Pool of Radiance

8 Half-Gnoll

“You’re the priest. You tell us.” Ren waved his free hand toward the altar, clamped the gnoll’s neck a little tighter, and began to question the creature again. The gnoll was obviously responding to Ren’s questions, but Shal and Tarl could only look on, uncomprehending.

“He says there’s temples like this everywhere the Lord of the Ruins’ power reigns. He says the pool makes him feel strong.”

Ren paused as the gnoll grunted and continued with its explanation.

“What was that? Why you—!” Ren slammed the top of the gnoll’s head with his free hand.

“What?” Tarl and Shal reacted in unison.

“The filthy piece of dog meat said we’d all become sacrifices to the pool.”

“I can’t stomach any more of this,” Tarl said firmly. “As I serve Tyr, let this be the first of many such temples to be destroyed by my hand.” Without waiting for the others to join him, Tarl raised his hammer up next to the diorama. The heavy end slammed powerfully into the crescent-shaped pool, sending a shower of gold droplets in all directions.

“Acid!” screamed Tarl, and he shook his hammer-hand where the flesh was searing from the contact with the drops.

Ren and Shal had leaped back instinctively as Tarl’s hammer came down. Mere inches from where they stood, shimmering acid was burning through every piece of wood and cloth it hit. Where the acid landed on stone, it was sizzling and spattering like water in hot grease.

Shal quickly summoned forth a skin of water from the Cloth of Many Pockets and poured it generously over Tarl’s right hand, which was already raw in two places, and then over his hair, which was smoking where a drop had landed.

Enraged, fury and agony blending in his screams, Tarl lashed out again and again at the blasphemous altar, hammering with all his might until the lower end splintered and collapsed. Still he wasn’t satisfied. He dropped to his knees and pounded at the miniature fountain, the hexagon, and the rest of the diorama till only splinters and fragments remained.

By then, the gnoll was screaming steadily in reaction to the destruction of the altar. Ren chopped down hard on its head again. This time, its body slumped and its hyena head lolled loosely from side to side. Unwittingly, Ren had snapped the creature’s neck. Remorseless, he pushed the dead gnoll to the ground beside him and moved to calm Tarl.

The cleric had not stopped hammering, even after the diorama was pulverized. Nor did he stop now in response to the coaxing of his friends. It was not until the cloth-covered corpse balancing on the crux of the altar slid down onto his arms that he finally dropped his head and stopped. Pulling his arms loose from underneath the body, Tarl turned and faced Ren and Shal. “I—I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

As one, they spoke to comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’ve heard of altars to Bhaal and other gods whose worship I cannot fathom, but never have I seen anything so repugnant as this. I—” Tarl paused, distracted. “The priest—what happened?”

The gnoll’s body was lying on the ground behind Ren and Shal. Its jaundiced face looked even more pinched and grotesque in death than it had in life, and the fervent yellow of its eyes had been replaced by a dull umber glaze. “He’s dead,” Ren said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t mean to kill him, but I can’t say I’ll stay awake nights over it.”

“No,” said Tarl. “He would’ve killed us without a second thought.”

“He probably would have skinned us alive with one of those meat tenderizers,” added Shal, pointing to the row of torture implements that filled a wooden cabinet against the far wall of the big room.

“By Bane and Bhaal and all that’s perverse …” Ren’s curse came out almost in a whisper as he eyed the morbid array of tools. Despite his lifelong habit of quickly examining everything within eyeshot upon entry to a room, he had not seen what filled the cabinet. “Gnoll religion … You’re right, Tarl. It goes against nature. It’s an abomination.”

“Are you okay?” Shal asked suddenly, reaching for Tarl’s acid-marred hand. She didn’t want to think about gnoll religion or gnoll justice anymore. She’d seen enough of both, and she was worried about her friend. She poured more water over the burned spots. “What about your head? Does it hurt?”

Though Tarl had not been conscious of it until Shal brought it up, the spot on his head continued to sting, as did the two raw wounds on his hand. “I have a salve that should help.” Tarl met Shal’s gaze and spoke earnestly. “I’ll be all right. I’m sure I’d be worse off if you hadn’t reacted so quickly.”

Shal released Tarl’s hand and reached up and ran her fingers through his thick, silvery hair till she found the spot where the acid had splashed. He flinched as she located the jagged, finger-length depression where the hair and flesh were burned off. She poured a little more water on that spot and then on his burned hand. She completely missed the smile Tarl flashed at Ren as she asked him to give her the salve so she could apply it for him.

