Thorn
The Shepherd, Book III
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved
Chapter IV
"You have added little to the challenge since the last visit," spoke the gatekeeper evenly, "save for a veneer of sweetness inconsistent with your purposes."
"Why the hard aspect?" I thought. But the eparch continued as if unhearing.
"My emissary will present an ostracon to your boy, still caked in the local soil, inscribed with the name of Thorn's regent of that era, his clan, and the rightful designation of this plain upon which we now stand."
"We moved no boundary stone," answered the gatekeeper. "We searched diligently. How old is this claim?"
"If you will allow your boy to approach and meet my man mid-way, you will, upon inspection of the sherd, know all yourself."
The gatekeeper motioned to me, yet not removing his gaze from the eparch. I found it easier to move my feet than earlier. I met the eparch in the center. Beneath his hood was a pit of darkness. His cloak, woven of hair, was marked with blotches at odd intervals. I noted a faintly acrid odor, like ash. In the silence I extended my cupped hands. As I glanced down I saw the handle of an amphora drop into my right from within the sleeve of the eparch. When I looked up he pressed what I thought was a silk cloth into my left.
"And something for yourself," he rasped, with a voice like a twig scraping a slate roof.