True Flame

By Bryan Fields

Some people just don't know when to stay dead…

Four centuries ago, Snow White led the combined armies of Human, Dwarven, and Dragonkind against the evil sorceress, Queen Umbra IV.  Together, the allies carried the day, and the newly-crowned Queen Snow presided at Umbra's execution.  Normally, that would have been the end of the matter.

Now, that hard-won peace is threatened.  When three Dragon eggs are stolen, Detectives Jennifer 'Red' Hood and Glinda Locke have less than two days to find the thief.  If they fail, the Dragons will burn an innocent Human village to ashes in retribution.  As time grows short and the body count rises, they discover the eggs are just part of a broader scheme.  Worse yet, all the evidence suggests that Umbra isn't as dead as everyone thought she was.

Armed with their wits and a lot of coffee, Red and Glinda set out to rescue the eggs, unravel the mystery, and prevent Happily Ever After from collapsing into a nightmare of blood and terror.

The hottest fire forges the best steel.  And Dragonfire is True Flame.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beasthold Books
• Release date: Dec 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781732416048

Bryan Fields

I grew up reading classical authors such as Verne, Burroughs, Wells, Haggard, and Lovecraft, often in conjunction with large doses of Monty Python, Wild Wild West, and Hee-Haw.  My current influences include Doctor Who, Girl Genius, and An Idiot Abroad.  I began writing professionally as a member of the content design team for the MMORPG Istaria: Chronicles of the Gifted.  My first book, Life With a Fire-Breathing Girlfriend, was published in 2014.  I live in Denver with my wife, Noelle, and daughter, Alissa.  The three of us can often be found prowling around Istaria, Wizard City, and the wilds of Azeroth.  I also make occasional side jaunts to scavenge bits of ancient technology in the radioactive ruins of Las Vegas, Washington, and the Boston Commonwealth. Requiem Bryan Fields passed away 9/11/2019 due to a brain tumor. His spirit lives on in his books.

Book preview

Coffee is Proof God Loves Police Officers

S it down, Weasel!

Red clamped down on Monty’s shoulder and squeezed.  Years of hard living and harder drugs had worn away whatever fat and muscle Monty once had, leaving nothing to cushion Red’s grip.  Monty yelped and cursed in Mustella, but the hisses and squeals were halfhearted at best.  Even through his vest, his patchy, mange-ridden pelt was sticky to her touch.  Red gritted her teeth and promised her hand a good scrubbing later. 

Monty sat.  That’s it.  I want an advocate, he muttered.

Red patted his shoulder.  "Monty, Monty, I told you this already: I’m your advocate!  I’m your biggest fan and I care about you more than anyone else in the shire.  Your own mother doesn’t care about you the way I do."  She sat down on the table in front of Monty and gave him her most reassuring smile. 

Monty looked up at her and snorted.  "You shouldn’t smile, Hood.  I’ve seen cobras look more convincing after they spit poison at me.  He threw his paws up in frustration and snarled, What more do you want from me?!  I’ve told you everything I know twice already!"  He bounced out of his chair and stretched up to his full four-and-a-half-foot height, whiskers bristling and tail puffed out.

Red leaned forward until she was nose to nose with him.  And you’re going to keep telling me everything until I’m satisfied the CA can trust you in the witness dock!  She held her ground, eyes blazing, until Monty looked away and dropped into his chair again.  His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head in resignation.  Red let him stew in silence while she walked over to a side table, where several leather tankards and a decanter of water waited.  She poured for both of them and returned to her seat, setting Monty’s tankard in front of him.  She took a long sip, waiting in silence until he also drank. 

She gave him another minute of quiet introspection while she pondered her next move.  For a brief moment she considered Sultry Flirty Tease, but his cobra comment and her gag reflex killed that idea.  I Feel Your Pain and Help Me Help You were both out; he’d never buy either one.  What about Big Sister?  Better, but still not quite right.  Mother, though...

The ache of loss surrounding the memory of her mother made her recollections easier.  Red focused on her mother’s expression, the way she carried herself, the heavy wooden spoon appearing out of thin air when she shouted at her children.  Red still had no idea how much her mother had paid to have the spoon enchanted, but she’d gotten her money’s worth from it. 