“Not here,” snapped Ren. “If your salve smells anything like that infernal poultice you put on me last night, the gnolls will pick up the scent in a minute.”

“He’s right,” said Tarl, sobered by Ren’s words. “In fact, we’re lucky they haven’t heard us. The walls here must be pretty thick—better insulated than the rest of this rat trap of a fort.”

“Don’t underestimate the gnolls.” Ren pointed back to the curtained hallway from which they’d come. “They probably did hear us. The lazy, bloodthirsty bastards are probably just waiting for us to come out. Fact is, I was hoping we’d find another way out of here. Let’s look behind those curtains.”

Ren’s instincts were good. There was a door behind the curtains, and it led to a covered crawlspace that apparently ran behind the temple, between it and the stockade. They remembered no such corridor from the map, but the temple hadn’t been on the map, either. They were pleased to find that the passageway skirted the full length of the temple. When they finally reached its end, they found themselves well beyond the entrance they had used when Ren first stormed inside. No party of gnolls lay in wait at either doorway, but the three didn’t feel any worse for having taken the precaution.

Ren whispered, “The gnolls are gonna be up and around just as soon as the midday heat has passed. We’ve got to find what we came for and get out of here before they discover the mess we left back there.” He pointed to their left and whispered again. “The bedroom should be that way. Stay close to the walls like we did when we came in.” The faintest hint of embarrassment showed in his expression when he added, “And don’t go looking for trouble!”

Ren moved like a shadow among the cartons and rubble that cluttered the way along the makeshift square. Shal followed, aware as always that she was no match for Ren in terms of stealth. She watched and admired his careful movements, realizing she admired even more his presence of mind and worldliness, especially his knowledge of things like gnolls, which she had never before encountered.

Tarl followed close behind Shal, conscious that he was even more distracted than usual by her catlike elegance. He could almost picture her as a shape-shifter, a powerful panther one moment, muscles rippling; the next, a powerful, sensual woman he felt so drawn to….

He paused just long enough to force his thoughts back to their mission. A single glance at the courtyard gate and the ghoulish display of heads posted there brought him quickly to the present. The guards that had been slumbering earlier were beginning to stir.

As they approached one building, they could hear the grunts and growls of several young gnolls roughhousing inside. The three blurred past the open doorway and continued on their way.

Ren whispered back to them that the next building appeared to be their destination. When they reached it, he peeked through a small window. If Ren were alone, he would have felt challenged, invigorated by what he saw. With others to worry about, he felt annoyance, disgust, and a twinge of fear.

Though defiled with refuse like everything else in the gnoll encampment, the chambers were still used as private sleeping quarters—and a huge gnoll, no doubt the chieftain, was sleeping inside, with a sleeping female gnoll naked beside him, her gangly body all the more vulgar for its revealing posture. Lamps left burning in the room exposed elaborate, though tasteless, decorations. Eye-jarring combinations of gold-leaf-framed paintings and chartreuse and magenta embroideries covered the walls. All around the foot of the huge, overstuffed bed were slumbering female gnolls, their long, knobby, fur-covered legs protruding awkwardly from garish print wraps. Ren could see no way to get to the back of the chamber except to go right through the door and past all those sleeping gnolls. He gestured at the window and gave Shal and Tarl a moment to take in the situation.

Ren moved silently up to the door and tried it carefully. It was locked. Before Shal could even think of a spell to help, Ren had it open with his picks. He slipped inside with the ease and stealth of a mink. Shal and Tarl followed, their movements as close to Ren’s as they could make them, but Ren was already past the sleeping females and across the room when Shal was just beginning to tiptoe her way through and Tarl was still easing the door shut to avoid attracting attention.

The creatures snorted and grunted in their slumber. Occasionally one would stir, letting an arm slip to the floor or rolling over to a more comfortable position. One started pawing and writhing, apparently in the throes of a dream, and clipped Shal with a clawed foot as she tried to edge by. She sucked in a breath of air and then kept her teeth clamped shut to keep from crying out from the stinging pain. Behind her, Tarl dodged to one side to avoid the restless sleeper, and the two finished crossing the room without incident.

At the back of the sleeping quarters, behind a gaudily embroidered curtain, stood a door that, according to the map, should lead to the inner bedroom, where they would find the hidden treasure vault. The three filed in behind the curtain. Ren touched the door handle—and immediately jerked his hand back. Pain ripped through his body, and it took all of his years of training as a ranger and a thief to stifle the scream that threatened to burst through his tightly clenched teeth. When finally the jets of pain had eased their pulsing, he turned to Shal and mouthed the words “Wizard-locked.”

