Thadeus Blackburr's mouth worked up and down, but no words came out. He stood stock-still behind a massive oak desk, and his rail-thin frame no longer looked imposing. The desk was covered in paperwork, and ledgers were stacked in tall piles. Like him, I expected them to fall over at any second.

  You try to do things right, be nice, and treat people with respect…until you run into a bureaucrat who doesn't like you. I didn't know why this guy had it out for me, except that Baron Swiftwood had tried to get me shut down, and he was somehow related to Thadeus.

  Sure, I felt vindicated after putting this man in his place, and the look on the guild leader's face was priceless, but what I really wanted was for him to stop throwing up red tape.

  "I…I don't know what to say," Thadeus said after looking over my badge and the papers now covering the desk's few rare empty spaces.

  The door behind him burst open. A young man in guild apprentice robes rushed in, clutching an envelope to his chest. He was breathing hard, and his face was flushed from exertion.

  "Master Blackburr," he panted, then lowered his voice, "uh, maybe you should read this. It arrived late last night."

  Thadeus stared at the envelope.

  "What? What is this?"

  The young man handed the envelope to Thadeus, who turned it over in his hands. I noticed the unmistakable seal of Swiftwood pressed into the wax on the back. Thadeus frowned, his thin lips pulling downward as he broke the seal.

  Frostfire, apparently bored with our bureaucratic standoff, wandered toward a display of guild medals, humming a tune under her breath. It took me a moment to recognize it as the bawdy drinking song Kieran had performed at the tavern a few nights ago. The melody was unmistakable, though thankfully, she wasn't singing the colorful lyrics about the farmer's daughter and a traveling paladin who had forsaken his vows.

  Thadeus shook the letter open and read it quietly, and his face gradually changed from annoyance to something resembling concern.

  "Well? What is it?" I asked him.

  "It’s…er…er…" He looked up at me and his features softened around the edges. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice lower than before. "Are you really helping Melisant?"

  "Mrs. Swiftwood?" I hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. "Yes," I replied honestly. "I've enlisted Elixander Brightstar's help to find a cure for her condition."

  The guild master's eyebrows couldn't have crawled any farther up his face. "The Elixander Brightstar?"

  "Are there two?"

  Thadeus pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, as if the weight of his thin frame had suddenly doubled. He quickly pulled out a small piece of paper and scribbled something on it, then handed it to the young apprentice.

  "Make copies of this and get them to Everspring immediately," he instructed. “This is a priority dispatch."

  I crossed my arms. "What exactly are you sending to Everspring?"

  Thadeus looked up; he appeared somewhat defeated. "I'm sending several birds to deliver this message. It is a command for the other guild members to cease trying to shutter the Shadow's Respite."

  "You'll leave the bard alone? That's a good idea," Frostfire chimed in from across the room, not bothering to look our way.

  I nodded. "Thank you, Thadeus."

  He sighed, removing his monocle to polish it with a handkerchief. "Melisant is my younger sister, whom I dearly love," he admitted. "When she married Bertram, I promised to look out for her interests. The baron turned out to be a rather decent man. He and I developed a friendship over the years." He replaced the monocle, blinking as he adjusted it. "When I heard she was ill, and Bertram was struggling with the finances for her treatments... I was just trying to help the baron become more profitable. It was a stupid scheme cooked up between us."

  "By shutting down my tavern," I said flatly.

  "The baron spoke highly of your establishment's success. He thought if your customers had nowhere else to go..." He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with his own explanation.

  I shook my head. "There are better ways to help people than hurting others, Thadeus."

  "You are right, of course." He straightened some papers on his desk. "Now. Is there really hope for Melisant?"

  "Elixander believes so. He's consulting with Forgepriests and a high-ranking cleric."

  "If anyone can help, it is he." Thadeus nodded slowly. "Then I am in your debt, Lord Commander. I will write a confession and submit myself to the king's justice."

