Graham Rowat

The four horsemen were coming.

Jacob could see them from the dirty window, and while he sat behind the bar and served ale to whatever wretched customers might want any, he pondered what these visitors might be doing here.

Nobody came to the town of Halleck for any small reason.

The desert journey from town to town was a long and arduous trek, especially if one didn't have a wagon, and few people in the 35 municipalities of the Copper Desert had horses, let alone wagons.

And so, it ended up that each town was cut off from the rest almost entirely, marooned in the sandy sea.

Small tricklings of trade arrived at Halleck once in a while, but their last shipment of horse jerky, fresh water, and bullets for the constable was two days ago.

They weren't expecting another trade any time soon.

And yet, four men rode towards the town in four billowing dust clouds.

When Jacob squinted, he saw they were dressed in colorful, foppish garb.

They wore suits, each a different color, and Jacob could make out the outline of four hats, rakishly cocked on each head.

Jacob shrugged and got back to his work.

The four men would arrive soon, and then he could find out their reasons for being there, and maybe sell them some ale.

These folks looked rich, with their fast horses and bright suits.

Maybe they were wandering tradesmen, coming with wares from one of the richer towns.

Or maybe they were silvermen, sent by the church to convert Halleck to the silver flock.

Well, Halleck did not need that.

It was plenty devout as it was.

Jacob wasn't the most pious man around, but he did his dues for the hooded lady, going to the rickety chapel in the town square twice a week.

Still, he wasn't quite as pious as even the most blasphemous silverman.

For one thing, he wasn't chaste and pure the way they were supposed to be.