Shal felt as if she had endured the tremendous jolt of pain Ren had just suffered right along with him. She marveled once again at the big man’s endurance. Gently she touched his shoulder as she slipped cautiously, quietly in front of him. She was gratified to see that her touch had a quieting effect on Ren. Voicelessly she called for Cerulean, mentally shouting the thought Silence is critical! to the horse to avoid his clumping out of the cloth like a bumbling clown.

To her great relief, the horse emerged from the velvet square with no more than a whisper of sound. He nuzzled his mistress’s shoulder and reminded her to cast a spell of Protection. Quickly she whispered the incantation and nodded. Cerulean touched the door with his nose. As at Denlor’s tower, he immediately began to glow, but this time he glowed a brilliant amethyst, and there was no crackling sound to be heard. When the magical energy abated, the door swung open.

For one painful moment, all four held their breath, waiting for the door to crash against the inside wall. It did not. Shal held up the cloth, and Cerulean poured in without so much as a Do I have to? Shal thanked him mentally and entered the room.

When Tarl and Ren were both inside as well, Shal sealed the door with a little magic of her own. They found themselves in complete blackness, and Shal took out her light wand so they could see. “Cadorna said noth—” Shal stopped as she saw the look of horror on Ren and Tarl’s faces. She realized immediately what was wrong and explained her boldness in speech. “Nobody’s going to hear us now. This is a wizard’s spell-casting chamber. It’s soundproof. They all are.”

Ren swallowed to avoid the temptation to whisper in contrast to Shal’s brazenness. “What—what were you going to say?” he asked nervously.

She finished the thought. “Cadorna didn’t say anything about a wizard, either in his family or among the gnolls.”

“I think he would’ve said something if he knew,” Ren reasoned out loud. “If I’d taken a tighter grip on that door, I’d be dead from the charge. If he could help it, I don’t think Cadorna would’ve risked having us die before we could get the treasure.”

“Cadorna knew from the map only that there was a treasure,” said Shal, agreeing. “He probably didn’t know the thing was wizard-locked.” Shal gasped as she turned and faced the opposite wall for the first time. Painted on the wall were two coiled snake emblems identical to the one she had seen on the armband of Ranthor’s murderer. Her eyes widened, and she started breathing with a rapidity that frightened both Ren and Tarl.

“What is it, Shal? What’s wrong?” asked Tarl hurriedly.

Ren reached out and touched Shal on the shoulder, much as she had touched his a moment ago.

Shal pointed, but for a moment she couldn’t say anything, and when she did speak, it was not in her recently acquired rich, husky voice, but in a breathless, almost childlike stammer. “The symbol—the s-snake … It’s like the one … Ranthor’s k-killer wore. It stabbed him again and again … Cadorna was right. The gnoll … the half-gnoll outside … He m-must be Ranthor’s killer! He must be a magic-user. And that must be his sign!”

Ren rested his hands on both of Shal’s shoulders and spoke calmly, firmly. “Shal, the gnoll leader could be Ranthor’s killer, but that sign—the coiled snake—is common in these parts. I’ve seen it all over the place. And I doubt that any gnoll or even half-gnoll has ever been inside this room. Look around. There’s not a scrap of trash anywhere, and other than the coiling snakes—which are admittedly pretty ugly—this place doesn’t look too bad. Compared to the stuff outside—the bright green curtains and all—this just doesn’t look like a place where gnolls have been.”

Shal glanced from side to side, then turned her head and began to take slow, deep breaths. Ren was right. The room showed no sign of gnoll occupation. In fact, it was practically dust-free, an indication that the wizard lock had probably not been opened any time recently. Shal knew from experience that a wizard’s chambers normally get dusty when they’re in regular use, not when they’re vacant. She didn’t know immediately what to make of the signs before her. But she did know that she no longer cared if the killer was human, humanoid, or monster, a half-gnoll or the ruler of the land. She was going to find him regardless and avenge her master’s death. Shal reached up, touched Ren’s hands with her own, and lowered them from her shoulders. “Let’s get what we came for,” she said, composed once again.

