//------------------------------// // Shoot the messenger // Story: Crystal heart // by A pensive Squirrel //------------------------------// As promised, the brass band stirred the sleepy streets, and whisked the mix that made the pancakes of the new day. Martingale led the musically talented specimens of Salem’s horde through the rows of terraced homes and avenues of tall bright green trees and sublime suburban stately homes. The guards disbanded from the castle gate and did as they were ordered, returning to their patrols, their posts and vantages, their overlooks and observation points. Let us not dither the days away with the King. There are other key faces and minds to learn in this tale. One of which will live to be Salem’s closest friend. Pretorias and his female compatriot Macedia were watching the mages guild from afar. Macedia was a rather rustic looking creature, her coat a tapioca brown and her eyes a bluish grey. “I hate how we must stake him out.” Pretorias turned to the fetching mare and sighed. “Our King is unsure of Quicksilver’s allegiance. He was the first to know of the murders, and that makes him a curious prospect.” “How so, you doubt his loyalty as well?” “It is suspicious that there has been no progress made with the rebuilding of the council. It is as though our svelte friend is purposefully avoiding the chore. It is speculation, thinking aloud, but he has been hard to track lately. We cannot rule it out.” Macedia was a divine creation if ever there was one. She had curves in all the right places and her muscles were toned and sculpted. Her wingspan was wide, and she locked strong, but at the same time delicate. This marvel of a mare flew from the perch where she had watched. Something had slipped by Pretorias’s radar, but not Macedia’s. He saw her midmorning sky coat fading into the cover of chimneys and rooftops and transplanted himself to where she was bound to land. “What’s the hurry, Macey? We’re monitoring his activity, not confronting him about it. If he’s up to no good then he won’t practice it if we stuff out noses in.” The Pegasus stopped in her tracks and hovered momentarily. She was after something, but what? “Has something got you antsy?” “Nothing of the sort, I was exercising.” “Oh sure, like when do you do anything without needing a reason?” “All the time, you just don’t know me as well as you think you do.” “We’ve been doing the same thing day in, day out. Do you really think there’s anything about you I don’t know?” “Seriously Pretor, what’s my birthday? Where was I born? What pet do I have? You should know these ones, they’re easy.” Pretorias studied the scene before him, the cordoned guildhall and the soldiers that trawled the area for trouble. Something attracted his piercing green eyes however; a colt was passing the guard detail without issue. It was no child. He had the stature of one. “I take it you sighted him too?” “Pardon me? Yes cousin, I believe I may have spotted our tail.” “What do you make of this coup?” “Enough of the conspiracies, it’s not so straightforward. He is still the messenger of the king; perhaps he is running his own enquiries.” She preferred Macey, her official title was dull. The pair of them ambled past the still grim innards of the building as they approached the checkpoint guard who had let the meagre colt through. “Cavaliers, front and centre!” Pretorias barked. “Uh, what are you going to get from this? This is routine, normal. Why must you be so paranoid?” Now peeved by the ignorance of the stallion detail, Pretorias made them bow with his superior sorcery. He gleamed as they bent down and begged at his hooves. “Guard, you are here to ensure the security of this site. Why have you let that stallion through without question? Our investigation is far from over. No one is exempt.” The stallion with the coat of paler grey grimaced as he fought against the spell. He forced his head around and craned his neck to face the paladin. “Why would the king’s serf do anything to harm the kingdom? I did not stop him because he is not a dragon.” “Racism is an unattractive thing to be, guard. Until all alibis are confirmed, we cannot be so flippant.” “What he’s trying to say…” Macey tried to correct. “Don’t undermine me. Okay, this is how we’ll sort this out. Have you let the messenger through before? You know, he was the first to discover the dead bodies. I do sincerely hope your loyalty is unwavering. Among our troops there has been talk of execution for the perversion of justice. Is a few back-payments here and there worth that much to you?” “I am sorry.” “For what, you admit to treachery? I’ll have you before a firing line.” “I am not sorry for that.” “Then why are you being so peculiar? I haven’t the time to waste with this. Macey, follow our friend and see what he’s up to. I’ll stay here.” The elegant Pegasus launched into the sky and trailed the target unseen. The guard broke free of the spell; his partner still enwrapped in it, and drew his shined spear in defence. “Commander Martingale had us posted here. We were meant for the perimeter but he charged us with safeguarding this place instead. He said that Salem’s…” “That’s King Sombra to you, worm.” “Regardless. A blind fool could figure this out. The deep lacerations, the violent self-destructive use of the victim’s own appendage dealing the final blow, and the doubtful statements of our scaled neighbours have led us to only one conclusion. This was either the work of dragons, or the work of our King.” “You retract that allegation! You will not castigate the face on our coin! I will be speaking to Martingale before today is done. Now answer my question, how many times?” “He was liaising with the forensic teams. He always rushed off, always had somewhere else to go. Said he was reporting to the king, that is was urgent, that we weren’t to ask why.” Pretorias pondered a moment and let the sequence of untruths filter through his mind. His lengthy horn vivaciously came alive with colours as he struck the unspeaking member of the duo down. “You repeatedly avoid the question at hand. How many times has he been tampering with the dead elders inside?” The guard bowed of his own volition and nodded in registering his mistake. “We were on duty last night. That was the first time. Since the break of dawn he has been visiting the scene, every time forbidding our curious natures. We wanted to know. He said that any disruptions with his work might impact the health of our families.” The paladin stopped and froze. A tear bade him cry but he fought it back, he stayed demure. The look of sadness still creased his perfect features, his mathematically tuned jawline and brow. He was beautiful to behold, but he was faulty like the rest. “Let this not leak. Quicksilver is a wanted stallion. He is the prime suspect in this case. He has been acting out of sorts and we have been unable to find him. Sorry, I’ve been unable. I forget myself when I’m alone. I just now spoke with the King, and he too hasn’t seen the messenger since yesterday noon.” Pretorias’s horn dimmed as he mercifully caught the wounded guard. “Forgive my preclusions gentlemen. Remember, this stays under wraps. You are to tell no one.” “We will do our utmost.” The guards responded in eerie symbiosis, as if two parts of the same organism. “What was that?” Pretorias demanded. “Mum’s the word.” The misunderstanding ended with the shaking of hooves. The injured guard brushed himself off and saluted. Through it all, the hierarchy stood. Pretorias trotted past the dawning din of the noisy things held by soldiers fat and thin. He left the grumbly commander in his wake as he tried to remember where his partner had flown. In some good fortune, the errand colt had not eluded them once more.