The Price of a Meal
The Price of a Meal The dusted day drags, The parched pastures pass, Their parched people peer, None come this way, Yet he is now among them. They will not accept him: He is Outside, He is Outland, He cannot know their troubles, None that have not lived them may. They would drive him, Were it not for his bearing, Were it not for his sigil, And the weapons he carries – Those speak to worse troubles yet. He seeks the inn, Little more than a brew-sell, Thought it speaks of lodge. He will be overcharged. He will be overcharged by all. Until. It has not been a fortnight That the messenger arrived. Messenger, ha! A child! Sent by whom she would not say, She was not pressed for it, The fear on her spoke clear. They had come: Rovers, rogues and robbers, Long were they tracked, Their path too uneven, Their targets too well chosen. Flush with ill gain, They mel...