them down.
Throughout the hall, the Vani, numb with relief, made their way through the tangle of discarded skis and swords to collapse in the quiet, dark corners of the hall. Sumalo hunched over the injured, his hands bloody from healing the worst of the wounded. A pair of spinsters in black dresses dictated the work of a team of womenfolk, who scurried after Sumalo with buckets of steaming water and linen bandages. Hot water and blood slopped across the shining floor, running in pink streams through the cracks between the boards.
'Vil,' Martine said urgently, 'we can't afford to rest yet.' Refusing to surrender to exhaustion, the Harper got her wobbly legs under her and strode among the spent gnomes, shaking them to action 'Get up! Come on, don't just lie there! You're not safe yet. Pick up your weapons.' Grumbling, the gnomes rose and tottered about, gathering their gear. Vil heaved to his feet and put those who were able to the task of bracing the door. Runners went in search of beams, hammers, and pegs to reinforce it.
'Where's your damned wizard friend, woman?' Jouka shouted as he pulled at Martine's sleeve. 'He killed my brother!'
Infuriated by the gnome's tone, Martine wrenched herself free from his grasp, almost impaling her arm on the
gnome's spiked breastplate. 'Let go of me! I haven't seen Jazrac, and he didn't kill your brother!'
'Fiend's fires he didn't,' Jouka swore, his prominent nose flaming red, his eyes wild with passion. 'Turi's not back yet. Nobody even saw him make it to the woods. Your friend should have warned us Vreesar was coming. He was in the rear.'
'I haven't seen him, you-you stupid little midget!' the Harper exploded. The fear and exhaustion of the day stoked her irritation with the gnome into fury until she had to lash out.
'Martine, Jouka! Now is not the time for this!' Vil thundered as he pushed himself between the two. 'Master Jouka, direct your people. They'll listen to you better than they will to me.' Separated from the Harper by the former paladin, the gnome growled angrily and bustled off.
'As for you, Martine, back off,' Vil said, grabbing her shoulders and steering her toward the inner doors. She quivered fiercely against his grasp. 'Turi's still out there. Jouka cares a lot for him.'
'Damn him!' the woman spat out, still not completely under control. 'I mean, damn it all. He's right. Where was Jazrac when we needed him?' The question hung without an answer.
'You need rest,' Vil said. 'Things seem under control here. Go get some sleep. I'll alert you if anything happens.' 'I'll stay here.'
'Go!' This time Vil's words were not a suggestion. 'Staying here will only provoke Jouka. Give him time to cool down. Get out of his sight.'
'What about Jazrac?'
'If you mean looking for him, forget it. We can't risk losing anyone else. He's on his own, just like Turi.' Vil didn't wait for her to agree but walked the woman a short way down the hall, heading in the direction of their room.
Eventually Martine found herself standing alone outside the small guest room. Although it wasn't her choice, sleep was a good idea right now. Opening the door, she ducked her head and stepped over the threshold. Inside, the magical tapers-had been covered and only the faintest light leaked through the hoods.
'Hello, Martine,' said Jazrac, his melancholy voice whispering softly from the gloom.
Martine slammed the door in shock. 'Jazrac, where in Cyric's hells have you been? What are you doing here?' Martine clenched the door handle, furious to see the wizard huddled on the bed before her.
Jazrac looked at her. His once imperious gaze was lost in the gray hollows of his eyes. The regally manicured goatee and perfect coiffure were in disarray; bits of pine needles clung to his graying hair and beard. Streaks of sweat and pine resin covered his face. With clothes stained and only half-laced, Jazrac looked more like a drunkard than the proud Harper she knew.
'Does anybody know you're here?' the woman hissed, her back against the door.
'No. I used a spell to get in,' the mage mumbled. Martine slowly crossed the room, still moving like a huntress. 'Jouka wants your hide. I'm not sure I blame him,' she said. 'What happened out there? The gnolls came right up behind us-right where you were supposed to be.' With a pained expression, the wizard leaned back and looked at the ceiling, avoiding Martine's unforgiving gaze. 'I… panicked.'
'What do you mean, you panicked?' she shouted in disbelief. There had to be a better reason, she knew. Jazrac was a powerful Harper, a wizard. He didn't panic.
'I mean I panicked, that's all! I ran!' Jazrac bellowed back, unleashing all his self-loathing on Martine. 'When I saw them coming, I couldn't do anything! I was afraid…
afraid of Vreesar and dying and all that, so I forgot everything and ran: Do you understand now? Is that clear enough for you? Didn't anybody ever run in your world-or did they all die gloriously?'
'You ran? How could you? You're a Harper-' 'I didn't want to die!'
'— and Harpers don't run!' They just never tell anyone!'
Jazrac's last statement stunned Martine into silence. TIM pair glared at each other across the room. Each shivered with passion, struggling to control the rage within.
Finally Jazrac spoke, his voice a pleading whisper. 'Martine, I could have been here in a day with my spells. Why do you think I sent you here?'
She shook her head furiously, as if to deny him any understanding.
'I'm not a warrior,' the man continued with a touch of sorrow in his voice. 'I'm not even a war wizard. I've spent my years reading scrolls and making magical artifacts, like the stones you used. I don't fight. So when something needs doing, I make whatever device is called for and then I send someone like you to take the risk.'
'You… you do that, and then you have the nerve to come up here and lecture me about what a true Harper should do?' Impulsively Martine stepped forward and slapped Jazrac hard across the face. Even as she did it, she cringed in horror at the realization of what she'd done. 'Oh, gods,' she breathed. Lingering respect mingled with the knowledge the wizard could still break her career.
A little of the imperious fire returned to the wizard as he sat up straight on the edge of the bed. 'And I was right, too. You know it.' His pride faded as the energy to hold it drained from him. He was no longer Jazrac, her mentor, or jazrac, the Harper, but just Jazrac, drained and flawed. Inside, Martine's anger cooled along with her old fearful respect.
'As I said before, Jouka wants your hide.' The ranger's voice was no longer angry but cold and flat. 'A lot of gnomes died in that ambush.'
'I know. I just don't know what to do.'
In silence, each sought an answer. Finally Martine held out her hand. 'Do you still have the stone? Give it to me.' His eyes furrowed in puzzled suspicion, Jazrac hesitated. Then, pulling a leather sack from under the bed, he produced the keystone and laid it in her hand. The rock appeared no different from before. It was still pitted and veined with its own internal fires.
The woman went to the door. 'Stay here till I come for you.
Outside, the ranger hurried down the halls, hoping she could remember the way. At last she arrived in the cold, dirt floored section that contained the animal pens. As she knelt beside a cage, she noticed Hakk's doll, still lying in the dirt where'd she thrown it. Carefully she brushed it off and pushed it back through the bars.
'Word-Maker?'
'I hear you, human,' echoed the shaman's hollow voice from the other side.
'Do your people want war with the Vani?' she asked. 'Ask the new chieftain of the Burnt Fur,' Krote replied bitterly.
'The pit fiends take Vreesar! I mean your tribe… would they make peace?'
'The pack has no quarrel with the little people.' Martine heard a scuffling in the straw, and then the dog-man slid into the light.
'If I give you the chance, can you convince your peopleyour pack-to make peace?' Martine squatted down to look Krote in the eyes.
'What do you want, female?' the gnoll growled. 'Will you?'
'Me price is my freedom,' the shaman insisted. 'Only if they agree,' Martine countered. 'Well?'
Krote licked his chops. 'I will try. They may not listen to me.'
