Chapter 5

Jorn woke up the next morning without his headache. He rolled off the pallet – a necessity, since no cot would hold him - and performed his morning ablutions. The faint light that showed beneath the edge of the tent flaps told him he had risen at the same time he usually did.

Sunrise. Looks like I get another day, Jorn thought with satisfaction. He finished belting on his sword and grabbed a cookie on his way out of the tent.

Blitzen Harryranks stood outside the entrance, his staff in one hand and a steaming cup in the other.

"Hey Blitz, you're up kinda early," Jorn said. Blitzen handed him the cup.

"You don't have to tell me," the dark wizard said irritably. "No, thanks, I've had some tea already. I discussed it with Sid and some of the others, and we decided it would be wise for you to be accompanied the next time you check the guard posts."

"What, 'cause of one banshee?" Jorn sipped the tea. It was weak, but not bad. Tea had to come a long way to get to Dalaran. He suspected this had belonged to some necromancer's stash, before they had interrupted the caravan that was moving it.

"Among other things," Blitzen said. "A few hours ago the night team of scouts found a pair of dead men to the west. Their garb was plain, and they wore no Alliance insignia."

"So you think they're from the same party as the priests?" Jorn said. "They weren't dressed Alliance, either." He frowned. "Seems odd the bodies were still there, Blitz." Corpses generally did not lie for long in Dalaran.

"My thoughts exactly," Blitzen said. "So I took Berrythorn and went out and examined them."

"Yeah?" he said, when the wizard did not seem about to continue.

"I think they died by poison, Jorn," Blitzen said. "I found a few bits of glass around the bodies. I gathered up some of the fragments, and Berrythorn is trying to figure out if there's anything on them."

Jorn mulled this over. "Died by poison," he said. "Not were poisoned."

"Very clever," the wizard said. "One man had bits of glass stuck in his hand. I think he crushed the vial with his fist before he died."

"Why poison?" Jorn wondered aloud. He swallowed the last bite of his cookie as he sauntered toward the front of the atrium. "Mostly the Undead don't care how you die, when it comes to getting you back up again. Unless it was something special. Something supposed to keep them from being brought back, maybe?"

"Our surveillance has uncovered no such development in the Alliance," Blitzen said, keeping pace with Jorn's long stride. "That doesn't mean it isn't happening, since we've been unable to infiltrate them. It would solve the old problem of how to prevent your spies from giving up information to the Undead."

"Problem being, they better be pretty quick with it, if there's banshees around," Jorn said. "Can't really see a way to make it work."

"Someone must have," Blitzen said.

"Un huh. I'm gonna talk to that Elf. He up yet?"

"Yes. He's been walking around the edge of the atrium. I'm having one of my apprentices who is learning to shadowmeld keep an eye on him."

"He get any breakfast?" Jorn asked.

"He won't eat. I sent some tea over."

"Good man. You want to check up the guards for me this morning?"

"Nothing would please me more," Blitzen said. His voice held a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Jorn grinned.

"Here you go." He handed the wizard his empty cup. Jorn turned and moved off toward the South side of the camp. A small figure limped along the wall there, staff in hand.

The Elf's hair hung in ragged layers now. The ends of his pointed ears stuck up through it. He seemed to be clad in an apprentice's robe, plain brown and belted at the waist. Probably the only thing small enough to fit him. As Jorn approached, he saw him tuck something into his belt.

Was that glass? Jorn thought. Looked like glass.

"Morning, Priest," Jorn said.

"Lord Raveloe," the priest said. He turned awkwardly to face the Bandit Lord, leaning on the staff.

"The knee still hurt?" Jorn asked.

"It is healed after a fashion, but I cannot make it straight again," the priest said. His voice was low, without expression. He had the same flat, blank look he had had when he knelt beside the dead man. "I do not have my teacher's skill."

"Anything you need?" Jorn asked.

"No." The priest turned and began limping along the wall again. Jorn walked beside him. "Am I a prisoner here?" the Elf asked. He did not sound particularly curious.

"No," Jorn said. "I'll talk to my guys and make sure they let you go in and out. Dalaran's not too safe to be wandering through on your own, though. You want an escort back to your command post or whatever, I can send somebody with you."

"There is no place to which I may return," the Elf said. "My companions are all dead."

"You mean the two humans we found this morning?" Jorn said. Priest did not answer. "You're not Alliance either, are you," Jorn said.

"Why would you say that, Lord Raveloe?"

"Don't see too many Elves with them any more. Not since they tried to lock up Kael'thas and his folk and they took off. You live in Quel'thalas?"

"Nothing lives in Quel'thalas," Priest said.

"Un huh." Jorn walked in silence for a moment. Worth a try. "Priest," he said. "You got something I want."

Priest stopped and looked up at Jorn. The bones in his face were very sharp. "That which you saved is of no value to me, but the debt remains. I am not sure what I have that you would want."

"That vial in your belt," Jorn said.

The Elf looked away. "That holds only death," he said. "It is of no use to one such as you."

Jorn shrugged. His shadow fell across the Elf, but the globe that topped the staff gleamed in the rising sun.

"You could take it, of course," Priest said.

"Sure," Jorn said. He raised one eyebrow. "I'm a bandit, right? That's how I got a face with more seams than a gold mine: stealing stuff off wounded Elves half as big as me."

Priest blinked. "What?"

"You got to get over this whole, what's the word, fey thing," Jorn said. "Light as a feather, stiff as a board. What d'you think that teacher of yours would say, he saw you now?"

A strange expression crossed the Elf's narrow face. "He would say Entrelli vareth, kur na'ein serell'heth," Priest said.

"Which means what?"

"It does not translate well into the Common tongue. Approximately it means, 'Stop sulking, or I will box your ears.'"

Jorn laughed.

"Here," Priest said. He handed Jorn the vial. "But please do not ask me any more questions. The answers are not mine to give."

"I get you," Jorn said. "See you later, Priest."

He stuck the vial in his belt pouch, next to Gilly's pack of cards. As he started to turn away, he saw Dumb Zig approaching with the ghoul in tow.

"Hey, Boss," Zig said. "Some guy up at the front says he wants to see you."

"How'd he find the camp?" Jorn said, turning toward the entrance to the atrium.

"Says the Shandlewighters gave him directions."

"Great," Jorn said. "Now we'll have to move again. We been in this spot too long, anyhow. Who is he?"

"Says his name is Vilbert Standwright. He's got some armor on, but it ain't no uniform, Boss."

"Too much weird stuff happening the last couple of days," Jorn said. "I don't like it."