Chapter Seven

(*)

"Do we really have time for this?" Imoen asked thoughtfully, looking over the dryad they had met in the wilds, pleading with them to save her endangered tree. "I mean, she seems nice, but we promised to saveMinsc's witch, you know."

Jaheira whirled on her, her eyes fairly glowing with wrath. "No. No, child, no. You do not criticize me. Not now, not ever, on the subject of wasting time. Not after you started a fight with those wealthy Amnish hunters just because they were rude..."

"Which got me this awesome armor!" Imoen countered, gesturing at the gleaming leather armor, studded in gold and obviously enchanted, that one of the (admittedly very rude) hunters had been wearing. "And I don't see Khalid complaining about his shiny new sword."

"... And stopping to help that child look for his dog, which turned out to be a demon looking for his hellhound..."

"Which, in my defense, seemed really unlikely at the time!" Imoen said defensively.

"...and tried to give away all our gold to, and I quote, 'Zax, the fastest dart-thrower in the west!" Jaheira finished.

"... Okay, yeah, that one was my bad," Imoen admitted. "I got nervous. I mean, what if he had been the fastest dart-thrower in the west?"

"Then he would have thrown darts at us,"Jaheira said coldly. "And we would have killed him because thrown darts are a largely inferior combat weapon and we outnumbered he and his partner five to two, with magical support."

"... That's what happened anyway."

"Yes. I know. Do you see my point?" Jaheira asked.

"... That maybe trying to give him all our money was not a good decision?"

"Aaaand?"

"Aaaaand since I have wasted our time on stupid, pointless things...I shouldn't complain about a druid wanting to help save nature?" Imoen asked. "Because that is what druids do?"

"You see? You can learn," Jaheira said approvingly. She turned back to the distressed (and at this point mildly confused) dryad who had sought their aid, promising the nature spirit their aid once again.

"Sorry, Minsc," Imoen said. "I know that you're worried by these delays...and most of them are my fault..."

The giant warrior smiled and patted her gently on the back, knocking the wind out of her. "Worry not, little Imoen! Fair Dynaheir is strong and clever, and shall almost certainly be fine for a few minutes extra. And besides, what sort of warrior would not aid a lost child seeking his puppy?! Boo's heart cried out for him!"

"He was a demon, you recall," Xan said.

"Boo has a very big heart for such a small creature," Minsc said proudly. "Look upon him, and feel the compassion that flows from every whisker!" he bellowed, holding the hamster up to the elf for inspection as Imoen coughed.

"I would really rather-"

"Look upon him! Feel the wisdom and kindness!" Minsc demanded.

"Squeak," Boo said.

"... ... I was better off dying in the cave, then?" Xan asked of nobody in particular.

Jaheira sighed. "Lady of the forest, I...apologize. Believe me when I say that what they lack in personality, they make up for in effectiveness. Please, lead us to your tree."

The dryad blinked. "No longer entirely certain am I that I wish for their help, lady druid. My oak in danger from ruffians may be, but I fear yon madmen may only make the issue worse..."

Jaheira winced. "Yes, well. That reaction is perfectly natural, but I assure you, unfounded."

"M-mostly."

"Khalid, my love, you are not helping."

Gods above, this had to be the most pathetic adventure of all time.

(*)

Kagain stomped onto the animated skeleton's neck, crushing the vertebrae as he ripped the skull free with his bare hands. "Gods below," he muttered, bone dust billowing around him. "This has gotta be the most pathetic adventure of all time."

"I try to avoid agreeing with the dwarf too often, my dear. Sends the wrong message, upsets my elven kin, all that," Acherai murmured. "But he does have a point, bless his greedy little soul."

"You promised," Sephiria said firmly. "And besides, I am the leader. And the chicken is your friend, not mine!"

"And yet, when Master Thalantyr offered us precisely no reward for an undead skull to maybe restore him," Acherai countered, "I quite plainly stated we should leave the chicken and go to find Tranzig."

"I could hardly leave an innocent man to such a fate."

"He isn't innocent, he did it to himself!"

"Even so, he hardly deserved a lifetime as an animal. Particularly not an edible one," Sephiria said firmly. "The assassin's letters suggested Tranzig will be in Beregost until they met to exchange coin, and finding a skull barely took us two hours."

"Which does seem odd." Garrick kind of poked the shattered skeleton with his toe. "I wonder why so many of them were walking around?"

Acherai rolled his eyes. "Why, it is as though a famous and dangerous necromancer-cleric lived directly south of here less than a day's travel."

