everyone's spirits light and cheerful. They stopped for lunch near where they had camped the last night on the trail. There were no charred remains left on the mountainside. One of them mentioned that the Unseen Protector must have removed all the bodies and even the gnome who swore he had seen the battle laughed.
Laughter turned to gurgles, blood spilling from his mouth, when a crossbow bolt pierced his throat. Another bolt sunk into the chest of the gnome across from him, followed by a missile of colored light that smote the gnome to the left.
The remaining gnome sprinted for his wagon, desperately wishing the Unseen Protector was real and would suddenly appear. He dived underneath and curled up in a ball next to one of the wheels, shaking in fear.
'Come out, little friend,' a voice called from somewhere out of sight. 'We want to talk.'
The gnome didn't move, but his eyes darted back and forth trying to locate the source of the voice. It sounded very familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. If it was a friend, he needed to warn them about the ambushers.
'You should find a place to hide,' he called out, 'we were just ambushed. They… they killed everyone else. The attackers could still be around.'
'We took care of them. You have nothing to worry about. Come, talk.'
'A-all right,' the gnome stammered as he crawled out from under the wagon. 'I'm coming out.'
Daikon's bodyguard dumped the last gnome beside the rest, lining them up in a row and rolling them onto their backs. Daikon returned from where they had left their cart and waved for everyone to gather around the bodies.
'Now that we have all the information we need to locate Ieirithymbul, along with the names and daily routines of enough gnomes who live there, it's time for the final act that will make our infiltration of the village possible.'
Daikon opened the bag he had gone to retrieve and pulled out a silver pendant with a crystal embedded in its center. He held it in front of them and they leaned in to get a closer look. The crystal was so clear he knew they could see their own reflections.
'I have three others like this,' Daikon continued. 'They were crafted by the Brotherhood and provided for us by the Archmage Arcane so that we could complete this task for him. When the wearer puts on the pendant, his form is altered to that which he first envisions in his mind. He keeps that form as long as he wears the pendant.'
'When I give you your pendant, I want you to first spend a few moments concentrating on one of these.' Daikon nudged the dead gnome nearest him. 'Once you have the image firmly in your mind, put the pendant on.'
When he was sure they understood, Daikon handed each a pendant and assigned them a gnome to study. He let the others go first to be sure they did it right. Each stood over their particular gnome for a few moments before slowly fastening the pendant around their necks. As they did, their forms shimmered and shrank until they resembled the gnome lying at their feet. After his assistant's transformation was complete, Daikon placed the final pendant around his neck and underwent his own.
'All right, we're finished with these,' he said, motioning to the bodies. 'Dump them in a ravine or something where they won't be found, along with our cart. Then let's load up in their wagons and get moving. It's still a few days ride until we get to the village.'
Burlmarr sat on a stool, hunkered over a spinning grinding wheel. He held the rough piece of quartz in his hands against the wheel to remove waste and give it the general shape one of the older apprentices used to practice the facet cuts Master Thintagast taught. He paused for a moment to allow Ambry thynn, a fellow apprentice who was furiously pumping the pedal that powered the grinder, to stop for a breath and pour water over the wheel. Through a window in the far wall, Burlmarr could see townsfolk passing by under the bright sun. It wasn't easy keeping his thoughts on the task at hand.
The caravan should be returning from Leilon any day now. Will everything be ready for the celebration in time?
'I know I'll be ready,' Burlmarr replied, keeping his eye on the quartz as the wheel wore it down. 'I just hope I don't get sick again.'
'Ready for what?' Ambry thynn asked between breaths.
'You asked me if I would be ready for the party the elders are going to throw when the caravan returns.'
'I did not.'
'Yes, you did. I heard…' Burlmarr looked up to see Ambrythynn's brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth turned up in a way that said he had no idea what Burlmarr was talking about. 'Never mind.'
I'm going to ask Lissa to marry me. I've already spoken to her father, and he's agreed to help build us a house if I complete my apprenticeship by next Greengrass.
'By Greengrass?' Burlmarr couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice. 'Don't you think that's a little soon, considering we both just started with Master Thintagast this past summer? Besides, I thought you had your eye on Maree Blimthalloon?' 'What are you talking about?'
'Ha, ha. That's a good joke, trying to make me think I'm hearing things. Don't worry, I won't tell Maree.' 'Tell Maree what?' 'That you like Lissa Boavartarr.' 'I don't. Who told you that?' 'You did, just now.' 'I did not.'
'It was funny the first time, Ambrythynn, but the act is getting old.' Burlmarr sat up and rubbed his temples with the hand not holding the quartz. 'I'm starting to get a headache and I want to get this done before we have to go home, so let's just get back to work.'
'Fine.' Ambrythynn frowned, but went back to pumping the pedal.
Halbrondell, your goat got into my cabbages, again! I've just about had it with that beast. I'm of half a mind to take it to the butcher as payment for the damages!
Burlmarr's head seemed to explode and the room spun like a child's toy. He crashed to the floor wretching.
'Burlmarr? Master Thintagast, something's wrong with Burlmarr!'
The voice sounded like Ambrythynn's, but it was very distant, and getting farther away. The pain in Burlmarr's head was unrelenting, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
When Burlmarr awoke, he found himself lying in a cot with Goodwife Thintagast seated at his side. Master Thintagast leaned over her shoulder, and all the apprentices crowded around behind him.
'Don't try to get up yet,' Goodwife Thintagast said, gently pushing Burlmarr back down as he atempted to sit up. 'You had a nasty fall, there. Fortunately, it seems your head was just as hard as the floor.'
Several snickers escaped from some of the apprentices.
'All right, everyone back to the shop,' Master Thintagast prodded. 'Looks like young Burlmarr is going to live. As for you,' he said turning back to Burlmarr, 'why don't you head home for the day.'
He smiled warmly and nodded before following the other apprentices.
Once he had proved to Goodwife Thintagast that he could stand on his own two feet for more than a few seconds, Burlmarr was sent on his way. He took the walk home slowly, stopping to sit when he felt out of breath or light-headed. It gave him time to consider what was happening to him.
The episodes had started almost a month ago, with increasing frequency as his fortieth birthday approached. For a moment, he wondered if it was some sort of family disease or curse, but all the relatives he could think of had lived long, healthy lives. He decided he would ask his mother, though, just to be sure.
As he neared his home, Burlmarr realized he'd never before fallen sick during the day. Most of the time it was at night, following particularly vivid dreams. Dreams about a dragon. About being a dragon.
Palarandusk hovered over the village green in the semisolid, invisible form that had kept him alive and active well past the years even dragons considered the twilight of life. That was, in part, a result of the many experiments he had been subjected to while enslaved to the Netherese sorcerer Mileirigath. But even that powerful magic was beginning to fail and he had, as of yet, been unable to recreate the combination of spells that originally altered him, his vast knowledge of the arcane, and the many tomes he had taken with him when the Empire of Netheril fell notwithstanding. Some stop-gap measures had been discovered, but most of those never worked more than once. One or two even had unexpected side effects. Well aware that any day may be his last, he remained diligent in his
