"Masters Jouka and Turi," Vilheim said as he ducked through the door and entered the hall. "I want you to meet Jazrac of-"

"Mage of Saerloon,° the wizard offered as he emerged from the room. The two gnomes blinked with surprise at seeing yet another human in their midst

"I apologize for appearing unannounced, but the hour was late when I arrived last night," Jazrac said in a rich gnomish accent, showing his familiarity with the small race. He bowed deeply to the gnomes, his lace sleeve nearly sweeping the floor. "I ask for your tolerance and hospitality and hope that I can repay you with any service at my power."

Jouka and Turi gaped openly at the wizard until the woodsman finally stammered, "Master Vil, will you-uhgive assurance for this person?"

Vil sucked his cheek as he considered the request, not particularly eager to stake his word on someone unknown to him.

"I will be the model of behavior," Jazrac assured them. With no small reluctance, Vilheim nodded. The gnomes seemed satisfied.

"I understand there is a gnoll prisoner being held here," Jazrac said, not one to be timid. "I would appreciate it if I could see him. Can someone show me the way?"

Behind the wizard, Martine could only marvel at how quickly the wizard made himself at home. "I know the way, Jazrac," she offered, but the wizard shook his head.

"It would be best if you reflected on your actions up to now, my dear," the wizard whispered. "I think one of the things you need is more time for contemplation." With that, the wizard prevailed upon Turi to act as his guide.

The pudgy gnome, a crafter of magical illusions by trade, was intrigued by the opportunity to talk with the human wizard and the pair of them disappeared down the hall, engrossed in conversation.

"I invite you, Master Vilheim, to meet with the council regarding matters that concern you as well as us," Jouka gruffly announced once he had regained his composure. "You have a home in our valley, so it is right that you join us." It was clear from Jouka's invitation that it extended only to Vil. The warrior could hardly refuse, and soon he and the gnomes also left, leaving Martine alone. Upset, she returned to the room.

Clannngg!!

A steel helm ricocheted off the bedpost and skittered across the floor, propelled by the sharp kick of a hard-shod foot

"Damn that man!" The oath followed hard on the rattling

clank of the still-spinning helmet. "The nerve the utter gall!" Martine launched into a string of invectives, dredging up the choicest insults she had learned in her years along the coasts of the Inner Sea. It was fortunate the wizard wasn't present to hear her curse his ancestry, his wit, and especially his prowess.

' It was so like him, Martine knew. If there was anything that bothered her most among Jazrac's many irritating qualities his condescension, his smugness, his superiority it was Jazrac's consummate ability to thrust himself to the forefront in every situation. He was egotistical, overbearing, even childish, but most of all Jazrac had the talent to transform even the most mundane action to a mystery that captivated others even as it infuriated her.

"Wizards!" she fumed, as if that explained everything that bothered her about Jazrac's behavior.

As she sat in imposed contemplation, Martine doubted she was learning whatever lesson it was that Jazrac wanted her to learn. Instead, all she could think about was how close she had come, years ago, to being her mentor's lover. She had been considerably younger then, and Jazrac had seemed urbane and dashing. It seemed as if he had traveled to every exotic place she had longed to see and had tasted, touched, and seen things the young ranger could only imagine. She had been thoroughly infatuated with him. The thought appalled her now.

Still, Martine had to acknowledge a certain basic decency in the man. Naive as she had been, the wizard had always been gentlemanly toward her. He had never taken advantage of her and had always told her honestly what he thought was best for her career. Although his manner was infuriating, the wizard had always cared about her.

The longer she sat, the stranger the turns her contemplation took. Her anger at Jazrac became anger at herself. She had let him down, even though she had completed the mis-

sion. The wizard had a right to be angry with her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant blaring noise that sounded dully through the halls. It was a curious noise, one of those sounds that Martine was certain was familiar, yet she couldn't place it. She ignored it until it happened again, proving it wasn't just a freak occurrence. She went out into the hall to investigate.

The blaring note sounded again, tapering off like a wailing child. It sounded like a huntsman calling his hounds, like a huntsman's…

"Horn!" Martine blurted suddenly. "Someone's outside sounding a horn." Grabbing her gear from the room, she sprinted down the wooden hall, trying to remember the way to the main chamber. Just as she was beginning to think she was lost, the ranger rounded a corner and almost tripped over Jouka, rushing in her direction. Instinctively the two sprang back, both reaching for their blades, before realizing exactly what was happening. Hurrying behind the gnome came Vil, towering over the rest of the gnomes of the council.

The fierce look fled from Jouka's bearded face as he recognized the human. "The south doors, everyone! Quickly!" Without waiting for a reply, Jouka sprinted past Martine and down the hall.

The Harper seized on the chance to follow before anyone could object to her presence. She knew she wasn't supposed to be part of this council assembly, but she assumed his words just now negated that restriction.

Led by Jouka, Martine, and Vil, the gnomes hurried through corridors lit by cold flames and passed through doors so low that even Martine, hardly tall by human standards, had to duck her head. Other gnomes they encountered, startled by this strange entourage, shouted questions as they passed. Martine couldn't make out the hurried replies. Elder Sumalo soon fell far back, his legs showing

his age. As they ran, more Vani men joined them, spears and short swords in hand.

At last they poured into the great foyer at the south entrance to the warren. The passage was built without regard for humans, and Martine found it impossible to stand upright. The low ceiling made her feel uncomfortable. She noted that Vil was forced to crouch on the floor.

Sumalo; with Turi in his wake, pushed his way through the throng to join Jouka at the front of the group. Looking back, Martine saw the colorful flash of Jazrac's doublet: "Jazrac!" she shouted, trying to let the wizard know she was here.

From the inside, the exit was an elegant work of simplicity, consisting of closely fitted panels of polished pine, once blond though now golden-brown with age. Looking at the cracks in the doorposts and the worn floorboards, Martine judged they were in one of the oldest sections of the warren.

By now, a half-dozen gnomes had formed a rough line in response to Jouka's shouted commands. Their weapons were a mismatched assortment of whatever had been at hand. Martine noticed swords, spears, and axes, and one gnome even flourished a meat cleaver as he chattered eagerly in an accent so thick the Harper couldn't follow it. Jouka's sharp commands formed them into a rough rank that blocked the door. Curious children who had followed the group were herded back behind the line in case there was some danger.

While the gnomes were getting organized, Martine slid to the front to take the opportunity to scan the surface. Kneeling, she slid open the small peephole in the door. Dazzling light burst through the square opening and splayed across the worn floor, reflecting off the golden pine to brighten the entire chamber. A freezirig draft accompanied the sunbeam, as if to mock its warmth.