"Well...yes. But he is dead now. Shouldn't his skeletons be dead too?"

The elf shrugged. "Magic does not always behave logically, particularly not when granted by the gods. Cyric in particular is not the sort to bother with sanity, especially when being insane leads to more killer monsters in the world." He paused. "That was actually a very logical question, Garrick. I'm impressed. Keep this up and I may grow to not loathe you."

"An' if ye all shut up. An' help me fix the chicken fer the goodie two shoes. So we can go back ta town and collect the damn bounty we came out here for," Kagain snarled, "then maybe I won't go crazy and smash ye all to death."

"Grumpy," Acherai said with a smirk. "The gold isn't going anywhere. And besides, that new hammer you're waving around it probably worth as much as the share of gold you're getting anyway, so I would say you won this little field trip."

"... Wait. Wait, wait!" Garrick said. "Why does only he get any magic items?! We all nearly died, so I think we should all get something."

Sephiria blinked in confusion. "Garrick, what are you talking about. I got this helmet from the fallen priestess, which allows me to see in the dark as an elf or dwarf might." She pointed to her new headgear.

"And I got these boots from the leader, which aid me in avoiding projectiles," Acherai added, pointing to the brown leather boots, small runes trimmed around their soles. "And you got...ummm..."

"... We did save him something, did we not?" Sephiria asked, having the good grace to sound embarrassed.

"I don't think there was anything else," Acherai said. "Huh...well, Garrick, you don't get anything. Sorry."

"HA!" Kagain said, showing his deep sympathy for his comrade.

Garrick pouted. Yes, pouted. "This seems unfair."

"Well… perhaps Thalantyr will give us some kind of magical reward for saving his apprentice?" Sephiria said earnestly. "Whatever he does give to us, you can definitely have it."

"Speak for yourself," Acherai said with a grin that was only partially mocking. "He is a mage, after all. I'm willing to bet that whatever we get, it will definitely be the best fit on me."

One hour later…

"Five hundred," Acherai murmured in annoyance, piling the final gold coin on the table before the severe-looking wizard Thalantyr.

"Which just about covers the cost of the scrolls you stole," the old man said, his almost childish smirk making him appear nearly ten years younger, which still left him looking about a thousand years old in Acherai's opinion. "And since you were so kind as to help me out with the Melicamp situation, I will be kind enough to reward you for your aid in the ritual by not turning you into a chicken yourself."

"Normally I'd be mocking you," Melicamp said cheerfully, "but I'm just so happy to not have feathers anymore."

"How come he doesn't have to pay? I just stole a few scrolls. He took magical bracers and destroyed them," Acherai growled, trying his best to refrain from punching his former fellow apprentice in the face, and trying even harder to not do the same to Sephiria, who was smiling at him in a manner he would have called wicked if he had seen it on anyone other than a teenage paladin.

"And he will suffer, I assure you," Thalantyr said, casting a sidelong glance at the young man, who had the good grace to look terrified. "I've agreed to look after him again, due to what I can only assume is senility setting in. Rest assured that his apprenticeship shall make the Abyss seem positively charming."

"Erk," Melicamp said.

"As for the rest of you, I'd ask you to leave, but it is nightfall. And since I am certain your antics have riled up the wildlife for miles around and you did provide me a new sale," the old man said with a smirk, "I suppose you may stay the night on the grounds of High Hedge, within the boundaries of my wards. You'll need to provide your own food and drink. I offer you a night of safety, not a full service inn. And if you wish to leave, by all means, do so and do not return."

"Ah, yes, the famed Thalantyr charm," Acherai said with a sigh. "Well. We saved a chicken and lost a chunk of money, for no reward. Thank you so much to our illustrious leader."

Sephiria smiled. "Are you trying to shame me with the knowledge that I saved an innocent man and made you pay for a crime you committed?"

"… Dammit, I was. I forgot that doesn't work with you."

"HA!" Kagain said, helpfully.

"What are you laughing about? You hate generosity and justice and all that."

"Aye, but it's funny watching ya sputter about over yer own plans going wrong," the dwarf said cheerfully. "Bard! Quit bein' a moron and help me set up the tents an' bedrolls."

"I'm still a bit sore that I never got a magical reward like all of you," Garrick murmured as he followed the dwarf obediently outside. "But I suppose that I have the magic of music, so that will suffice until I can get some actually magical magic."