The memories of the spoon did the trick.  Red embraced the image of her mother and launched into Straighten Up and Fly Right.

"Face it, Monty, you’re a lousy witness.  You are a drug-pushing lowlife.  You look like crap.  You smell like rancid camel vomit.  You were buying drugs when you claim to have overheard the Schencks planning the break-in.  You didn’t turn them in until you got pinched for possession with intent.  Your credibility has more holes in it than your fur does and the defense is going to squash you flatter than horseshit under a beer wagon.  And yet, despite all that, you are our star witness."

Monty didn’t look up or contradict her.  She leaned forward to clasp his paws between her hands.  The gesture added the perfect touch of sincerity to her You’re My Child and I Love You speech.

However, all is not lost.  You have me on your side.  We are going to do this again until you are perfect.  Then, you are going to a nice safe location where you can take a bath with lots of soap, brush your teeth, and get fitted for some decent clothes.  By the time Chief Duncan gets back from the Mountainbrook embassy, you are going to pass for a trustworthy and upstanding citizen ready to do his part for Queen and Country, even if I have to break every bone in your body to do it.

Monty sighed.  Alright.  Let’s get this over with.

Red picked up her case journal, flipped to the front page, and slipped back into being Detective Hood.  Now.  Once more, from the top.  Where were you two nights ago?

Monty held his own, giving Red clear and respectful answers to her questions.  He didn’t try to downplay his own shady past or how he stood to benefit from testifying against the Schencks; thankfully, he wasn’t gloating over it, either. 

An hour later, Red closed her case journal and dropped it on the table.  I think you’re as ready as you’re going to get, Monty.  We’re done here.  Monty stared at her for a moment, wondering if this was another trick, before exhaling and slumping down in his chair. 

Finally!  He glowered at Red for all he was worth.  I told you I was ready to testify, Hood!  Sweet Burrowmother, I’ve been before the bench three dozen times!  I know what I’m doing.

Red nodded.  I’m sure you do, she said, opening the interrogation room door.  Two wary-looking men in street clothes and a sleek, muscular Otter carrying a waterproof gear bag entered the room.  The Otter displayed none of his people’s characteristic jocularity; his ears were tight against his skull and a jagged scar pulled his right lip up into a permanent sneer.  Monty straightened up and tried to cover up his worst patches of missing fur. 

Monty, these gentlemen are your protective detail.  They’re going to make sure you arrive at the arraignment tomorrow.  Officers Erik Mandell and Rutger Hauptmann, Victim/Witness Protection, and Detective Whitewater.  Gentlemen, may I introduce your protectee, Montague Yarrow.

Monty.  It’s Monty.  Nobody calls me Montague but my mother.  Monty looked around at the newcomers and managed a weak smile.  Is all this really necessary?  I mean, I’m flattered...

Whitewater cut him off.  Mr. Yarrow, you are a key witness in a capital murder case.  The Crown feels protecting you is indeed necessary.  Mandell and Hauptmann are responsible for clearing the areas we enter.  I am responsible for you.  You go nowhere without me, not even the privy.  If you try to run, I will break both your knees and you will testify in splints. 

Monty looked away.  Your mother was a honey badger, he muttered.

Yes, she was.  You should keep that in mind.  Whitewater leaned in for a closer look at Monty’s decrepit pelt.  His lips twisted into a sneer of revulsion as he noted the numerous blotches and parasitic infestations Monty was trying to hide. 

Change in plans, gentlemen.  Mr. Yarrow has a number of unwanted passengers on his person and we need to evict them before we do anything else.  Mandell, get something clean for him to wear and meet us at Silvertip Grooming on Ashberry.  It’s your lucky day, Mr. Yarrow; you’re about to get a first-class delousing at taxpayer expense.  Whitewater rummaged in his gear bag for a moment, then handed Monty an oilskin tarp.  I’m out of body bags, but this is better than nothing.  Put it on.  I’ll have someone burn it and your clothes while you’re getting dipped.

