Pixilated by Jane Atchley

opposite
direction to that taken by the stableman and clicked his tongue,
easing his horse into a smooth trot. Kayseri and Eldren trailed out
behind. Chana brought up the rear. As soon as they rounded the
corner, out of sight of the tavern Kree reigned in. Catching hold
of a low roof overhang, he lifted out of the saddle and flipped
heels-over-head onto the roof.
    "What are you doing?" Eldren demanded.
    Kree lay flat on his stomach grinning down
at the peevish elf. "Playing a hunch." As he crawled up to the
ridgepole, he could hear Kayseri and Eldren arguing about something
in the alley below. The low buzzing conversation pulled at the
edges of his concentration. He slid down a little way, so he could
sit up yet stay out of view. Resting his forearms on his knees, he
coughed very softly. They glance up, and he made a sharp cutting
gesture just below chin level with his thumb. Kayseri covered her
mouth with her hands and raised her pretty shoulders a fraction.
Her look said, "Oh, sorry." Eldren pursed his lips, his eyes were
pale icy blue slits of arrogant impatience, but he remained quiet.
Chana gave Kree a look that said plainly, "They're your problem.
You deal with them."
    The captain crawled back to the ridgepole.
From this vantage point, he could see the livery clearly. The
gap-toothed stableman emerged from his shack not five minutes later
and entered the barn. Kree grinned as he slid down the roof and
dropped onto Sirocco’s back. The horse, unused to such treatment,
reared in protest, but his sure hand brought the high-strung
stallion under control.
    "What did you see?" Kayseri asked as soon as
Kree moved up beside her.
    "Our helpful stableman just went into the
barn." He watched her nimble pixie mind work.
    Her eyes widened. "He’s going to warn the
squire."
    "That would be my guess."
    "Guess!" Eldren exploded. "Does it not occur
to you the man might be going about his work, and you are allowing
the real messenger to get away?"
    Kree turned to look into the elf’s too pale
eyes, he held on to his temper by a thread, applying years of
discipline to do so. Goddess! He loathed the haughty pointy-eared
prig. "No. It doesn't. If the real messenger is getting away, I am
a prince of Thallasi."
    From the corner of his eye, Kree saw Chana’s
lips twitch. To her credit, she smothered her smile with her hand.
He changed to a less combative tone. "Third law of campaigning is
always go with your gut. My gut has kept me alive in the field for
twenty years. I know that does not seem like much to someone like
you, but the thing is, Goddess nectar makes a man feel
indestructible. Consequently, we Goddess-born fellows tend to be
reckless impulsive types. Usually, we don’t get more than a year or
two in the field before death gobbles us up.
    "You asked me why troopers say be careful.
So I’ll tell you. When I was a lad, my recklessness convinced my
father I would not survive my teens. He told me to ‘be careful’
every time I left his sight. He meant, I should use my head for
something besides a battering ram, trust my gut, and stay out of
other people’s fights. My father said this because wanted me
to come home alive . It became a running joke around the
garrison, and now we say for luck.
    "Although, I never got the knack of staying
out of other people’s fights, which I’m guessing is lucky for you,
I did learn to use my head and trust my gut. If you want me to find
your princess, you are going to have to trust it too, because I’ll
tell you right now, Eldren, I intend to come home alive."
    Eldren did not appear the least convinced by
his explanation. The elf’s gaze shifted to Kayseri. "Do you believe
this?"
    "Trust him, Eldren. If there is a way to
save Sandahl, he will. Has he not said so?"
    Eldren made a sound as near a snort as Kree
had ever heard an elf make. Kayseri’s expression became pleading,
and something passed between Kayseri and the elf in which Kree had
no part. Jealousy burned through him.
    "You think