The Stoneholding

man -- somehow.

Taking a breath, Frysan repeated the tongue-twisting syllables of the password phrase. He had been in Dinas Antrum for six years now on and off and had always possessed a good ear for language, passing for a lowlander readily enough with most of the people he encountered in the city. But that slightest bit of a brogue, he knew he'd always have it in a pinch. It stuck to him like burdock seed. Here it was, dogging him again, putting his very life in the balance. He stumbled pointedly, trying to unclick his tongue and round out the sounds. He cringed at the reaction he expected from Baldrick as he finished.

"O mercy on me, you can take the boy out of Woodglence, but you can't take Woodglence out of the boy!" Baldrick guffawed, pulling at his beard. "Come, soldier, open up. We'll let him pass. It's just his marchland accent." Again there appeared a gleam of mockery in his small sable eyes, but no longer as veiled as before. They waited for the huge door to be unbarred and unbolted by the sentries on duty within. The Captain bade the pikemen resume their post as guards outside the gate. The door swung open.

"After you, Master Draper Dorassy," Baldrick trilled with leering gusto.

The door banged shut behind Frysan. He was now sealed into the ...