Soldiers of Ice (23 page)

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Martine tried to swallow, then offered meekly, “I closed the rift and I’ve got your keystone.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, though I already knew about the rift. Both Elminster and I detected the change in the balance of things up here. What I want to know is the rest.”

Jazrac stared at her, waiting for her answer.

Martine suddenly remembered a prayer to Lady Tymora she’d learned when she was young. Unfortunately, the memory had come too late for her to use it.

“Astriphie died on the glacier,” Martine murmured. Her voice cracked as she thought of the hippogriff lying broken and gutted on the ice.

“Details, Martine, always details. Now, how did the beast die?”

Oh, gods, what do I tell him? That I pushed Astriphie too close to the geyser? Or should I leave that part out?

“Astriphie got caught in a windstorm at the rift and was blown out of the sky. The hippogriff died when we landed. I thought it was important to get as close to the rift as possible in order to get done quickly.” Martine found herself wringing her hands, feeling like an apprentice reciting her lessons.

“Hmmm” was Jazrac’s only comment. “Then what happened?”

The woman avoided the wizard’s unwavering gaze, looking instead at the wood grain in the bare walls. “Then I closed the rift, like you showed me. And then something caught me.” Martine hurried through the last part, vainly hoping Vii would overlook iix

“Something?” the senior Harper asked pointedly.

“It was a thing of ice and cold. It called itself Vreesar,”

Martine explained. ‘q’here was another creature with it. A mephit, I think. I killed it.”

“Hmmm.” This time the pause was longer and More profound.

“Some type of elemental, no doubt,” the wizard mur-

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mured to himself. “And did you kill this creature as well or send it back where it came fi.om as you were instructed?”

“I couldn’t §end it back, Jazrac. The rift was already closed.” Feeling frustrated at the impossibility of the question and the need to defend her actions, the woman carefully undid the top strings of her blouse and pulled it open to reveal her shoulder. Livid unhealed scars were etched lightninglike across her skin. ‘q’hat’s what the little one did to me. I’d crashed, I was half frozen, and I had broken a couple of ribs. I couldn’t fight it. It’s only by the luck of Tymora that I’m still alive. At least I dosed your rift for you.

fiad,” she added as she closed her blouse and furiously dug through her pouch, “I brought back your damned stone!

Isn’t that enough?” Biting back her words so she didn’t completely lose her temper, she slapped the stone onto a bare patch of the bed.

Jazrac shook his head. “I’m sorry, Martine,” he offered, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “I’m sorry, my dear, if this is unpleasant for you, but if you want to be a true Harper, then you must realize that the bare minimum is not enough. This creature—Vreesar, was it?—should have been dealt with. You should have called for help.”

“I didn’t have the chance,” she protested. “I was captured by the gnolls.” In her nervous state, she started to pace the small room like a caged cat.

‘`you were able to get me a message, young woman,” the wizard reminded her. “You could have added one word: ‘Help.’”

“‘Captured by gnolls’ wasn’t clear enough? It was all I could think of at the time.”

Jazrac grabbed her by the arm as she paced by. “You’re supposed to be a Harper. I can’t go running every time you have a little problem. You’re supposed to be able to take care of yourself.”

”You just said I should have called for help.” The wizard’s Soldiers of ice

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inconsistencies were maddening.

‘q’o deal with this Vreesar, not the gnolls. You did escape, after all. So what happened? And please remember the details.”

“I got away from Vreesar, but I was hurt and freezing.

When I came across the gnolls, I decided the best thing to do was surrender.” She found herself twisting her fingers again.

“Wise choice.”

“I managed to convince them not to kill me,” the woman continued, though she decided to leave out the business of her marriage.

Jazrac twiddled his beard. “So you tricked one into writing that message …. “

“I’heir shaman—Krote WordMaker. He’s my prisoner

now.”

“A gnoll shaman prisoner.., very interesting.” The wizard tapped the side of his sharp nose thoughtfully. “So how did you escape?”

Martine felt her shoulders tense. The creature—Vreesar—came off the glacier and kind of took over the tribe.” “Kind off..”

Martine took a deep breath. “He killed the chief and took his place. It’s a gnoll law. But then he wanted me to reopen the gate for him. I knew I couldn’t, so I escaped as soon as I could.”

The wizard scowled so that his fine goatee waggled

sharply at her. “So now he leads these gnolls? I assumed you used good judgment and could recognize true dangers fi.om inconvenience,” he said with cutting coolness. ‘qhis is bad. Your second letter didn’t say a thing about the elemental, did it?”

Martine turned away. “No, it didn’t,” she admitted.

‘hy not, Martine?”

Now was the painful part, she knew. “I was afraid to,” she I 80

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whispered as she turned back to face him. “I really wanted to do well, for everything to work out. I didn’t want you to think anything had gone wrong. Besides, it’s only one creature, and he can’t get back because you’ve got the keystone.”

“It’s never that simple, Martine,’ Jazrac snapped. “We can’t leave things like this.”

“Why not? Aren’t you the one who always told me that the Harpers can’t get involved in everything?” The ranger flipped her black bangs from her eyes. “This is just the sort of situation you used to tell me about. Vreesar doesn’t threaten the safety of the Dales, or even the Heartlands. It’s a local problem, and we don’t get involved in local problems-at least that’s what you used to tell me.”

