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 havr 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, Martine 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."
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.