"You've come a long way, haven't you?"

  I say nothing in reply.

  "You're not from around here."

  "No, I'm not."

  "Who vouches for you?"

  I struggle to keep my weight from sinking. "Nobody vouches for me."

  I watch a wall rise across her face. "What do you need?"

  "A meal. Cash up front." I hold up the coins. Five, shiny, silver. More than enough.

  She takes my coins and inspects them, then passes two back to me. Cracks in the wall. "We don't prey on strangers here."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "That is just."

  "You came in with the caravan. Are you a Rider?"

  I shake my head. "No, I hired on for one trip."

  She places a bowl of porridge on the table. "It's simple, but it's what we have at these hours."

  "It is more than enough."

  She lets me eat in silence. The boiled grains taste like heaven after days on the road. There's some spice in them, and no Dasvoner spares butter. She's not watching me closely.

  She doesn't know who I am, or she doesn't care. I'm not sure which is worse.

  The borderlands are soft.

  "What are you looking for?"

  "Oh?"

  "Nobody comes out here unless there's a reason, and you're not a Rider."

  "I'm looking for a man."

  "Maybe I've seen him."

  The sores on the back of my neck ache. "You shouldn't help me."

  She furrows her brow. "We're more hospitable to strangers here."

  I shake my head again.

  "I intend to kill him."