Monty stayed quiet, staring at his feet as Whitewater hustled him out the door.  Red waited until they passed through the doors at the far end of the hall, then grabbed her cloak clasp and invoked the decontamination enchantment.

Five minutes later, Red shouldered her office door open, plopped a stack of leather-bound portfolios onto her desk, and sank into her chair with a sigh.  She waved at Glinda with one hand and rubbed at the base of her neck with the other.  The tense spots moved down her back and settled just below her ribs, protected by her armor.  Red sighed and slumped forward, staring at her desk with her chin on the palm of her hand.

The crystal ball on her desk was giving off a soft yellow glow. 

Red grimaced but took out her message log.  She gave the globe a quick tap.  The glow faded, replaced by an image of her stepmother, Marilith.  She tapped it again.  The rest of the messages pertained to other cases she was working, but none were urgent enough to require an immediate response.  She took notes and deleted those messages.

When Marilith’s image came up again, Red left her fingers pressed against the globe.  She started to tell it to play the message, but the words wouldn’t come out.  Delete message, she muttered. 

Without looking up from her interrogation report, Locke said, I made a fresh pot of coffee when I heard Monty being hauled out of interrogation. 

Oh, thank you...  Red filled her mug from the gold carafe, added two lumps of sugar, and took a careful sip.  Ahhhhh...  I have so needed this. 

She started to take another drink, but Glinda’s stiff posture and the short, forceful scratching of her quill set off warning bells.  Red set her mug down.  Alright, she sighed.  Give me the bad news.

We received a discovery request from the Schencks’ advocate.

I thought they were asking for a mercy defense based on indigence.  Did they find someone willing to work for free?

Kazelka Hazin.  Locke all but spat the name out. 

Red’s jaw dropped.  I thought she only took civil rights cases.  She paused and her eyes narrowed.  She leaned in closer to Locke and asked, She’s not suing us, is she?

Locke shook her head.  I don’t know, but we shouldn’t rule it out.

Wonderful.  Red picked up the discovery request and read through it.  Odin’s balls... She wants all this before the hearing?  She’ll never have time to review it.

She wants us working all night and too messed up to testify.  That, at least, we don’t have to worry about.

Don’t even think about it.  Red poured more coffee into her mug.  I’ll survive the way cops always survive: coffee and pastries. 

Glinda laughed.  You’ll change your mind.

Don’t bet on it.  Red topped off her coffee cup and began reading through Granny Rukovskaya’s statement and the medical report on her injuries.

Before long, her feet were complaining and demanding release from their steel-encased bondage.  She set the report aside and stepped behind a screen tucked in the office’s back corner.  She laid out her armor in its case, then set a small wooden plate with a slice of soda bread and two thimbles of whisky on the case lid.  One of the hob-folk living in the building would take her offering in exchange for mending and cleaning her armor during the night. 

Red did a quick inventory of her belt pouches and the dimensional pockets in her cloak, topping off her supply of storm walnuts, bug bombs, sleeping grass, and blind peppers.  With her patrol gear ready for her next shift, she hung it up next to the armor case and started looking for something to wear to court.

Going through her clothing options didn’t take long; she only had two outfits.  Red settled on her conservative standby, a dark green tunic chased with gold knotwork.  It matched her eyes and made her look far more respectable than it had any right to.  

When Red emerged from behind the screen, Glinda whistled and made woo-woo noises.  Red gave her the Impudent Finger and buried herself inside a pile of paperwork. 

The late hour meant no interruptions from civilians or other officers, but it was still well past sunrise when they finished the last report.  Red looked at the clock and groaned.  Less than two hours.  Unless some kindly wizard has replaced Kazelka Hazin’s brain with a lump of moldy porridge, we’re toast.  She thumped her head against her desk.  Just kill me now, she muttered.  Spit me like a stag and throw me under a beer wagon.  It’ll be quicker.

Glinda stood, cracking her neck.  Sometime during the night, she had dressed for court as well.  She twisted from side to side, stretching, and picked up her stack of reports.  Come on.  Let’s get these to the Crown Accuser’s office, then hit Stonegarden’s for breakfast.  My treat.