The vault proved to be well hidden. It wasn’t until Shal cast a Detect Magic spell that a sizable emerald-colored square began to glow on the wall. A simple cantrip opened the door, which apparently was not wizard-locked because it was so carefully hidden that it didn’t seem necessary. When they entered the vault, it took only a glance to realize that the Cadorna family treasure was still intact. Several bricks of gold bullion shone brilliantly, even in the dull, unnatural light from the wand. Behind them were a forged gold brooch inlaid with coral and ivory, several gold and silver chains, and a superbly preserved, shatter-glaze vase, obviously an ancient piece from the Eastern Realms. There was also a chain-mail vest, a splendid example of the finest dwarven workmanship. Ren’s eyes gleamed when he saw it, but Tarl cast Ren a withering look that spoiled his taste for the garment. On further examination, the vest proved to be of a size for a dwarf, anyhow, and would be of no use to Ren.

In one corner of the vault were two gold armbands and a locket, both embossed with the coiled snake design they had seen on the wall outside the vault. Shal looked questioningly at Ren as he picked up the three pieces. “Cadorna?”

“I’ll only say what I did before. This is a common symbol in these parts. You’d probably do well to look it up in that library we passed by—some other day, of course.”

Shal said no more. She slipped the vase and the armor into the Cloth of Many Pockets. The bullion and jewelry, Ren and Tarl divided up and placed in their packs.

The three left the wizard’s chamber as quietly as they had entered. Outside, they were greeted by the reassuring snores of the gnoll leader and his mates. Just as they were about to step from behind the curtain, however, a deafening gong sounded in the courtyard, and squeals and screams resounded from one end of the compound to the other.

They could see nothing from where they stood, plastered tight against the wall behind the curtain, but they could hear the chaos in the room beyond when the gnoll leader leaped from his bed, kicking females out of his way as he scrambled to reach the courtyard. Then they heard scrambling noises as the dozen or so gnoll mates pushed and shoved their way out the door after him.

“Can you call that horse of yours out?” asked Ren.

Shal nodded.

“Good. Just as soon as we clear the door, you two mount up and get out of here while the camp is still in an uproar. I’ll act as a decoy till you can get across the courtyard. You can count on the gnolls to fight in lines like fools. I’ll manage somehow to dodge my way past them, but be ready to pick me up!”

Shal and Tarl followed Ren’s instructions without hesitation. In moments, they were mounted on Cerulean’s broad back, plowing through the center of the courtyard in the midst of the chaos. Shal held the Staff of Power out at just the right height to clip the tall gnolls in the neck as they approached, sending them to the ground like so many ninepins. Others who managed to duck under the staff reached up, grabbing, trying to stop the big horse, but Cerulean was relentless. Tarl, in the meantime, was swinging his hammer with passion.

At that moment, the air was pierced by a loud war whoop, and Ren emerged into the courtyard, brandishing his twin daggers. Immediately several disorganized groups of gnolls began to advance toward him. Ren knew that the key to fighting gnolls was to avoid getting hit. The creatures were big and gangly and awkward in their movements, but when they connected, the person at the receiving end of a blow seldom got up. In a blur of motion, Ren began to dodge, duck, and knife his way through the lines. One gnoll got hold of his shoulder and shoved him down roughly, so that his elbow jammed hard into the rocky ground. It took all of Ren’s presence of mind and willpower to ignore the pain and jump quickly back to his feet, but before he could get free, a gnoll’s spiked cudgel slammed into his left hand, goring through flesh and bone and pulverizing the flat of his hand with its impact.

The pain was like a massive electrical charge that jolted through Ren’s body. He felt as if his insides were going to burst, just as air would explode from a burst balloon. He could no longer react rationally, but fought on in a frantic, instinctive, uninhibited frenzy. Pain and fear drove him forward with a fury that was frightening. With his good hand, he drew out a short sword and wielded it with such a vengeance that he emasculated one gnoll with a swing, then gashed partway through the belly of another with his next. Even the bloodthirsty gnolls grew wary, and Ren sensed that he had to keep moving while he retained the advantage. As he started to dart across the courtyard, he came face to face with the huge gnoll chieftain.

Obviously Cadorna hadn’t lied about the ancestry of the gnoll leader. Ren had never seen such a creature. The chieftain had the ungainly height of a gnoll, coupled with the bulk of a brawny human. Ren might well have mistaken him for a giant, were it not for his face. A man’s nose protruded like a wart from a hyena snout, and pink human lips framed slavering canine teeth. But it was the eyes that were most terrible of all. They were unnaturally large, wide-rimmed and wide-set like a gnoll’s, but they bore the searing intelligence of a human being—a sick, crazed human being. The creature bore a monstrous double-edged sword and a long, sharp dagger.

“Human slug! Don’t think for one minute you can run from me!”

