Gatekeeper

 

 




"State yer business," the gatekeeper growled.

Osran had no immediate answer, so he just said the first thing on his mind. Sometimes, that worked. "You are the gatekeeper?"

The old man stared, his scowl deepening. "No. I'm the bloody faery princess." He thrust his flickering lamp almost into Osran's face, close enough to smell the tallow.

Osran tried the truth. "I am looking for a special person. His name is Elzalore."

The gatekeeper's brow furrowed. "He ain't special."

Osran held up a gold coin. "Would you help me find him?"

The old man took the coin and growled, "He ain't here no more. Been gone two days. Headed north on foot with a pack mule." The old man stepped back into the courtyard and slammed the gate in Osran's face.

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