  I sighed at his words. While it might have been satisfying to see this man spend a little time in jail and reflect on his deeds, I had no interest in pressing charges. Like the baron, this guy had been consumed with protecting Mrs. Swiftwood, and I had been the target of both men's misguided anger. Misguided, they had been, but I had other things to worry about now that I had a second tavern to watch over. Plus, what if I had to come back to testify or fly Lady Churl out to testify? That would be time-consuming, and it would raise more than a few eyebrows. I had no interest in promoting a scandal.

  "Ale and Ashes, Mr. Blackburn. Here's an idea. Don’t bother turning yourself over to the law. If I get back to Everspring and my tavern has not been touched, I'll let the whole thing go. But if something has happened, I will be back with my friend." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder toward Frostfire, who was busy blowing puffs of snow around the room to the delight of the other guild members.

  Thadeus looked at her, and the look on his face was not one of amusement. The look in his eye was fear.

  "I thank you, Lord Commander Vel'Naris.

  "Just so we're clear, this means the Shadow's Respite stays open without further interference, correct?"

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Yes," Thadeus confirmed. "You have my word. In fact, I'll give it to you in writing."

  I nodded at this.

  He removed a thick piece of parchment from one of the desk drawers and placed it on the desktop. The sheet featured the guild's logo in embossed gold. He wrote in a precise script. When he had finished, he handed me the sheet. I folded the document and put it in my inner pocket with my other papers.

  Thadeus remained in his chair, his thin face flushed with embarrassment as he fidgeted with his monocle.

  "Right. See you around, Mr. Blackburn." I tipped an imaginary hat in his direction. “Hopefully under much better circumstances."

  He quickly rose and bowed. "I look forward to that, Lord Commander."

  As Frostfire and I walked out into the bright Crownforge day, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. One problem solved, and in a way I hadn't expected. Sometimes understanding someone's motivations made all the difference.

  "That went well," Frostfire remarked. "So there's no need to turn into a dragon right now?"

  I laughed. "There's always next time."

  "Where to now?"

  "I have to make a stop, and then it's back to the palace," I said and turned to her. "Frostfire. You've been a good friend, and I want to thank you for taking the time to help us get to and from Crownforge. Would you be willing to fly us all back later today or tomorrow? Assuming Elixander has the cure ready."

  Frostfire clapped her hands and spun, and performed a pretty decent pirouette. "I would be delighted, Varix. I am always happy to help and to stretch my wings. That reminds me. Is it time to eat yet?"

  "We just ate, Frostfire."

  "Oh. Right. I guess I can wait a few more minutes."

  I strode away from the tavern guild with Frostfire. I removed the Lord Commander badge from my collar and shoved it into my pocket.

  The sun was high in the sky, and it beat down on us as we stepped into the busy streets of Crownforge. How blacksmiths worked in this heat was a mystery.

  "That was quite effective," Frostfire said, bouncing on her toes. "I especially liked it when you told him to change his undergarments."

  Dwarfs, a few elves, and several well-dressed humans flowed around us.

  I laughed. "I need to make one more stop before we head back."

  "Where are we going?" Frostfire asked, already distracted by a vendor selling candied nuts.

  "Just a small errand. Won't take long."

  We turned down a side street lined with specialty shops. Craftsmen displayed their wares in windows—leather goods, fine cloth, and exceptional-quality metalwork. We walked for another half an hour before I found the shop I was looking for.

  "If you want to wait here, I'll only be a minute," I told Frostfire.

  She nodded absently, her attention caught by a street performer juggling flaming batons a half block away. She took a step toward the man, then another.

  The shop's proprietor, an elderly dwarf with slim and nimble fingers, helped me select exactly what I needed. When I emerged fifteen minutes later, my coin purse was considerably lighter, but I had a small velvet pouch tucked securely in my inner pocket.

  "All done?" Frostfire asked, now munching on the candied nuts she'd purchased.

  "Yeah," I said, and stared at the candied nuts. "Um. Can I ask you a question?"

  "You just did." Frostfire smiled brightly.

