"Then write that you issued it broken."
The voice reached me before I entered the stores.
A girl stood at the counter with one hand resting on a padded wrist guard. A strap hung from it by a few tired threads. The clerk opposite her looked at the strap as if it had chosen a particularly inconvenient morning to fail.
"The stock is inspected before issue."
"Then someone needs to inspect the inspections."
Red hair, cut near her shoulders. A practical coat. Old scars visible on the arm she had planted on the counter.
Liora Ashveil.
I stopped behind the next person in line. I had known I would meet her here eventually. Apparently, eventually meant the morning after arrival, before I had even borrowed a sword.
She was looking at the clerk, not at me. The damaged guard belonged to a boy standing beside her with an equipment slip crumpled in one hand.
"I didn't pull it hard," he said.
"I know," Liora replied. "Don't keep explaining that."
The clerk picked up the guard.