Deal.  Red’s stomach rumbled in agreement.  She scooped up her reports and followed Locke to the Records Office.  Red smiled at the clerk as he checked her paperwork in, smiled as she signed three forms a total of eight times, and kept smiling until she and Locke left the police station.

As they crossed the street, Locke asked, What’s with that annoying grin?  You looked like you were choking on a wet ferret.

I didn’t want anyone to think I was rude or nasty.  That way they have no reason to waylay my paperwork.

Glinda snorted.  I never have to worry about that.

Yeah, well, I don’t have your kind and gentle demeanor.  Red stopped under the tavern’s sign and held the door for a group of Dwarven teamsters stomping off to work. 

Locke led the way, threading through the tavern patrons and up to a table against the far wall.  She turned one of the chairs sideways and sat with her back against the wall.  Not my fault.  Comes with the territory.  You know how people are terrified of blondes.

Red signaled the server for two breakfast platters and put the back of her chair against the wall as well.  Not as scared as they are of gingers.  Don’t you know we’re the cause of all bad luck and strife in the world?

All of it?

Oh, yes.  Just ask my stepmother.

The server set two platters of sausages, fried potatoes seasoned with eye-watering spices, and biscuits topped with fried eggs and gravy on the table.  Locke dropped twice the cost of the meal into the girl’s hand and got two tankards of honey-sweet iced mint tea in return.  By unspoken agreement, conversation stopped while both women devoured their meals.

Locke broke the silence first, letting out a belch loud enough to draw applause from the Dwarves at the next table. 

Not to be outdone, Red emptied her tankard and added her own belch, not loud but long.

In response, the cook leaned out the kitchen window, banging her ladle against an old and well-patched stewpot hanging from the ceiling.  Around the room, fists pounded tables in appreciation.   

Red leaned back and snickered.  One of these days, I want to do that at Morning Breezes in Whitehaven.  Ever been there?

Locke nodded.  Yes, but I’m not a fan of Elven food.

Me either.  Red held up a sausage on the end of her fork.  I like meat, and not as a seasoning.

Glad to hear that, good-looking.  A young bravo smiled at Red as he fingered the stag-antler hilt of his sword.  Under a week of trail dust, a bright mercenary’s guild badge gleamed on his new-bought armor.  He cocked an eyebrow and added, It’s nice to see a lass enjoying a good sausage.  Perhaps you’ll find mine as tasty...

Red put her fork down and looked at Glinda.  Did he really say that?

Glinda nodded.  Yep.

Red looked back to the youth and smiled.  Let me guess.  You just finished your first trail guard contract.  I’m going to say...it was the Running River cattle drive out of Austerity.  Your armor is clearly Azzak One-Ear’s work.  You bought it at the smithy across from the sell-sword’s hall using the guild discount voucher they gave you when you bought your membership.  Am I missing anything so far?

The bravo’s smile faded.  The rest of the tavern grew quiet, apart from a few scattered snickers.

Red kept her expression blank.  The only place on that road where you might have problems is the Whisky Creek crossing.  You wouldn’t be crowing like that unless the Sinking Sands tribe launched one of their raids and you saw some action.  But you didn’t actually chase them into the swamp, or you’d have sand muck up to your chest.  So, you crossed blades with an adolescent goblin or two, while the real veterans stayed with the cattle.

The snickers around the room grew louder.  The bravo glanced around the room and nodded.  It was...there were many warriors of the tribe.  It was a fearsome battle.

The snickers turned to scornful laughter.  The bravo flushed a deep scarlet and stepped forward.  I’m new to this life, true, and this battle may be of small water to many here.  But I will not meekly skulk away, wench.  Stand and answer for your words.

Red cut another slice of sausage.  Sit down, friend.  You gave offense and got mocked for it.  We’re even.  Join your friends, drink to your success, and learn what a Courtesan’s Guild badge looks like.  Just remember those ladies are less forgiving of insult than I am.

The bravo looked around the room but found no support.  He gave Red a nod and sat with his companions.

