my clock which roused me, another curiosity, but one far different in characte,r for I never had anything from it but amusement when it rang the twelfth hour. In the space between the first chime and the last, the hoary knowledge which for a time I had as an unwelcome companion departed, blessedly so or else I had never been able to endure it, except for this, that with the close of that Halloween day ended also the danger, that Menethkarses even then retraced his steps toward his sepulchural bed. How narrowly were we saved, I marveled, and that we had been saved every year for these past several thousand years, and ever would, for that ancient conjurer was unlikely to increase his pace, at his advanced age.
Finis

Addendum

But now they're back! As zombies or terrible pumpkin-headed gentlemen!

Happy Halloween

A merry Halloween to all who celebrate. Those who don't are dead already, I imagine.