The creature’s speech was thick and difficult to understand. Obviously its distorted mouth could barely produce the sounds of the human language. Ren stopped immediately, brandished his own short sword, and issued a challenge of his own.

“Half-breed vermin! Don’t you think for one minute you can stop me!”

“So it’s a fight you want, is it, worm?”

“Aye,” said Ren. “A fight it is. One on one. To the death.”

A ring of gnolls had started to close in around Ren, but the chieftain waved them back. From every building, gnolls swarmed to the center of the courtyard, and it was only the threatening glances of their leader that kept them from pressing in and crushing the duelers.

In moments, not a single gnoll remained to block Shal and Tarl’s path, but instead of fleeing, they remained motionless, watching horror-struck as the strange duel unfolded. They watched as the huge gnoll-man landed a devastating blow square on Ren’s head with the flat of its sword.

“Gods and demigods! I’ve seen enough!” Shal shouted in a voice that could be heard even over the tumult. With a piercing mental command, she spurred Cerulean into the midst of the mob. Without a moment’s hesitation, she leveled her staff at the half-gnoll chieftain, intoned three syllables, and watched as a bolt of lightning blasted straight through the creature, sending it flying across the compound. When the horrified gnolls turned in unison toward her and Tarl and started to charge, she leveled the staff again and blasted away unmercifully. Fireballs and lightning ripped through the hordes of gangling hyena-faced creatures, and their squeals and shrieks of pain blotted out all other sound. Only the few who were fortunate enough to be near Ren were spared.

As soon as Ren recovered from the blow to his head and the shock of seeing his opponent jolted across the courtyard, he fled toward the compound gate, afraid of being consumed in the flames that were exploding everywhere. Quickly he mounted the terrified mare that stood waiting and spurred her away from the burning encampment at a gallop.

When she was sure Ren was safe, Shal spurred Cerulean around and charged out the gate after him. Tarl clasped her waist tightly, marveling at the uncharacteristic fury of his companion. In minutes, the huge magical steed had caught up with Ren.

When they reached his side, Shal reined to a stop. Behind them, there was no sign of any pursuit.

“What in the Abyss did you do that for?” Ren’s face was crimson with rage.

Neither Shal nor Tarl had ever seen Ren so angry. Shal responded with an anger of her own. “That ugly thing was clobbering you back there! You would’ve been killed if I hadn’t done something!”

“But it was a duel of honor!”

“Honor? What good is your honor if you’re dead? Don’t you understand?” she cried. “He would’ve killed you! I’d seen enough for one day. I suppose it was also honor when you went off on that rampage over the damn garden and killed those four innocent gnolls without batting an eye!”

“Innocent? You call them innocent? Don’t you remember you nearly puked when you saw that corpse in the temple?”

“Okay, so they weren’t innocent. But they hadn’t done squat to us. And our goal was only to get the treasure and get out safely, not to see how many gnolls we could kill!”

Ren’s face reddened as he blurted, “And who was it who wiped that place free of gnolls, anyhow? It sure as Tymora wasn’t me!”

“Okay, so I got carried away. But I’ve never been so disgusted by anything in my whole life. All day it was building up in me—what with the trash, the stench, that poor soul in the temple, the blood in those chalices, the snake symbols, and that filthy creature fighting you in the courtyard. By the—”

The adrenaline that had carried Ren through the bloody battle in the courtyard suddenly gave out. Pain and loss of blood took over, and the big man dropped limply from his horse in a cold faint.

Shal and Tarl were at Ren’s side in seconds. There was an ugly gash in his head, and his hand hung limp and useless. Shal immediately applied pressure to his wrist to slow the bleeding, and Tarl held his hand on Ren’s head and prayed. In moments, severed capillaries fused shut and the bleeding stopped. Tissue stretched over crushed bone and melded with other tissue until the wound was no longer life-threatening, but the severity of Ren’s wounds was such that Tarl could not hope to heal them completely. It would take a cleric with the acquired skills of Brother Sontag to fully mend such an injury. But Tarl could help. He could make him more comfortable and cure some of the worst of the damage. In a few minutes, Ren regained consciousness.

The argument of a few moments ago was completely forgotten as the three shared their concern for each other’s physical well-being. Shal and Tarl insisted that Ren take time to soak his hand before they attempted to move on. It wasn’t until the sun was low in the sky and darkness was creeping over Uncivilized Phlan that Ren convinced them that he was ready for the ride back.

