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Matter of Thyme by Vlork
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Sergeant Wrent, of the Krelle Night Guard, was on duty at the gates of
the city, in pouring rain at three o’clock in the morning. He wiped
the rain out of his eyes, and turned to Corporal Plord, who was
sitting in the meager shelter offered by an overhanging alcove.
“It’s about time we closed the gates and went home, Corporal. No one’s
going to invade the city tonight,” he said, yawning.
“Yeah, let’s go, Sarge.” the corporal replied. He paused, glanced at
the open gate and blinked. “Wait a moment, who’s that?”
“What? I don’t see anything.”
“Yeah. Never mind.” Corporal Plord blinked and rubbed his eyes. “I
need some sleep.” He yawned.
A tall figure, clad in a black cloak, slipped through the closing
gate, unseen.
* * *
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3.2006
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