Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 77

PART TWO
That evening, as the sky dimmed and the city
brightened, the pair re-emerged. Abrodail’s hair
now hung in a loosened braid, while the child
pranced along as energetically as ever. Khellus
held back in the shadows as they passed, and then
slipped into their footsteps. They walked without
fear through the dwindling foot traffic until, half
an hour later, they reached a more domestic stretch
of city blocks. There, small homes nestled side by
side, replacing shopfronts with cosier abodes, where
candles, lanterns, and faelights flickered in the windows. Children darted about, but Abrodail’s daughter didn’t join them. Instead, she watched the play
with a distant curiosity, as if uncertain what these
other laughing, scampering creatures might be.
At last, they reached one home with a clay-tiled
roof and a green door. Abrodail and the child went
inside, leaving Khellus to ponder his next move
from across the street. Her husband didn’t appear
home, so he’d need to time this well. The fewer

involved, the better.
Choosing the straightforward approach, he strode
up to the door and knocked. After a moment, footsteps pattered up. The latch clicked and the door
opened a few inches, enough to let one of the girl’s
dark eyes peer up at him.
“Hello,” she said in the serious manner of a child.
“Who are you?”
He tried for a harmless smile. “Hello. I’m an old
friend of your mother’s.”
Her face scrunched up. “No you aren’t.”
Khellus raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
“’Cause mommy’s friends are all nice, and you
don’t look nice.”
He crouched, arms on his knees. She didn’t draw
back, though she remained clinging to the latch.
“Sometimes,” he said, “nice-looking people aren’t,