enough to collect whatever reward the council decides to give you, for it is probably all you will take home with you from Tyr.”
He rejoined his men, and they turned to march back to the central market district. Sorak stared up at the dilapidated inn for a long moment, then gazed down the street, looking toward the gaming house.
“Why ask for trouble?” Eyron said. “You heard what the captain said. We stand to lose everything we have.”
“On the other hand,” said Sorak, “we might also win.”
“Zalcor said the games are not always honest,” Eyron added.
“True, he did say that,” Sorak replied. “However, we have certain advantages in that regard, do we not, Guardian?”
“I could detect dishonesty,” she said, “and we will not find the Veiled Alliance by sitting in a room, alone.”
“My thoughts, precisely,” Sorak said. “And if the city guard does not patrol the elven market district, then what better place to find them?”
“I want to go!” Kivara said. “It sounds like fun!”
“It sounds dangerous, to me,” said Eyron.
The others kept their peace, leaving Sorak to decide. He thought about it only for a moment, then started walking toward the Crystal Spider.
Approaching the gates, Sorak ignored the beggars, who whined pitifully and held out their hands toward him, and he ignored the women who posed and beckoned to him. Instead, he walked purposefully toward the gaming house, wondering what he would find inside.
The half-elf gatekeeper’s eyes grew wide when he saw Tigra. “Stop!” he said, quickly retreating behind the safety of the gate. “You cannot bring that wildcat in here!”
“He will harm no one,” Sorak said. “Am I to take your word?” the gatekeeper replied. “Forget it. The beast stays outside.”
“Tigra goes everywhere with me,” said Sorak. “Well, it isn’t coming in here!”
“I have money.” Sorak jingled his purse. “You could have the entire city treasury for all I care. You are still not coming in with that creature!”
“What seems to be the trouble, Ankor?” asked a sultry, female voice from the shadows behind the gatekeeper. Sorak saw a cloaked and hooded figure approaching from the inner courtyard.
“No trouble, my lady, merely a herdsman trying to get in with his beast,” the half-elf gatekeeper replied. “Beast? What sort of beast?” The cloaked figure approached the gate and looked through. “Great dragon! Is that a tigone?”
“He is my friend,” said Sorak, perceiving by the gatekeeper’s attitude that this woman was in some position of authority here. “I have raised him from a cub, and he obeys me implicitly. He would not harm anyone, I assure you, unless someone attempts to harm me.”
She pulled back her hood and stepped up to the gate to get a better look at Sorak. He, in turn, got a better look at her, and saw that she was a striking, half-elf female, as tall as he was, with long, lustrous, black hair framing her face and cascading down her shoulders, emerald-green eyes, and delicate, sharply pronounced features. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him, and she gave a tentative sniff, after which her eyes grew wider still.
“Halfling and elf?” she said, with astonishment.
“Yes, I am an elfling,” said Sorak.
“But… elves and halflings are enemies! I have never heard of elves and halflings mating. I did not even know they could!”
“It would seem that I am proof they can,” Sorak replied wryly.
“How fascinating! You must tell me more,” she said. “Ankor, let him in.”
“But… my lady…” the gatekeeper protested.
“Let him in, I said.” Her voice was like a whip crack, and the gatekeeper obeyed at once, keeping the iron gate between himself and Tigra as he swung it open.
“You are certain you can control the tigone?” she asked.
“Quite certain.”
“You had best be,” she replied, looking at Tigra warily. “Otherwise, I shall have the creature killed and hold you responsible for any damage it may cause to my establishment.”
“You are the owner, then?”
“Yes. I am called Krysta.”
Sorak smiled. “The crystal spider?”
She smiled back and took his arm as they walked down the paved pathway leading through the courtyard to the entrance of the gaming house. “What are you called, elfling?”
“Sorak.”
She raised her delicately arched eyebrows. “And do you?”
“Always walk alone? Not entirely. I have Tigra.”
Tigra,” she said, and the beast looked up at her. “It knows its name,” she said.
“Tigones are psionic cats,” said Sorak. “They are intelligent and quite perceptive. Tigra can read my thoughts.”
“How interesting. A shame he cannot speak, for I would ask him what you are thinking now.”
“I am thinking that I