All had had enough trouble for one day, and the gate to a city never looked so good as it did that evening. As they waited outside the gate, Tarl was the first to spot the cynical guard they had spoken to on the way out. He started to smile when he saw the guard ride out from behind the open gate accompanied by a young watchman. When they drew near, the guard raised his sword and pronounced, “You’re under arrest.”

Tarl stopped smiling as the guard jabbed the point of his sword into his ribs and ordered all three of them to come with him.

“What the—” Ren spluttered, his anger quick to surface again.

“Under arrest for what?” Shal blurted out. “By whose orders?”

“For unauthorized travel in the ruins,” responded the other guard. “By authority of Fourth Councilman Cadorna.”

“Fourth Councilman Cadorna!” It was Tarl’s turn to be angry. “Our mission was under his auspices! It was he who sent us out here!”

“We’re just followin’ orders,” said the first guard. “Frankly, if’n I were you, I’d be tickled to make it out of the uncivilized portion of the city alive. Matter of fact, I think we discussed that this mornin’, didn’t we? You were a might cocky, as I recall it. Seems that the Fourth Councilman suspects you might have borrowed some things that weren’t yours.”

Ren’s face was crimson with anger. “That’s ridic—”

The younger guard jabbed him hard with the point of his sword. “Enough! Come with us!”

When they reached the council building, the younger guard once again began barking orders. “Get off your horses. Move over against those tables there. Open your packs, your pouches; empty your pockets, your shoes. Everything on the table. Separate out the treasure that belongs to the Fourth Councilman.”

With a word, Shal protected her magical items from tampering. She then discreetly removed the vase from the Cloth of Many Pockets and was waiting for an opportunity to remove the armor unseen when Ren caught her eye. He barely moved his head, but she knew what he meant: “Don’t take it out.”

At the same time, with the dexterity of a polished street magician, Ren slipped the two ioun stones from the hilts of Right and Left and into the chameleon gauntlet on his right hand. As Shal began unhitching the heavy belt she wore at her waist, Ren sidled up to her and said, “Here, sweetheart. Let me help you with that.”

The older guard chortled at the big man’s forwardness, and Shal blushed even as she realized that Ren was pressing something into her waistband.

With one hand, she made a point of pressing Ren away, while with the other, she appeared to be holding fast to the belt he had offered to help her remove. “I’ll get it myself, thank you!” she said tartly. The paper-thin gauntlet Ren had slipped her remained unseen inside one of her big hands, and as she fumbled with the buckle, she was able to press the gauntlet—and the ioun stones inside it—into the Cloth of Many Pockets for safekeeping.

From the shadows of a doorway, Gensor watched the two companions. He suspected that something, physical or verbal, had passed between them, but he hadn’t actually seen anything.

Tarl bridled at Ren, no more aware than the guard of what was really transpiring between the two. With angry deliberateness, not uttering a word, he slapped down his hammer, his shield, his armor, and the treasure of the textile house without so much as a word. But when the young guard insisted he remove his sacred medallion, he said coldly, “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Come now, there’ll be no need for that.” Cadorna strolled into the courtyard. His gray eyes were glued to the gold bullion Ren had just removed from his pack.

“What do you mean by having us arrested for doing your bidding?” Shal turned on Cadorna with a look not unlike the one she’d given the gnolls at the textile house before blasting them to dust.

“No need to be so testy, young woman,” Cadorna replied smoothly. “Obviously these fine guards misunderstood my intent. I wanted them only to escort you here safely so that no one would have the opportunity to rob you of your treasure.”

“ ‘No one’ meaning us?” Ren asked pointedly.

“Naturally I wanted to see everything you brought back with you.”

“Are you reneging on your promise to give a percentage of the treasure to the Tyrian temple?” asked Tarl.

“Why, Brother Tarl! I’m offended that you would suggest such a thing. In fact, I just wanted to be sure your partners were honest in providing all the treasure so the temple would be sure to get its fair share.”

“I trust my friends,” said Tarl.

“I trust no one,” retorted Cadorna, his face growing cold. After examining everything carefully, the councilman assembled the treasure into one pile. A crooked, toothy smile pasted on his face, he handed a single gold brick and the coral and ivory brooch to Tarl. “For the temple. Quite generous, don’t you think?”

Tarl clenched his teeth but nodded reluctantly. The portion was nowhere near fifteen percent of the treasure, but he knew he would receive no more and that the temple could do worse than inherit a gold brick and an emerald brooch.

“You’re free to go now,” Cadorna said finally. “I do thank you all. You will help me out again if I need it, won’t you?”