'Badgers would do as well,' said Rogate in a compromising tone.
'Scholar,' sighed Toede, 'do you want to separate them until they cool down?' Bunniswot did not respond. 'Scholar?'
Toede looked up to see Bunniswot staring at the borders of the clearing, his face a white mask of fear. Toede followed his terror-stricken gaze to the edge, where a great gnoll stood. As Toede watched, more gnolls stepped from the underbrush, in a ring that spread around the entire campsite.
Toede, reaching for the sword slung across his back, rose slowly from his position. He said out of the corner of his mouth, 'Friends of yours?'
Bunniswot shook his head slowly.
'Thought not,' muttered Toede as he pulled his sword from its back-scabbard. Rogate and Taywin were also on their feet, weapons drawn.
The gnolls regarded them in silence, seeming as tense as the rebellion members. Two of the largest gnolls approached Bunniswot and Toede. The two gnolls parted, to reveal an equally massive gnoll behind them, dressed in the armor and metal skullcap of a chieftain.
'Charka!' cried Toede. Bunniswot let out a groan, and Toede heard a dull thump behind him and to his right. He did not need to look back to know the young scholar was sprawled out in a dead faint.
At least he'll be quiet, thought the hobgoblin. 'Charka offers greetings to Toede, King of Little Dry Frogs!' Charka saluted.
'Is this a social call,' snarled Toede, puffing himself up as much as he could, 'or are you here to finish the job you attempted six months ago?'
Toede expected Charka to respond with a typical 'Hur?' but instead the gnoll said, 'Neither. We come to offer what aid we can.'
Toede's eyebrows shot up. 'That was almost a complete sentence, Charka.'
Behind him, Taywin was bringing Bunniswot out of his swoon, and convinced him that they were not all going to die. At least not just yet.
'Charka has been practicing,' the gnoll chief said, smiling. 'Charka has had help!'
A smaller, human figure, dressed in the quilted leathers of gnollish garb, stepped out from behind the gnoll, bowed slightly, and waved.
'Ah,' said Renders. 'Hello, everyone.' Bunniswot groaned and almost passed out again. Pity, thought Toede, the old boy was doing so well. 'Greetings, Chief Boils Flesh,' said Toede.
'Renders. Ah. Just Renders,' said the scholar. 'Charka and I worked on homonyms and multiple definitions early on.'
'Charka speak good now,' bellowed the gnoll. 'Well,' put in Renders.
'A hole in the ground that provides water,' defined Charka. 'Sort of a little bitty swamp.'
Renders gave Toede a shrug. 'Ah. There are still some rough spots.'
Toede still had his sword pointed at the gnolls and the human. He lowered it but did not sheathe the weapon.
'Forgive my confusion,' he said, 'but the last time I saw your people, Charka, they were being rolled over by a large, heavy object.'
'Yes.' Charka nodded. 'Night of the Flat Brothers, Charka remember it well. We had returned to our swamp to discuss your trick. Many said you fooled us, cheated us into believing scholars were powerful wizards. Some said we should attack scholars. Charka angry, too. Agreed with them. Then Renders arrived.'
'Ah,' put in Renders, 'I'm afraid I was very disappointed in Charka's behavior, and was going to give the gnoll a piece of my mind.'
'You're fortunate that Charka didn't leave pieces of your mind scattered throughout the swamp,' muttered Toede.
Charka frowned. 'Renders talk. Charka agree with Renders,' he said. 'Think that Toede told truth, that scholars were powerful. Not great in juju, but great in knowledge.'
'Ah,' added Renders, 'after all, Charka did like my stories.'
'Charka argue that scholars should stay,' said the gnoll. 'Brother gnolls disagreed, said Charka not fit for chiefdom. Throw-over Charka.'
'Overthrow,' corrected Renders.
'Over… throw,' said Charka carefully. 'Brother gnolls attacked and were crushed to putty by great machine. Taboo-area pillars destroyed, magic broken, no longer taboo. Other gnolls apologize to Charka, make Charka chief, Renders shaman.'
'Ah,' said Renders. 'They thought we summoned the Abyss-spawned creature that flattened the gnolls' attack. After a while, of course, we let it be known it was likely, ah, your doing, Toede.' The old scholar paused and added, 'It is Toede, isn't it?'
'The 'real Toede/ as people keep saying,' said Toede.
'I've been meaning to read your book,' said Renders.
'Perhaps another day,' said Toede. 'But Bunniswot didn't even know you two were alive, and you aren't the mysterious allies he was talking about. So why are you here?'
'Ah,' said Renders. 'Ah, well, we were also told to meet here.'
'By whom?' said Toede.
'By me,' said a sepulchral voice at the perimeter of the camp. A lone figure limped into the encampment.
It was humanoid and might once have been a man, for it had the required number of arms and legs and what would pass in most societies as a torso. However, the torso was lopsided, as if a large chunk of it had been removed under the left arm and then everything had been resewn back together. The skin of its hands was tightly pulled over a skeletal form, and its tightly drawn face was the color of water-stained parchment. The shadow of a skull could be glimpsed under the skin. As for its manner of dress, it was decked in once-resplendent robes and finery, now reduced to gray tatters dotted with fragmented gems. And it smelted like new earth disturbed by an open grave.
'Now that we are all here,' said the far-off necromancer, regarding the others through the zombie's empty eyes and forcing the words through the zombie's weak throat, 'we can begin this council of war.'
Contrary to what the necromancer stated, they were not 'all there,' even discounting the several participants in general (and Rogate in particular) who would never be 'all there.' The figure that appeared before members of the rebellion was a dead form, animated by the spells of the dark wizard. The necromancer moved its limbs like a puppeteer, drew only sufficient breath to strum the vocal cords, and saw the surrounding world through the zombie's now-rotted eyes. The necromancer himself was present only 'in spirit,' as it were. His body, mind, and soul were safely locked away in his distant tower, and only his 'mouthpiece' was seated among them in the garden of ruined ogre plinths.
Charka's gnoll followers were spooked by the living dead and removed themselves to the perimeter of the camp. This left Renders, Charka, the necromancer's zombie, Rogate, Taywin, Toede, and Bunniswot seated in a loose circle on overturned and partially crushed plinths. Bunniswot had recovered nicely and was now engaged in pleasant small talk with Renders.
'I must apologize for the mysterious nature of my manifestation,' wheezed the zombie, 'for I feared there would be…' The necromancer paused to choose his words carefully. 'Repercussions… if I had used one of my more obvious agents.'
'I must admit,' said Bunniswot, 'the individual who contacted me seemed more… lively.'
'Newly dead, he was,' said the necromancer, 'and the… victim… of a twisted neck. He would not have been necessary had I located the anomaly through my own efforts.'
'Animally?' asked Charka.
'Strangeness,' defined Renders. 'Something, ah, out of step with the rest of the universe.'
'Gee,' grumbled Toede to the assembled gnoll, kender, scholars, fanatic assassin, and zombie, 'what could be considered strange and out of step in this universe?'
Six sets of eyes (including the zombie's unfocused orbs) turned toward Toede.
'Thrice you have been slain, Highmaster,' said the zombie to Toede, 'each time in a drastic and irreconcilable way. Yet thrice you have been restored, unmarked and unscarred, and returned to life-through no