"Do you ever have the urge to simply punch that man in the face?" Acherai asked Sephiria as they watched the two go. "I often get that urge."

"Not recently," Sephiria said, "but this new interest in treasure he's picking up has him reminding me of you, so I'm sure I'll develop it eventually."

"You are going to be making my life much harder, aren't you?"

"Only if I do Torm's will properly."

(*)

"N-now, gentlemen," Khalid said, "I am certain that we can solve this problem fairly and p-peacefully. Please, t-tell us what you seek?"

"This here tree's bigger 'n others," said one of the two men, who looked like a man and a particularly stupid cow had gotten married, and then the cow had cheated on the man and had a baby with another, even more stupid cow, and the resulting cow had just been oddly humanoid. His name was Caldo, and against all odds, he was the smart one. "So, there must be treasure inside."

"Huh?" the other man said. His name was Krumm. And that told you about all you needed to know about him.

"So's we're gonna chop it down. So's to get the treasure."

"Can you perhaps… n-not do that?" Khalid asked. "It is merely that the tree is the home to a dryad, who is quite put off at the thought of you…well. M-murdering her."

"Huh?" Krumm said.

"Sorry, ain't happenin'. Big trees mean big treasure, as our pa always used ta say afore he got eaten by a cow," Caldo said firmly.

"… E-eaten by a…?" Khalid repeated, hoping he had heard something wrong in that sentence.

"So this is my life now, then?" Xan asked nobody in particular, his tone somewhere between disbelief and despair. "Sweet Sehanine, remind that the next time I'm kidnapped and tortured by evil priests, I should just give up and accept death."

"The next time you're…" Imoen began.

"Imoen, please stop helping."

Khalid sighed. "Jaheira d-dear, we s-seem to have hit an impasse in n-negotiations. Perhaps you should try? You are often more gifted at…f-forceful debate."

Jaheira stepped forward. "You. Imbecile."

"Huh?" Krumm said.

"The other one."

"Huh?" Caldo said.

"… Charming. I speak with the authority of nature when I say this, buffoon. If you lay so much as a finger upon this wonder of the world, I will gut you like a trout. Am I understood?"

"Huh?" Krumm said.

"That sounded like a threat," Caldo said, after a few seconds to ponder the statement.

"Be cautious, friend Jaheira," Minsc whispered loudly. "This foe is cunning! Already he has discovered your hostility toward him!"

"Huh?" Krumm asked.

Jaheira did not reply, precisely. She just began to shake. It was not terribly cold, so it seemed unlikely that the weather was getting to her; and of course, she was never one to show a great deal of fear. Khalid, who knew his wife very well and suspected that, for some reason, she was merely filled to the brim with unspeakable fury that would shortly explode like a wildfire, took several steps away from her and said a small prayer for the souls of the unfortunate morons who had so called down her wrath.

"So," Caldo said, "If'n y'all would go away, we're getting to the cuttin' of that tree now. And ain't no treasure fer y-"

He had probably been about to say 'you,' or potentionally something like 'ya' or 'y'all'. However, what he actually said was 'the sound of Jaheira's staff slamming very hard into a human skull.'

Well.

He didn't say that, but that general sort of sound most definitely came from the area of his head.

(*)

Sephiria realized, of course, that walking away from the party in the middle of the night, as they slept, was not the best idea in the world. She had been the target of no less than five assassins in the last week, she shouldn't be alone in a strange place. But she needed time to think, and besides, she needed practice using her new helmet. Infravision was… odd, to say the least, everything around her, trees and animals and swirls in the air, all visible clear as day, but all in shades of red and yellow, like the forest was not merely lit to her eyes, but actually ablaze.

The grim thought almost made her laugh. It suited the mood, she supposed.

This last day had been complicated for the young paladin. She had felt something inside her that she couldn't explain, something dark and wrong that acted against everything she had ever believed to be right. And for a time, she wondered if that somehow changed who she was. If something outside her control could change her, affect her morality.

But the events with Melicamp had changed things. She had saved a man, with no expectation of gain for herself. Merely to save him. And it had felt right. No inner darkness had turned against her, forced her off that path.

There was something… off about her. She couldn't deny that anymore. But whatever it was, however out of her control it might be, it couldn't control her either. She was still her own person, for the moment.

And that meant so was Acherai, and that worried her.

It wasn't that he was a bad person, exactly. It was that he wasn't a good one. He tried to humor her often enough, and he didn't seem quite as absolutely mercenary as Kagain, but he had made it clear enough that he was more interested in his own benefit than in helping the innocent.

