Pixilated by Jane Atchley Read Free Book Online Page A

accommodation."
Accommodation. The word made him want to spit. He was a warrior not
a damn diplomat. All his instincts urged him to pound Malachite
into dust. Oh, how he longed for the good old days.
    He scooped his kit up and stood. They all
stood. They always did. He hated it.
    "That's all then. Sister Berl, welcome to
Qets Garrison. You’ll handle the administrative duties in my
absence." The sister’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and Kree
grinned. "You mistake me, Sister. Duncan has command. You'll be
handling day-to-day internal things. It'll give you a chance to see
how our garrison runs. Nadol will make you look efficient. The same
as he does for me."
    Everyone laughed.
    "I’ll see you people in a few days. Be
careful while I'm gone."
    "First chance we get," they responded in
unison. But Kree was already out the door. Their parting comments
followed him down the hall.
    "...so, that is our Goddess-born
captain."
    "Forget it, Berl."
    Kree’s lips twitched. Chana warned every
Sister posted to Qets off him. Sometimes it even worked, not often
but sometimes.
    The sky was clear and the sun was bright. It
was going to be a hellish hot day. Davi waited in the marshalling
yard with Sirocco. The horse was high anticipating exercise, and
the boy struggled to hold him. Davi wore a hangdog expression that
said he believed this whole sorry business with Kayseri was his
fault. Seeing him, Kree figured he would have to think up something
to rebuild the lad’s confidence.
    "Sirocco looks well, Davi. You’re taking
good care of him."
    "He is a devil horse, My Captain, but I do
my best."
    Kree handed his kit to the cadet. Beginning
with the right hoof, he checked the animal over with expert hands.
The admonition, be careful, was a longstanding garrison joke. He
was always careful. His command style might appear reckless, but
Kree never rode out without making sure his weapons, mount, and
gear were what they should be. He never allowed any of his people
to do so either. Sister Chana joined him in the yard, while he
inspected their gear.
    Satisfied Kree gave young Davi an approving
nod and drew him confidentially close. "Take charge of Nolie while
I’m gone. You are senior. See to it he stays on top of his lessons
and does all his chores." He winked. "Try to make him think it’s
fun."
    Davi squared his shoulders. "My Captain may
count on me."
    He touched his fist to the lad's chest. "I
never doubted it."
    Swinging effortlessly into the saddle, Kree
had barely touched Sirocco’s sensitive flanks before the gray
desert-bred stallion exploded into motion. Chana’s horse thudded
along behind.
    His fellows had laughed when Kree bought a
horse good for nothing but pleasure riding. They howled the first
cold winter when he had to build a heated stable for "Fawr’s Folly"
as they dubbed his stallion. But Kree understood selective
breeding. Hell, he was the product of it, and he recognized what
they did not. If he bred a third of Sirocco’s impulsion and stamina
into his stable, he would produce the finest cavalry horses the
Kingdoms had ever seen. No one would laugh then. They'd be lining
up to buy his horses.
    Thinking of horses made him think of
Kayseri. She and the elf needed another mount. The closest place to
get one was Tarburg a good-sized town on the northwest side of the
forest. It was a gamble, but one Chana agreed it was worth a try.
If they did not find their quarry there, they'd double back and
pick up the trail.
    They reached the town about four in the
afternoon. The houses and shops looked sound, indicating Tarburg
must have been a prosperous town at one time, but that time had
long passed. The place had a neglected air Kree could almost touch.
He asked a ragged man carrying a bundle of firewood on his back for
directions to the livery and received a hostile stare and leftward
jerk of the head.
    At the livery, Kree received more hostile
stares and surly answers. "No, I ain’t seen no elves. Hope never
to," said the