CHAPTER 28The general snapped his gaze to where the drunk dragon was pointing. A man in his early twenties with blond hair, pale skin and blue eyes was frozen in horror, staring at them. He’d clearly heard them—the immortals were loud drunks.
“Are you saying that he smells like a spy?” the general hissed.
“My nose never lies. And neither does emotion.”
The man glanced uneasily between the general and Milorth.
“We should at least question him,” said Shoton, rising from the table.
The general joined him, his unit standing as one.
The man bolted.
“After him!” shouted the general.
“A chase!” yelled Sinnafain. “Oh, it’s a chase! Let’s join in!”
“Yeah!” the fae cheered.
“Don’t leave me behind!” bellowed Milorth.
The general ran after the man, out into the warm night air. The drunk fae