Red waited for him to turn away.  Glad he wised up.  I really didn’t want to have to arrest him.

Me either.  Locke chuckled.  At least I didn’t have to pretend to be your girlfriend again.

Oh, but you look so scary when you’re jealous.  Red downed her last sausage.  Sad thing is you’re the best date I’ve had in the past two years.

Locke snorted.  I don’t want to talk about how long it’s been for me.

Oh, come on.  I know guys have asked you out.  There was that rookie last week.

Oh, yes.  And another rookie last summer.  And another rookie two years ago, right after you got assigned to me. 

Red set her fork down.  Just rookies?  No one else?

No.  And all of them were convinced a poor scar-faced spinster like me would be so grateful for any shred of masculine companionship that I’d give myself up to them on the first date.

Bastards...  Red sighed, shaking her head.  Do we need to hurt someone for answers, or did you take care of that already? 

Bergan and Hoff, Locke muttered.  I already dealt with them.  I made a pile of breakfast rolls and told those two I’d saved them some out of a bunch Azagiry brought in.  They didn’t even question it, just dove right in.  When they got to the bottom of the pile, they found the recipe.

Oh, no...

I didn’t use anything poisonous.  Just lots of traditional Dark Elven ingredients.

Red’s stomach lurched.  You didn’t actually make them out of insects, did you?

What choice did I have?  They went with the mushrooms...

Red covered her mouth.  If you say yellowshelf, I’m going to be sick. 

Locke shrugged and took a drink.  I won’t say it, then.

Red looked away, closing her eyes and breathing through her nose until her stomach settled.  That is disgusting.

So was what they did.  Locke’s remaining eye narrowed, glittering like sunlight on glacial ice.  I told them if they said anything or did it again, we were going to settle matters in the sparring circle.  They decided not to make an issue of it.

Red placed her hand on Locke’s forearm.  Glinda, why didn’t you tell me?  I’m your partner.  And your friend.  I would have helped you-

There’s nothing you could have done.

"I could have pretended to be your girlfriend for a change."

Jennifer, be serious.

I am being serious.  The next time someone starts butting into your love life, they’re going to find out you have a crazy, jealous, ginger girlfriend.

Locke shook her head and patted Red’s hand.  I don’t think anyone will believe you, but, sure, why not.

Outside the bells of the city clocktower sounded the hour.  Red rubbed her eyes and sighed.  We should get to court.  Odin’s balls, I’m not ready for this.

Let’s get checked in, Locke replied.  I’ve got something that’ll help. 

Red stood and stretched.  Is it a gallon of coffee?

Locke grimaced.  Not exactly...

Beware of Trout

At the courthouse, Locke handed their weapons to the bailiff while Red filled out the logbook.  Is the Weasel here?

Red scanned up the list of signatures.  Yep.  Whitewater and two guys from victim/witness are with him.  Whitewater was going to take him to an Otter day spa or something to get his vermin looked at.  Hopefully it worked.  She stifled a yawn.  I wonder if the CA would hold off calling us until the afternoon session so we could get some sleep.

Very doubtful, sighed Locke.  She stopped in the middle of the hallway and loosened her left sleeve, revealing a delicate gold bracelet festooned with charms, amulets, and various other baubles.  She grasped one of the charms, a wide-mouthed fish with bulging eye, and pulled.  As soon as she did, the charm vanished, leaving her holding a mass of translucent, iridescent ooze shaped like a large fish. 

Red took a step back.  Oh, no.  Don’t you dare...

Locke slapped her across the face with it, then smacked it to her own forehead.

The impact was something akin to standing in an ice-cold, lemon scented waterfall.  A pervasive vigor swept Red’s fatigue away, leaving her horribly awake and clear-minded.  She grabbed Locke’s arm to steady herself, gasping for enough air to shout vulgar things about Locke’s parentage and personal habits. 

Locke shook her head and returned the fish to her bracelet.  Feel better?

I feel like striking a fellow officer! Red retorted.  I hate that thing!

The bailiff had his hand on his sword.  What is that...object?

