by Pete Prown
* * *
“That went well, I think,” whispered the bookmaster as they strolled down the lane.
“Better than that, I should say,” chimed Mr. Timmo. “Your observations, Dorro, were bloody brilliant.”
“I must agree, Winderiver—that was some damn fine detective work”
“Thank you all.” The Sheriff rarely conveyed compliments, and when he did, Dorro swelled with pride. “It was a most peculiar case, and I had a devil of time figuring it out.”
“I think the Mayor should give you an award for this one!” chirped Mr. Timmo. “Of course, I’d ask to make it. A medallion or trophy, perhaps. I’d give him a good price!”
“I know something that I am suddenly without—a silver pocket watch. It was taken by the Dwarf Seer as the price for her knowledge, and I am bereft without it. Even if it’s not a prize, I will happily pay you for a new one, Timmo.”
“Wonderful—I’ll work up some new designs immediately.” Timmo exchanged looks with the Sheriff. No words were said, yet the look in Forgo’s eyes clearly meant:
We’ll twist the Mayor’s arm until he pays for the watch. Even if we have to break it!