Kevin Wade Johnson
2020
We trudged up to the border post in a steady drizzle. Nothing but a dry-stack stone hut beside the road, the post held a single guard, grizzled-looking but tough. She stepped up to the doorway, but not out into the wet. "Welcome to the Barony of Rain," she said. "State your business." She didn't just look tough, she was tough. One guard, facing me and Mouse? Especially when she's closer to Mouse's size than mine? Okay, Mouse doesn't look like much unless you've been around, but me plus anybody is enough to make most nervous. Especially ever since Mouse got me this idiot bearskin to wear. People get nervous. I look like I might go all grisly on them. "Got an invite," I said. "Your Captain Arturo sent for us." "Not my Captain Arturo," she grumbled. "Do I look like a palace guard?" "Look like a body who wants to stay away from all the spitting and polishing." "Hah," she said. "Got that one. So, you got an invite from the glorious Captain?" "Said we did." "Lemme see—" She caught herself. "It's not in writing. You can't read." "Hah," I said. "Got that one. Word came from a cloth merchant, name of Darak." "One of those," she said. Must not like the Underfolk, obviously. "Whatever. His word was good." "Oh sure. Hold on," she said, ducking back into the hut for a moment. "Here," she said, holding out a baked-clay plaque. "Safe conduct to the capital. Show it to any patrols." "Got trouble, huh?" She looked at me as if my brains had been sucked out. "We invited you two in, didn't we?" "Got me there," I said. "Go," she said. "Gone." And we trudged over the border, into the barony.
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