  I laughed and said, "So I did. How did you pay for that? Do you have a way to carry money while you're in your dragon form?"

  "Oh no. I performed a trick for the vendor, and they were very nice to me and gave me this bag." She proffered the brown paper bag. "Want some?"

  I nodded, took a few, and enjoyed the sweet crunch. They'd added cinnamon and another flavor I had trouble nailing down. It was something like allspice, but sharper. It was the perfect contrast to the sugar.

  "A trick?"

  "Indeed. I gave them a little snow shower. They looked awfully warm."

  "That was kind of you." I nodded.

  "They thought so, even though some ran away. So. What's next?"

  I suppressed a chuckle. "Let's head back to the palace."

  "Excellent idea, friend Varix."

  We started walking, but after several turns, nothing looked familiar. The streets twisted unexpectedly, and the mountain loomed from different angles than I remembered.

  "I think we're lost," I admitted after our third wrong turn.

  Frostfire shrugged. "The city is beautiful, though, isn't it? Look at those window boxes! The flowers are arranged by color!"

  I couldn't help but smile at her endless enthusiasm. "Yes, but we should probably find the train station."

  We wandered for another twenty minutes before I spotted a familiar vendor standing under a large tent with thick wooden beams for support. "Wait, I know that place."

  The shop had boots and jackets on display, along with various clothing items with cleverly stitched patterns. It was the same shop where I'd purchased my swift boots.

  "Thank goodness," I muttered, heading toward the location of the boot maker and his wife, who I remembered were terrible at trying to complete each other's sentences.

  The gnomish shopkeeper looked up and squinted at me. "You look familiar."

  "I came by about a week ago and bought a pair of boots," I said, and lifted my pant leg to show one of them off.

  "Well, if it isn't the tavern owner from Everspring! How are those boots treating you?"

  "They work wonderfully and the craftsmanship is excellent," I replied, genuinely pleased to see him. "They've been helpful." Especially when I had worked in the dwarf kitchen.

  The gnomish man beamed as he set aside his tools. "Wonderful to hear! I infuse all my boots personally, you know. Been doing it for travelers for nearly forty years now."

  His wife popped her head up. "Hello, there."

  "Hello. I was just telling your husband how much I like the boots."

  The bootmaker put his hands on his hips and grinned proudly. "If they ever need repairs, you bring those boots straight back to me. I stand by my—"

  "—failures!" his wife interjected with a snort.

  "Creations, my sweet dumpling," he corrected with a sigh that ruffled his bushy green beard. "I was going to say creations."

  "Oh! Yes, that's what I meant, too," she said. "His boots never squeak or pinch, not like those terrible things that make your toes feel like—"

  "—royalty!" he interrupted, his face flushing. "She means they feel comfortable, like walking on clouds."

  "Exactly!" she exclaimed.

  "I will bring them back if anything goes wrong," I promised. "Can you help us? We're a bit turned around, and we’re trying to return to the train station."

  "Ah, don't feel bad about getting turned around." He chuckled and stroked his bushy green beard. "Many visitors lose their way in Crownforge. The streets follow the mountain's natural formations instead of—"

  "—instead of being straight as an arrow!" his wife cut in, swishing her finger. "Not like those human cities with their perfect little squares."

  "Rectangular grids, my honeybun," he corrected with a patient smile. "I was going to say our streets follow the mountain's veins, like water finding its path downhill."

  "That's what I meant!" She nodded vigorously. "Makes perfect sense to gnomes, but humans always look confused!"

  The husband pulled out a scrap of parchment and began sketching. "You'll want to take the left fork at the stone badger statue—"

  "—the right fork!" his wife insisted.

  "The left fork, my dumpling." He sighed. "The right fork leads to the mining district."

  "Oh! Yes, left it is. Unless you're wanting to buy pickaxes!" She grinned at us.

  "I don't need a pickaxe." I laughed.

  He finished his detailed little map and handed it over. "This should guide you straight to the nearest train station. Can't miss it. Have a great day!"