"Prismatic Trout, Locke replied.  Some fool wizard with a hangover created it after a week-long bender.  One good slap and you’re no longer drunk, drugged, hung over, or tired."

Red snorted.  At least there’s only one of them.  She shook her head as well and took a moment to adjust her cloak.

Where in the Nine Hells did you find that? the bailiff asked.

Locke grinned.  The fool wizard’s estate sale.

The two of them made their way to the crowded courtroom and took their seats in the witness gallery.  Monty was already seated, though Red wouldn’t have recognized him if Whitewater hadn’t been sitting next to him.  His pelt wasn’t as full and lustrous as it should have been, but he was clean and his new suit covered up most of the hairless patches.  Hansel and Gretel Schenck were in the defendant’s dock, conferring with their hooded and cloaked advocate. 

Red leaned over to Locke and whispered, So how did this wizard die?

Locke snorted.  Knifed in the back by an exotic dancer.

The Black Widow Harem murders?

No, just a tragic juggling accident. 

Red’s response was lost as the clocktower atop city hall began to toll the hour.  The bailiff struck the butt of his halberd on the stone floor three times and called out, All rise and draw near who would beseech the justice of Her Majesty, Queen Ivory II, long may she reign!  May her benevolence, wisdom, and mercy guide these proceedings through the Office of her Servant, the Right Honorable Wherris Clinkenbeard!  

Judge Clinkenbeard entered the courtroom with a scowl and a gruff, Be seated.  Despite moving with the grace of a barrel with legs, neither his wig nor his beard dared sway even an inch out of line.  The venerable Dwarf took his seat behind the bench, glowering at the Crown Accuser.

Mister Moorland, you may take it as a matter of record that I am displeased in the extreme at your attempt to rearrange my docket!  This is a simple arraignment and does not involve any ‘special circumstances!’  I’m fining you 500 crowns for rank stupidity.  I’m also limiting you to calling your three primary witnesses.  You will be finished with your direct by noon.  Am I clear?

Moorland kept his tone and expression neutral.  Very clear, Your Honor.

Excellent.  The judge turned his attention to the defendants.  Does the defense have any issues needing to be addressed before we begin?

Kazelka Hazin paused a long moment before she responded.  We do, Your Honor.  The Dark Elf undid the clasp of her heavy cloak and stood.  Her periwig appeared just as pristine as Clinkenbeard’s, but stray wisps of her arctic hair showed how off-white the wig actually was.  Her eyes were burning red, glowing against her obsidian skin.  The light level in the courtroom must have been agonizing, but she neither flinched nor reached for her protective lenses. 

Hazin looked around the courtroom, making sure she had everyone’s attention before she began.  Your Honor, my clients are asking for all charges against them to be dismissed.  In addition, they request a full and unconditional Royal pardon for all prior crimes and offenses against the Crown. 

The reaction from the spectators was both immediate and hostile.  Judge Clinkenbeard’s gavel restored order, but he seemed just as angry as the onlookers had been.

Advocate Hazin, he growled, Can you give me a single, solitary reason for entertaining such an idea, even for a moment?  I do not tolerate theatrics in my courtroom, counsel, so you had best give me a reason not to cite you for contempt as well!

At once, Your Honor.  A small smile tugged at the edges of her mouth.  Perhaps Your Honor is aware the Governor of Cotswolding has declared a state of emergency and placed the county under martial law?  She seemed pleased by the shocked murmurs from the spectators and began playing up to them.  Perhaps Your Honor is also aware a full wing of True Flame, twenty-five battle-hardened Dragon warriors under the personal command of Korvoxusmotrekov the Pacifier herself, has surrounded the township of Dubbin’s Hollow and proclaimed Lex Talonis? 

Most of the spectators were standing and shouting for more details.  Locke remained seated, looking pale and stricken.  Judge Clinkenbeard pounded his gavel and bellowed while the bailiffs dealt with the most agitated members of the crowd.  It took several minutes to restore order; Hazin watched it all with a sardonic smirk.