Jazrac stood up tall with his arms crossed so that he ow-ered over her. “It’s not a local matter anymore, Martine.

You don’t understand,” he said flatly. “You’re involved, which means the Harpers are involved. We didn’t let this Vreesar into our world, but because of you, the creature’s a threat to the safety of everyone who lives here. These gnomes, for example. True, you closed the riff, but what good is that if the results still destroy everyone in the vicinity?”

“Not much, I guess,” the ranger answered sheepishly.

“you shouldn’t have tried to hide things.” Jazrac’s chest rolled with a sigh. “Simply put, this has jeopardized your career. Yes, you’ve handled the mission, but not well. Not only that, I vouched for you before the others, and now you’re making me look like a fool.” He thrust a long finger in her direction irritably. “Now we have no choice. We’ve got to straighten out this mess and, gods forbid, hope there isn’t any More trouble.”

Feeling miserable and humiliated, Martine sank onto the bedding in the middle of the floor. ‘Where is—more trouble, I mean,” she moaned, holding her face in her hands. “The gnolls have attacked, and now the Vani are going to war.”

“Wonderful!” Jazrac exclaimed, his voice filled with sarcasm.

“Well, then, my dear, we’d better get busy.” Assuming there was no More to discuss, the wizard began sorting through his unpacked possessions. “I’d like to talk with this shaman. Can that be arranged?”

Without looking up, Martine nodded numbly. “Someone—Vil or Turi maybe—can show you the way.”

“Vil, is iff” Jazrac murmured.

“He’s not my lover, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Martine said indignantly, her back stiffening. “Vil saved my life and has let me stay with him since.”

“Indeed.”

“Jazrac, don’t be such a prig.” The woman was too angry to be polite.

“You’re right. I’m being rude,” Jazrac said. %Vhat kind of man is he?”

Martine considered the question before offering an opinion.

“Trustworthy… decent… He says he was a paladin

of Torm.”

“Was? What happened?”

“Something about his god abandoning him. It was during the Time of Troubles.”

“Hmmm… yes, that would make sense.” Jazrac fastidiously straightened his doublet as he went to the door.

”Well, grab one of those chairs,” he instructed, pointing to the furniture heaped on the bed. “If we’re all going stay in one room, we’d better clear off that bed.”

Martine set to work numbly. By the time Vil returned, the tables and chairs were neatly placed against the wall of the hallway outside the room. The linens and quilts were divided into thirds. Two beds were laid out on the floor, while the small gnome bed was made up for the third. Vil took these new accommodations in stride.

For what little remained of the night, the trio slept, the 182

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two men sleeping on the floor while Martine curled up on the bed. It wasn’t gallantry that gave her the mattress; both men were far too tall to squeeze between the cramped head-and footboards. Even for Martine, it was hardly restful.

Although she was only five feet tall, that was still nearly two feet taller than the average gnome. It was only by curling up like a kitten that she was able fit on the bed.

By morning, the ranger had cramps from her neck to the base of her spine. Stretching, she heard the bones in her back pop and crack with every move, but she was grateful to stand upright. She watched enviously as Jazrac laced up his clean linen shirt, trimmed with Chessentian lacework.

The smell of town-laundered clothes was unmistakable after weeks of having to wash her own clothes in cold streams or not at all.

Catching her eye, the wizard nodded toward a pile of fabric near his bag. “I thought you might want those,” he said with deceptive casualness.

Curious, Martine went to investigate. “Jazrac, how could you know?” she exclaimed. First she held up a quilted smock, then a pair of woolen breeches, then linen blouses, and finally a long, thick gown. “Why, these are my own clothes! Where did you—” She stopped suddenly and her eyes narrowed. “You have been spying on me, haven’t you?

Somehow, with that crystal ball of yours, you’ve been watching me.”

Jazrac only laughed while Vil looked at the two of them in sleepy confusion.

“How much spying does it take to guess you’d need

clothes?” the wizard asked innocently. “I just asked Jhaele if you’d left anything at the inn that I could bring you.”

“Oh,” the woman said, her face reddening. “Would both of you please turn around so I can change?” As they faced the door, Martine took her time selecting an outfit, After so long, clean, proper-fitting clothes were almost a novelty; she was resolved to savor dressing in them.

“All done,” Martine finally called. When he saw her, Vil cocked his head in surprise. “Is that—uh—functional for fighting?” he queried, clearly suspect of her choice but at the same time taken aback by her appearance. After so many days wearing the same stained jerkins, Martine had deliberately chosen a tightly tailored smock that hugged her figure yet kept her warm.

“I’ll be fine, Vil. You’re just not used to women’s clothes.”

She smiled at the former paladin’s reaction, secretly flattered.

“Thank you for being concerned, though.” Impulsively she swooped over and gave him a quick kiss on the

cheek, flustering the man. “Now we’d better introduce Jazrac to our hosts.”

Finding their hosts didn’t take very long. Just outside the door, Marfine saw two pairs of eyes that looked up with her appearance. Round Turi and his leaner brother Jouka sat in the hallway on the two chairs Martine had removed from the room the night before. Turi’s glossy black braids swung loosely as he stared at them. Feet clomped as the pair stood to greet them.

“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.”

ˇ Jouka and Turi gaped openly at the wizard until the 184

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woodsman finally stammered, “Master Vii, will you-uh—give assurance for this person?”

Vii 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.