Umbrella

He found her the next evening under the only dry doorway on Lantern Street, holding an umbrella she was not using. The rain had opinions about doorways.

“You followed,” she said.

“You left a debt half paid. I don’t like half.”

She offered the umbrella without offering peace. They walked. Under the paper, the city sounded smaller. She told him the duel had been posted once, then pulled down, because the name on the other side belonged to a house that paid the clerks.

“So the rain is the clerk now,” Seo said.

“The rain doesn’t take bribes.” She glanced at his sword. “Neither do you. That is inconvenient for everyone, including me.” At the end of the street she closed the umbrella, though the rain had not stopped, and gave it to him. “Bring it back when you are ready to finish. Don’t bring an audience.”