Judge Clinkenbeard was teetering on the verge of apoplexy as he glared at Hazin and her clients.  Before he could erupt at the three of them, Hazin said, My clients know what the Dragons are looking for.  They are seeking three eggs, which were stolen and replaced with stones.

A sudden hush fell over the courtroom.  Even the judge was left speechless.  Red buried her face in her hands.  This can’t be happening, a little voice inside her wailed.

Hazin’s smile was cold and full of cruel delight, as though someone had just discovered she had populated their bedroll with scorpions.  My clients believe they know the whereabouts of these eggs.  If they are correct, they will be able to satisfy the claim of Lex Talonis and avert the wholesale slaughter of every living creature in and around Dubbin’s Hollow.  They will be saving hundreds of innocent people from Pacification...no.  This is not time to mince words.  From being burned alive in a mile-wide cyclone of dragonfire, or being hunted down and torn to ribbons, should they by some miracle survive the firestorm.

She placed a scroll in front of Accuser Moorland and handed a second copy to one of the bailiffs.  These are the terms my clients have set out.  They are not negotiable.  If they do not deliver the eggs as the contract requires, they agree to stipulate guilt to all charges and specifications the Crown wishes to bring against them, without contest or limitation.

Judge Clinkenbeard’s voice was a tight, hoarse whisper.  You cannot be serious.  How dare you seek to blackmail the Crown this way!  I should have the three of you executed for treason right now!

Dubbin’s Hollow will still die! Hazin shouted.  "And when the Dragons learn of the offer my clients made—which they will, I promise you!—they will seek vengeance here!  This city, and everyone in it, will!  Be!  Pacified!"

She turned to point at the horrified spectators behind her.  If anyone tries to run or seeks shelter with friends or family, the Dragons will extend the vendetta to those people and will slaughter them as well!

Moorland’s eyes were wide with terror as he looked towards the judge.  We don’t have a choice!  We have to give them what they want!

We don’t have to do spit! snarled the judge.  He banged his gavel once more.  This court finds ample evidence exists to proceed to trial against the accused.  Bail is denied while their motion is presented to the Crown.  Advocate Kazelka Hazin is declared in contempt of court and ordered to be incarcerated, save for her duties regarding this case now pending, for not less than two weeks.  Bailiff Archer, remove her at once!  Make sure she gets a nice comfortable cell with lots of sunlight.  Make a new window if you have to.  He banged his gavel again.  Court is adjourned.

Red stood up out of reflex, trying not to think about the Dark Elf’s dire predictions.  She shook her head as the bailiffs hustled Hansel and Gretel out of the courtroom.  Keep that damn trout handy, Glinda.  I think we’re going to need it.

Briefing Room, 09:22am

Red pulled her cloak close around her and wrapped both hands around her coffee mug.  Despite the light flooding in the row of windows, the briefing room felt cold and dark.  She glanced up at the walls and shivered, remembering the faces she’d seen on the slate-grey walls.  She could never remember the cases that had come to happy conclusions; the other ones she couldn’t forget.  She took a deep breath and focused on her coffee.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her reverie.  She looked up as Locke entered the room.  The room fell silent as the other four detectives did the same.

Locke looked around the room before speaking.  They accepted.

Red closed her eyes and sighed.  How long did they give us?

Locke hung up her cloak.  One full day starting with the next sunrise, as required by the treaty of Sentinel Ridge.  That gives us just over forty hours to find those eggs.  She dumped the dregs of yesterday’s coffee over the decorative shrub occupying the window and poured herself a fresh cup.

Coffee is bad for thistlebloom, Red noted.

This is a free kingdom.  It’s welcome to walk over to the nearest Nemeton and tell the Arch-Druid I’m committing plant abuse anytime it wants to.  She took a long drink before turning to address the room.

"Let me give you the good news first.  Kazelka Hazin’s threats aren’t as well founded as she thinks.  If the Schencks do know, or even think they know, where the eggs are, then Lex Talonis doesn’t apply.  It arises only when the community is unwilling or unable to produce a suspected Dragon slayer.  As long as the community cooperates, Lex Talonis is suspended for the duration of the investigation.  However, if the witnesses are lying or the suspect is a