“Are you certain?” asked Frank. “I mean, it’s right there in his name. First two words: Never Dead.”

“He’s a man.” She spat out the word. “All men are mortal. Hence Ned must be mortal.”

“Not to fault your syllogism,” said Gabel, “but I’ve looked over his file.”

“What’s a syllogism?” asked Regina. She was in a quarrelsome mood and not willing to overlook a chance to be offended.

“A syllogism is a deductive scheme of formal argument consisting of a major and minor premise and a conclusion.”

Frank squinted skeptically at Gabel. “You’re making that up.”

“No, I’m not,” said Gabel. “It’s basic philosophy. I read it in a book.”

“Reading,” said Frank. “Not very orcish.”

Gabel pretended not to hear that.

Regina’s hard eyes glinted. “No man, mortal or immortal, is a match for an Amazon. He’ll die. We’ll find a way.”

The officers shared a chuckle.

Gabel stood. “I better get going. New commander arrives in fifteen minutes. His trusted first officer should be there to greet him.”

They shared a chuckle over that too. After he’d left, the remaining officers ordered another round.

“Syllogism, indeed. I still say he’s a goblin,” remarked Regina.

Frank shrugged. “Some people can never be comfortable with themselves.”

“Poor fools.”

Then the Amazon knocked a troll flat on his ass for daring to glance at her breasts.

Putting harnesses on rocs and using them as transports was an experiment in Brute’s Legion with mixed results. Gabel would’ve used titan dragonflies. They were easier to tame, easier to ride, even a little faster. The Higher Ups, whoever the hell was in charge of such things, wanted the regal, reptilian birds with their vibrant red and gold plumage, their fearsome shrieks. And that was how a perfectly good idea had gone to hell.