The warden got up, pacing in a slow circle on the dark wooden floor. Intentionally stepping with unbearable lightness, there wasn't even a creak. The only sound was the almost imperceptible rustle of his black robe. From Weetie's hissing breath the display of footwork wasn't lost on the captain.

"So, lets begin with an update on the fugitive." By the slight flicker of her eyes, she'd been hoping he wouldn't ask.

"Ssir, all we know iss how he got out. We found some poop-printss leading away from a ssewage drain. They were dried and old. He must have been missing for monthss before we knew he was gone, ssir. But the Akri are sscouring the wesst to find him."

"He went out through the sewage system? Why?"

"Couldn't ssay ssir!"

"Tell me you have at least blocked the exit?"

"Yess ssir!"

"How many months had he been missing before you finally noticed he was gone?"

"Impossible to tell ssir!"

"Give me a best guess then! Or are you too stupid to guess?"

"No ssir!" It took the simple mind of a warrior to answer a rhetorical question with a straight answer. "With the sseven monthss ssince we disscovered the esscape, he could've been gone more than a year at thiss point."

"It would seem that not even the dragon in Sakond herself is as capable as one would hope," he blasphemed, receiving the expected gasp from the bench of shame.

"It seems once again I'll have to do everything myself... Sweetie."

Keeping the lizard-woman waiting, he walked around the sparse office. If Herschel had been missing that long, perhaps he was no longer in the west. As fun as it was trash-talking the matriarchs to his guards, those six-legged creatures weren't incompetent. They would have found Herschel. The warden had once crossed the Khmur desert on foot, but he was a demi-god, and well-neigh immortal. Could a simple philosopher have replicated that feat?

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

"While you lizards," the word came with the extra contempt only available to those who believe in their own divinity, "have been bumbling around, I've cracked the case. He's moved on to the east."

"I will ssend word to prepare for an expanded ssearch."

"No need Sweetie, I will send word to your Lizard-queen myself! The Akri's service will for the moment not be needed."

"You can do that? You can send word to the dragon?" Weetie asked with awe.

"Oh yes, not only can I send word, I've met the dragon, had long conversations with her. Who do you think it was that named me an Afreet of the Akri?" The captain was shocked into silence.

This would have to be handled by other means. He would send word to his contacts among bounty hunters and the swamp-folk. But his real hope was the sorcerers. They'd proved surprisingly effective at finding people. He would send word to the knee-high headmaster in Pentakl. That he had another non-magickal individual for the list. That was if the angry peewee wanted any more of the warden's help. If it wasn't for him, the Xefef headmaster wouldn't even know about stonicism. The cornerstone of the Dwarf's plans.

"But perhaps there's something you can help me with Sweetie?" He smiled and pressed the tops of his scaled fingers together in a sinister looking gesture.

"I have a special mission for you--" he paused for some tense seconds, letting the captain roast over the coals of not knowing. "--I'm sending you on patrol to contact the Trolls on my behalf."

"Alone schir?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Schir please, not that, Schir!" Weetie looked sick, like he'd offered her a comforting hug. It was the first time she'd begged, but it wouldn't be the last.

"It has to be done, and you are the only one capable of satisfying my appetites in this case. If it helps, think of it as a reward for your years of dedicated service."

They both knew solitary patrol was a death sentence. Yet, only the warden knew exactly how it was carried out. It was such a shame all lizards tasted like chicken. He was sure Weetie could have swallowed any non-sexual harassment if it meant she could avoid being sent out. But he'd never been able to quit the habit of Vidanto, his first alias.

After she left he put his feet up on the desk and said, "it's time for Sweetie to make the supreme snackrifice."

Still, he had to remember what his old Kanspor trainer used to say: 'If you break too many of your toys too fast, you won't have anything left to play with!"