"Word-Maker, listen to me," she barely breathed, turning her attention back to the shaman. The gnoll shifted uneasily when he saw the knife. "Hold out your hands." Suspiciously Krote raised his bound wrists, and she set to sawing theropes apart "I'm letting you go."
"Why?" the gnoll demanded in a hoarse whisper.
"I want you to help me kill Vreesar." There was no point in trying to be clever.
The gnoll's eyes widened in disbelief "What did you say, human?"
"You're free. I'm letting you go-and I'm asking you to stay," Martine said as she continued to saw at the ropes. "I need your help to kill Vreesar. If you don't choose to give it, you can go out the door right now. I'll make sure the gnomes don't hurt you."
As the ropes fell away, the gnoll flexed his clawed fingers, which were purple and numb under his brown fur. "You trust me?" His voice was an incredulous snarling hiss.
"Yes." Martine did trust the gnoll, but for no reason that she could name. "You live for your honor, don't you?" "Yes," the shaman rumbled. "Why should I help you?" The Harper turned her attention to the ropes around his ankles. "I'm guessing you don't have much choice. As long as Vreesar lives, you can't go home."
The gnoll's lips parted in a wolfish grin: "Mahr-tin, you not like little ones. You think like gnolls. You are right. I help."
Martine nodded as she undid the coils around his feet It was the closest thing to a compliment she'd likely ever get from the shaman.
Helping Krote to his feet, Martine cleared her throat loudly until the noise roused the slumbering gnomes. As they stared up in astonishment at the unbound gnoll towering over them, Martine made her pronouncement. "I'm going to kill Vreesar and put an end to this. Who wants to come with me?"
Eighteen
An array of startled large-nosed faces, ~Ixk\ stared up at her. Fiery Jouka, his hand clutching the severed ropes, jumped to his feet
"Are you mad, woman? You've cut this beast free!" the gnome raged, his face florid in the dim light
"I've set him free," the Harper announced, staring down at the irate gnome. "He's chosen to help me."
A gasp of astonishment rose from the little men. Jouka sputtered. `That beast? How can it help?"
Martine laid a restraining hand on the gnoll. "For one thing, he's going to get me to the glacier. I have a plan." "Another of your plans! Will this one work any better than your other ones?" The gnome sneered.
"I don't know," Martine snapped. Disgusted, she turned to the others. "I don't absolutely need your help, but I'm asking anyway. If this works, Vreesar's dead and you can go home. If it fails-well, then I'm dead, but at least you're no worse off than you are now" Vil pushed his way to his feet. "I'll go. What's the plan?" Martine looked down at her audience. "Vreesar's gone back to the glacier to open the gate. Well ambush it when it gets there."
Jouka kicked a bucket in disgust. "An excellent plan! And how will you get there-fly? It takes a full day and night of hard skiing to reach the glacier, and this fiend has a full night's head start on you."
"Well teleport." "What?"
"We'll teleport there," she repeated firmly. "Jazrac had a ring. I can't use it, and you can't use it," Martine explained, pointing to Jouka, "but fm betting that Krote can. He uses magic like Jazrac did, so the ring should work for him."
"If you give him the ring, hell just run away."
The woman stepped aside, giving Krote a clear route to the door. "He could leave now if he wanted to."
The shaman seemed to relish being the subject of their argument. He smiled broadly. "Maybe I not help. Maybe I let little people all die."
The faces of the gnomes seemed to change color magically at his words. Some grew pale, while others turned red with indignation. 'Me shaman's words triggered a wave of discussion among the gnomes. In the heat of argument, the Vani all but forgot the presence of the humans or the gnoll. It was as if they were back in their council chambers at the warren. Only Jouka, indignant and inflexible, remained silent. He stood in his corner, spiked arms carefully folded over his spiked chest.
After some time, Ojakangas, the broad-chested carpenter, finally rose pretentiously and, in his best imitation of Elder Sumalo, pronounced the decision.
"You propose a great risk, Harper," Ojakangas announced, stroking his trim black beard. The gnome's voice was high and nasal, and if the situation had not been so serious,
Martine would have found it comical.
"But if you are willing to take this risk, we will allow it," the gnome continued. Martine wasn't aware the gnomes had any real say in the matter, but she kept her opinions to herself. There are conditions, however."
'Me woman set her hands on her hips. This was her plan, and she didn't care for the idea of the gnomes imposing any conditions. "Like what?"
'Me gnolls may still attack. If they do, we think it will be at dawn. We ask you to wait until after the sun has risen before leaving. Your enemy will still be far from the glacier then."
Martine pondered Okajangas's words, wondering if there was any trick. "Agreed," she finally said.
"Second, one of our people will go with you, to be sure that someone"-Ojakangas looked meaningfully at Krote"does not betray you."
"I welcome the aid, but who will it be?" Martine suspected the answer, but she couldn't refuse the gnomes on this.
"Jouka Tunkelo."
The Harper winced. Jouka looked up in furious surprise. "Me?„
"That is right, Brother Jouka," Ojakangas said sternly. 'Me council has decided."
The black armored warrior fumed but couldn't very well challenge the authority of his fellow gnomes. Instead, he snatched his thorny helm and stormed out of the cabin into the frozen compound.
With Jouka's departure, the gnomes began to chatter excitedly, warily circling their new ally. Krote stood stock still, his rag-wrapped arms folded over his chest, the sardonic smile still on his lips.
Martine pushed through the confusion of gnomes to Vil. "Why did they choose him? He hates the whole plan." The gnome logic was completely lost on her.
"Martine," Vil said with a chuckle, almost as amused as Krote by the outcome, "what other choice did they have? Think a minute. It allows Jouka to save face, and it gives you the best warrior they've got. Still, the look on Jouka's face…'
"Wonderful… just wonderful," Martine snapped, far from happy. "Excuse me, but we have some preparing to do. Come on." She led the way into the heart of Vil's cabin.
Inside, the pair picked their way through the carpet of gnomes, gathering supplies: Occasionally babies bawled and whimpered, only to be quickly hushed by their mothers, and here and there widows wept softly in the arms of a comforting relative or friend, but in general the room remained grimly silent. Silence settled over the two humans as they worked, contemplating the task that lay before them. Clearing a little floor space, they assembled their gear. The warrior produced two wicker packs and a mound of blankets from the small planked loft overhead, followed by sausages, hardtack, bundles of sugar, dried fruits, wax, whetstones, and a host of minor but necessary items. Vil fussed over the preparations, paying careful attention to each item selected. Only when he was satisfied did he finally pause to warm himself by the fire. "That should be enough," he said as he rubbed his chilled hands together. "We don't want to overload the packs."
Shouldering their gear, they carried the loads outside. Martine was startled to see a faint trace of dawn limning the mountain ridges. The whole night had passed by unnoticed. When was the last time she had slept more than a catnap? Two days ago? Three? She couldn't even remember.