Hounded

the steel thermos since the faery could not, and rose from his chair. He took the flask from the kobold; he gave the steel thermos in exchange, careful not to touch the faery with it. The kobold grinned wickedly and melted back into the bag with his prize.
    The parties did not shake hands and wish each other well. Goibhniu casually took a step toward the fence and stretched out his hand, dangling the golden flask out into space. This, apparently, was a signal. The gnomes shouted » Rathskeller! « in a decidedly un-elvish register, ceased all pretense of being Santa’s helpers, and sprinted off the stage, much to the confusion of Santa and much to the trauma of all the good little boys and girls.
    Sweet! He’s giving the hooch right back to the gnomes! He’s totally screwing the kobold!
    › Are gods allowed to do that? ‹
    Gods can screw anything and anybody. For reference, see history .
    The faery’s jaw dropped as he saw the gnomes rushing his way, their noses red and their mustaches aquiver with righteous fury. The kobold’s dark silhouette popped out of the bag briefly to see what was going on and his loud cry of dismay shuddered through the square. Clearly he and the faery were as surprised as I to see gnomes mixing with humans. People stopped in their tracks, shut their mouths, and turned to stare as the elves charged the fence of San Felipe’s. The kobold screeched at the faery to flee in Old High German, a raspy, keening noise that scraped across the nerves and yanked everybody out of their happy place. Nobody could see what was making that noise, and I’m fairly certain nobody wanted to see it. Children began to scream, and the first fingers of panic began to trace shivering paths down the spines of the adults. The faery bolted for the exit as Goibhniu grinned at Clan Rathskeller. The gnome who’d been helping Santa took possession of the Draught of Unending Strength, and they all bowed in thanks to him.
    Goibhniu said something to them—probably » you’re welcome « —and bid them farewell with a wave. He vaulted the fence effortlessly and began to jog west toward the bookstore, the direction from whence he came, leaving his untouched drink on the table. The gnomes formed a wedge and began to trot around San Felipe’s fence to cut off the faery and Kohleherz. I didn’t think they’d make it; the faery was almost to the door, and then he’d head south for the parking lot. There was no way those short gnomish legs could keep up with the strides of a long-legged faery. The kobold would get away if I didn’t intervene—and I had good reasons to let it go. It really wasn’t my affair, for one thing. And I had a good gig going here: I’d managed to stay in one place for more than ten years, I had a thriving business, and no one suspected that I was older than three major religions and spoke forty-two languages. If I stuck my nose into this and either the faery or the kobold escaped, I’d have to work hard to disappear again.
    On the other hand, I knew I’d feel guilty if I let the kobold go. They possessed a profound lack of redeeming features, from all I’d ever heard or read. They were kind of like mosquitoes that way—they’re pests capable of inflicting serious harm, and whenever I see one I have to kill it as a community service. Pompeii, if the stories were true, hadn’t been a natural eruption, but spawned by a trio of kobolds who had a beef with a warlock in the town. It was lucky for us that they rarely bothered with humans.
    Stay there , I told Oberon. I’m going to make sure the bad guys don’t get away .
    › Okay, but if somebody drops a muffin and it disappears you can’t blame me. ‹
    Fine, but you’re not allowed to help them drop it . I spread my wings and sailed silently toward the entrance to San Felipe’s just as the faery and his malevolent friend burst through it. They collided with a mother and her two children making their way toward the stage, bowling them over and forever associating Santa with violent falls in the minds of those poor kids. The faery quickly found his legs again and put them to excellent use as the wailing began. Clan Rathskeller turned the corner and spied him, but a quick glance told me that they’d never close the distance without some help.
    I wondered what their escape plan was as the faery ran south and the kobold surveyed their pursuit, his coal-black eyes peeking out from the top of the sack. Indeed, why had they chosen Tempe to