Featherwench

    "You're a hard drake to get a hold of, Duke."     The voice was male, with that oddly crisp way of speaking words that hinted at military training.      Almost like they hate to waste air and time , the jewel thief thought, amused, and glanced at his old friend and mentor. Marshall was eyeing the newcomer thoughtfully: not drawing his saber yet, but there was no flicker of recognition either.     Duke turned, almost casually handing the lockpick he held to Cutter and studying the interruption.     He didn't recognize the drake, but he looked like something out of an army recruitment manual, right down to the tattooed stripe across his...