Tales of the Dragon's Bard, Volume 1: Eventide by Tracy Hickman, Laura Hickman Page B

and with the sure authority of Xander Lamplighter, the Constable Pro Tempore of Eventide, who will explain the dire threat to any who mentions a pixie in his presence. They look innocent enough, he will readily concede, with their tiny stature and their opalescent, translucent wings. Their lithe forms have a ready grace that larger folk envy, and they seem to have perpetual smiles on their eternally young faces.
    But if you were to look closer behind that smile—and Xander cautions you fervently to never get that close—you would see mischievous, wanton, and malicious thoughts brewing constantly in their miniature brains.
    Xander’s arrival in Eventide was—as Ariela Soliandrus, the town’s Gossip Fairy, often put it—the most fortuitous of events. Eventide, having never before in its history had a problem with a pixie infestation, had been suddenly overrun by the malicious creatures, who were causing havoc all about the town at the close of each day. Pigs’ bladders filled with the most horrific-smelling solutions, stolen from Lucius’s tannery south of town, rained down on unsuspecting ladies on Cobblestone Street, bursting against their heads and drenching them in smells that no amount of applied powders or perfumes would eradicate for several days. Jep Walters was stuck in one of his own barrels while a nasty group of pixies made a game of chasing Livinia—one of the town’s most distinguished ladies—about her husband’s cooper shop and tallying scores over which of them could get her to screech the loudest. Joaquim Taylor’s entire stock of linens was ruined when the pixies painted patterns on each bolt with paint stolen from Mordechai Charon’s stockroom. Deniva Kolyan’s bakery was completely covered in a sticky paste of wheat flour. Town councils were held, speeches were made, and plans were agreed upon, but nothing, it seemed, would abate the escalating spree of the pixies. There was even talk of trying a broken wish from the wishing well, but no one was certain how a broken wish would react with a pixie. Sunset became a time of fear, for it heralded the coming of the pixies once more.
    No one questioned their good fortune when Xander happened to arrive five days into the plague, walking down the road from Meade with the intention of plying his lamplighting skills in Eventide. He inquired as to why the townsfolk were so upset and, upon being informed of the infestation, humbly offered his services as an expert pixie catcher, should the town be willing to provide him with a bounty of fifty gold pieces, discounted from sixty-five. Xander was a large, somewhat overweight man, and there were many at the time who questioned how such an individual might catch the spry and elusive pixies. However, as Ward Klum offered to keep the fee in trust until Xander proved himself, the bargain was struck. The exhausted and discouraged citizens of Eventide managed to collect the bounty and lock it safely in the charge of the countinghouse. That night the townspeople gathered in trepidation at their doors, the flame of hope flickering feebly in their hearts.
    Xander did not disappoint. As the pixies swept into town from the road to Meade, Xander stood his ground in Trader’s Square, his knapsack at his feet. He reached down and pulled out what appeared to be the long horn of a steer that had been polished, its large end stopped with a bright brass plug. A fipple notch was cut at the back, wide end, with holes made down the length of the horn. Ariela flitted about, informing everyone that it was called a gemshorn even as Xander raised the instrument to his lips.
    Xander blew softly into the flibble of the gemshorn, his thick fingers dancing along the length of the instrument. A soft, haunting tone came out, forming a simple, repeating melody with its rising and falling notes.
    To the astonishment of the townspeople, the pixies flew directly at him and then settled into an undulating circle drifting above his head. As more