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.
"Human, get away from there!" Jouka snapped. Mindful she was only a guest, but still curious, Martine started to close the shutter but kept her eye glued to the peephole. Squinting, she strained against the sun-dazzled snow to make out anything clearly. A frosty morning haze hung over the berry canes at the meadow's edge.
Martine could hear Jouka's grumbling grow louder with every passing second, and she was about to give up when she spotted a movement among the canes. "Jouka, look there," she whispered eagerly as she stepped aside. "By that uprooted pine."
The gnome pressed his eye to the slot. "I don't see you mean the big white thing?"
The ranger nodded. Wreesar."
The rasping horn blew again, sounding louder through the opening. Standing next to the distant elemental was a gnoll blowing a curved horn. The winter wind whipped the gnoll's ragged clothes.
"It followed you here!" Jouka accused Martine as Elder Sumalo stepped forward to have a look.
"Not me," Martine said with a shake of her head. "I've never used this entrance. Buri, perhaps."
Jouka grunted, unwilling to divert the blame. "You brought them to this valley," he insisted.
The Harper couldn't deny that. The accusation reminded her of Jazrac's words last night. In solving one problem for the Harpers, she'd created another, and it was just as much her duty to solve this one.
"We should hear what Vreesar has to say," the woman said when Jouka gave no orders to open the gate.
The dour little man snorted. "There is nothing to say. I say we kill it when it comes closer."
Martine's first reaction to the gnome's suggestion was that it would solve the problem, and in the instant when words come before thought, she almost agreed aloud. How
ever, second thoughts followed, and she recoiled at what she had almost done.
"No, Jouka. The woman speaks wisely. We must hear the creature out," Elder Sumalo said disapprovingly. "Heikko, open the door."
The golden-bearded warrior nodded and shot back the massive bolt in its track. Martine, Jouka, and Sumalo fell back among the ranks of gnomes as the gate swung inward, releasing a shower of icy chunks from the bank overhead. The hardened snow shattered on the wooden floor and lay there to crackle underfoot. Warmth fled the hallway, fluttering the long beards of the little warriors braced for attack.
Across the snowfield, the elemental stood hunched and motionless at the edge of the woods. Behind him, in clusters of two or three, Martine saw in the haze the phantoms of Burnt Fur warriors among the brambles and trees. Like the elemental, they did not move.
"People of the dirt!" the elemental croaked in its peculiar buzzing accent. "I am Vreesar, prince of ice and master of the Burnt Fur. Who speakz for the little dirt people?"
Without hesitation, Elder Sumalo stepped from the line of militia advanced to the doorway. "I am Elder Sumalo. I speak for the Vani." The old gnome's normally thin voice penetrated the distance across the clearing with authority.
The elemental's icicled brow flared in the sunlight, and it cocked its head to survey the small figure that faced him. "Su-ma-lo," the creature said with difficulty, shaping the soft syllables with its harsh lips. "Su-ma-lo," it repeated, striding across the snow. "Come out and we will talk."
"Watch for any sign of treachery," the priest said softly to Jouka. The warrior nodded, then motioned several spearmen to the edge of the door where they had a clear view.
The old priest waded through the drifted path to the center of the small field between the warren and the woods, where the elemental already stood. Barely had they met when the elemental pointed toward the entrance. "The female comez, too," it shrilled. Martine realized its icy finger was pointed at her. Jouka eyed her darkly, suspicious of the link between the woman and the fiend.
Unbuckling her sword, Martine joined Sumalo on the frozen meadow. Away from the shelter of the doors, the wind blasted her cheeks and cut through the light clothing she wore.
"Speaker of the Vani, listen to me," Vreesar was saying as Martine approached. "Give me the woman and the stone she haz stolen, and I will leave you in peace. She waz Hakk'z mate, and now she iz mine. She stole the stone from Hakk."
Sumalo stared up at the towering elemental. 'Mere are far more stones in the earth than Vani. I do not know which one you mean."
"The woman knowz! Ask her," Vreesar hissed, voice crackling with frost. The creature squatted down till its angular face was level with the old priest's.
The tired veins on Sumalo's neck traced blue-black lines as the priest tensed. His eyes narrowed, the gnome turned to the Harper. "What does he mean, Martine of Sembia?"
"It was a rock I found on the glacier," the Harper lied. "I don't have it now. Last I saw it was in the chieftain's lodge." Suddenly she was thankful for the cold, for her shivering disguised her trembles of fear.
"Liez! I know it iz the key! That iz why you stole it, human!" The elemental almost reached for her, then restrained itself, perhaps deterred by the line of spear points behind her.
Martine trembled. Damn! The creature knows! I was too obvious. I can't let it get the stone. "I don't have it," she repeated fiercely.
Vreesar changed his tactics. "My slavez say, `People of the dirt hate the Burnt Fur. You must lead uz in war against
them.' But I, Vreesar, do not want war. You do not want war. I give you thiz chance to make peace, Su-ma-lo. Do not be tricked by thiz human. She haz the stone. Give them both to me." The creature's icy face crackled in expectation.
"Me woman is our guest. I will not break the laws of the warren."