The Barracks Door

Late at night Gammar returned to the guard post. Nivra, broad-shouldered and sure-footed, had stopped a patrol to move an abandoned crate out of the road. Rakshen, the young black-haired guard accompanying her, could not understand why they were wasting so much time on something apparently harmless. “Because someone could trip over it in the dark,” Nivra replied. On the Commander's desk lay Reka's report: a cart with no recorded place of origin and three quays without incidents. Gammar read both pieces of news with equal attention. Rakshen offered to put the rest off until the change of watch. “For someone, the next watch has already begun,” Gammar said. Before shutting the door he looked at the cleared road. A night without commotion, he thought, often depended on small deeds that nobody would recount the next day.