Free Pixilated by Jane Atchley

squire’s
horses."
    "That is not true." Kree gave the man a flat
stare. "They were the squire’s horses. Now they are mine by right
of conquest unless you are challenging me."
    "Ah, nah, warrior. They’s yours, right
enough." The stableman’s nervous grin exposed stained broken teeth.
"I see you found yourself the elf and the woman you were asking
after. You’ll be moving on now, I warrant."
    "No. I have an urge to speak with the
squire."
    The man spread his hands wide in a
what-can-I-say gesture. "The squire is gone. Did the warrior want
the squire, he oughta seen him yesterday."
    Kree studied his fingernails. "I'll
wait."
    "The warrior might wait a long time."
    He tossed a copper lady to one of the
dirt-caked children. "We'll be in the inn. Bring me word when the
squire returns."
    Kree tied Sirocco to the hitching post and
crossed the dusty road, keeping to the slow lazy pace experience
taught him looked terrifying in big men. Dismounting quickly,
Kayseri and Eldren hurried after him. He held the door for them to
precede him into the inn, paused in the doorway, and turned back to
face the stableman who had followed them as far as the center of
the road.
    He forced enough volume into his soft voice
so it carried to the cluster of folks on the steps. "If you or
anyone else so much as touches one of my horses, I will cut off the
right hand of every man in this sad excuse for a town. Do I make
myself clear?"
    The stableman hid his grimy hands behind his
back and nodded vigorously.
    Inside, the inn was a pleasant surprise.
Given the town's sorry state, Kree expected sparse accommodations,
a common room where travelers might lay out a pallet or perhaps one
or two private rooms above stairs for the occasional important
guest. Instead, he found a polished oak sign-in desk flanked by a
graceful curving staircase. There was a large common dining room on
the right. Several smaller dining alcoves offered privacy to those
desiring it. He also noticed a sunny sitting room papered in bright
floral wallpaper through an arched opening to his left. The
hand-scraped oak floors, accented by fine Elharan carpets,
testified to Tarburg’s better days. What in the bloody hell
happened to this town?
    The balding man behind the desk wore in an
expensive bottle green coat, a bit frayed at the cuffs, true, but
finer than anything Kree had seen so far. A green velvet curtain
behind the innkeeper blocked the view to what were surely the man’s
residence and private entrance. Sweat beaded on the fellow’s shiny
pate. The poor innkeeper was as afraid to cross the trio entering
his establishment, as he was to cross the squire. It was not a
comfortable position. Kree almost felt a sorry for him.
    Eldren hurried to overtake him. "You would
cut off their hands."
    Cutting his eyes away from the innkeeper,
Kree met Eldren’s near colorless gaze. "I don’t make idle threats."
He chuckled when Eldren blanched; surprised the elf could be paler.
Who would believe it? "But I do play the odds, and I’d say the odds
of having to carry out that threat are about a million to one."
    He pushed past the elf prince, headed for
the man behind the desk, but Eldren dogged his steps. "But, you
would?"
    The register lay open on a craved swivel
platform. Kree turned it around and wrote on a pristine white page
without looking up. "It’s not going to happen, Eldren, but, yes I
would. I am a monster. You would do well to remember it." He stared
down at the register and muttered, "I could buy this town twice
over for the price of Sirocco alone." He raised his eyes to the
sweating innkeeper. "We'll take a room upstairs overlooking the
road."
    "I don’t think I have a vacancy, sir."
    Kree spun the register around so the man
could read it and slammed two gold ladies onto the counter with
enough force the innkeeper jumped. "Think again."
    The man took one look at his book and mopped
his brow with the towel he had been twisting with his hands. "Oh,
dear," he said, and scooped