How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Seventeen

"Warlis? What in the hells are you doing here?" Prag considered stabbing the thief for looking so comfortable and clean shaven.

"Hey, Prag! I got here yesterday. I hitched a lift on a caravan." Warlis grinned, having won some kind of unspoken bet. "Got a nice bath and a change of clothes, too. You look like a loaf of burnt excrement. Where are your ladies?"

"I don't know," lied Prag. "My contract is up. I'm a free agent again."

"Probably for the best," mumbled Warlis through a mouthful of noodles. "I ran into Syd here last night. Seems he's looking to kill a puppy. It'd be a mess if there was a conflict of interest between you two."

Prag's eyes went cold and he lost his interest in food. "Which puppy? The one with two legs or the one with four?" 

"The one with fur." "Where is he?"

"Probably in his room at the inn down the street." Warlis was starting to look worried. "You aren't going to fight him, are you? You can't take on a sorcerer, at least not while he's awake."

"I'm just going to chat," said Prag, cocking his crossbow. "I'd hate for this to come to violence." Prag hopped off his seat and ambled down the street towards the lodging inn leaving Warlis alone to consider how far away he should be when the two of them started fighting again.

Kish lost sight of the boy as he entered town. She could follow his trail, however, as his footprints were much deeper than anyone else's. She trailed him through the darkened back alleys of town, praying to whatever god would listen that he wouldn't cause any trouble. She caught up to him in time to see him leap high into the air and start to descend down onto the unwary bird which had settled in the eaves of a house at the edge of town.

Syd was cool and confident as he strode towards the glade. There wasn't a lot in the world that scared a sorcerer, and an overgrown mutt certainly wasn't one of them. He had expected a long and arduous trek into the northern reaches of Desidan before he even had to start looking for the mongrel, but now it would seem that it had delivered itself to him. He had overheard a man talking about having seen a High Wolf in the woods just outside of town. It was entirely likely that he was mistaken, or that this was another wolf altogether. That was easy enough to test, though. "Tsukinokazé! Make peace with your ancestors and come meet your death!" He shouted with arrogant bluster.

Just as Syd had expected, the old wolf pawed out to the edge of the trees. His fur caught the bright light of the moon and he was ablaze with the weaving and swirling pattern of blue that marked him as a wolf of the highest birth. What was not expected was a young lady of noble birth stepping out with him. She was attractive, Syd thought, in the way that money makes women attractive. Her dress was corseted enough to give her a figure, her make-up was laid on thickly enough to cover any possible blemish, and her hair was cared for to a degree that would normally require the constant attention of two handmaidens. He decided that she would probably fetch a tidy ransom if he didn't accidentally kill her while fighting the mutt. Then she drew a short-spear from behind a tree and adjusted herself into a well-practised fighting stance. Syd decided that whoever her parents were would probably want rid of her. He had no taste for tomboys.

Cariolta wasn't quite sure what to make of the man that had called them out. He was an odd spectacle. He was lit as if he were standing in broad daylight, even though it was well past dark. His clothes looked like something one might wear to a masquerade ball: bright crimson and gold, with faux mystic runes running down the one sleeve and the other sleeve removed to expose his well-toned right arm. It was as though the man wanted to be sure that nobody ever mistook him for anything but a battle caster.