"Ought to get the gate closed, Allie" said Barty.
"Aye, in a minute, in a minute," replied Allie, whose true name was Aloysius, but it never seemed reasonable to expect folk to tangle their tongues on such a name. He was sorting out a pile of cards on a table in the guard-shack.
"Stop yer silly card-game, and come help me with the gate!" said Barty. "It's almost twelve o' the clock!"
"All right, all right! Enough o' yer barkin'!" answered Allie, yanking irritably at his beard as he stood up with a loud grating from the chair legs.
The two men trudged out into the street, placing themselves on either side of the heavy wooden gate.
"Oi! Half a moment, Barty," Allie called out. "Lass coming through."
"Ye be out awful late, lassie," Barty offered to the slender, cloaked figure who was approaching the gate on swift feet.
The two guards could hear the woman speaking as she came near, but it soon became clear that she was not offering a response to Barty's comment. They could not see her face, as the hood of her cloak was pulled over her features. She seemed dressed for traveling, or perhaps hunting, with a bow strung on her back, and various bags and pouches bouncing against her hip and leg as she walked by. Her words were audible for a few seconds, and then faded into the darkness beyond the gate. "I don't care. I don't care. I don't care."
Allie and Barty exchanged a look.
"Bit too much ale, that one?" said Allie, giving the gate a harsh push to get it moving.
