Deep in the hills of the eastern border of Lerata nestled the tiny village of Dorf. It was a self-contained little village, accustomed to having its own way in everything. It’s remoteness shielded it from the influence of kings, whether good or bad, and so Dorf felt very much like its own tiny world. At least, that is the way it seemed to Ronald Leen. He was one of the two waresmen that ever visited Dorf. As he walked down the quaint main street, leading his pack mule, he felt that the rest of Lerata could not be farther away. “Woe, Elroy,” Ronald called to his mule. The mule stopped patiently in front of the town’s main store. Ronald looped the lead rope over the hitching post and strode into the store, his bowed legs stamping out each step like a marching band. “You look mighty fresh for a man that’s come from out-of-town,” commented Tatum, owner of the general store, peering over the counter at the newcomer. Ronald grinned. “Why, yes. Yes,