She could trust herself to resist darker temptation, inner demons. But whatever that force within her might have been, Acherai had it too. And she was not at all sure she could trust him.

She sighed. "Well," she said to nobody in particular, "perhaps I can serve as a conscience to him, if nothing else. It's not as if I have anything else to do with my time, at the moment, unless I happen to luck onto a valuable antique book to go talk to Imoen."

"Grrrrrrrrr…" said a reply from behind her.

She winced, spinning on the sound, sword in hand. "Or I am eaten by a gnoll. How charming."

There were three of them, and she cursed herself for being so caught up in her thoughts that she had not heard them sooner, because they were hardly stealthy. Like kobolds, they held some canine features mixed with a humanoid body, but the similarities ended there; while a kobold was a scrawny thing that a decently built human could end with a good kick, gnolls tended toward the huge. The three approaching her now were each easily a foot taller than her, and the halberds they carried, while a bit rusted and dull, still looked very capable of killing her horribly.

She charged them, head on, and unlike just a few days ago, she did it with a plan in mind other than righteous smiting. She had always been a strong girl, and always been a natural with a sword, but the events of the last few days had shown her just how unready she had been for real combat. Most notably, the advantages to be gained from ensuring the battleground favored you.

The three gnolls had come through a copse of trees, and they were taller than her, carrying longer weapons. They would come to regret this, deeply.

The lead gnoll snarled and stabbed forward at her chest, and she caught the strike, turning the weapon to the side… and directly into a tree. The creature yipped like an angry hound as its blade was lodged into the soft wood, stuck in deep and at an angle that made yanking it out awkward at best. Its comrades tried to lunge past it, but the thing was thrashing madly to get the weapon freed, and they had to step off to the sides to get a clear strike at the human they had thought to be easy prey…

Sephiria lunged once, straight for the throat, and by the time the two flanking gnolls had cleared their path through the brush to her, they were the only two left. The first to reach her snarled its fury, and she prepared to parry… when it proved to her that while she might be improving, and quickly, she still had much to learn.

The thing threw aside its spear, leaving her parrying at thin air, and lunged for her throat with only the yellowed, wickedly sharp fangs in its own muzzle. With a start, Sephiria fell backwards, the thing's stinking weight pressing down on her, its fangs ripping at her face and hair.

Gods bless that helmet. Above and beyond letting her see the gnolls even in the darkness, she was firmly aware that she might well have gotten her face bitten off by now if she hadn't been wearing it.

She slammed her gauntleted fist into the thing's mouth, letting it break its fangs on the heavy splint gloves as it gnawed in futility. Blood and slobber flowed around her gauntlet, and she tried her hardest to stay calm because she knew that second one was coming up too, and she needed to get her sword arm free from under the thrashing bulk of this vile thing…

The second gnoll raised high its weapon, apparently preparing to chop through its own comrade to get to her. She found that offensive on several levels, but at the moment mostly the fact that she was fairly sure it could do that. She slammed her forehead into the muzzle of the creature biting at her, breaking its nose with a sickening crunch. The thing yipped, rearing back in pained instinct, trying to get off the thing that had hurt it so, struggling to breath through the blood… which was the exact wrong thing to do. Her arm free, she altered the trajectory of her blade and lunged, running the creature through and rolling forward to pin it to the earth.

And not coincidentally, to get out of the path of the descending halberd of its comrade. She felt the weapon slice the air behind her, heard it impact the ground, and the growls of the gnoll as it snarled in frustration. But she knew, also, that her sword was well and truly pinned, fallen into the same trap she had lured the enemy into. She dove for one of the discarded halberds, although she was hardly skilled with it, rationalizing that any weapon would be better than none. She whirled, her newly claimed (and very filthy, ugh) polearm at the ready…

And blinked in confusion.

The final creature stood, its weapon pulled free from the soil. But rather than lunging at her, or even simply growling in challenge, it stood stock-still, as if it were a statue. For a moment, wondered if perhaps Acherai had followed her, if this was some spell of his; and then the thing tipped forward, falling flat on its face, and she saw the black-shafted arrow sticking out of the back of its skull.

"My apologies," a voice said from the shadows. It was soft-spoken, yet still somehow harsh, as if the speaker was unused to actually saying words. "I heard the sounds of battle from some distance away. It took a moment to reach you...though it seems you needed little help. Are you injured?"

Sephiria threw down the rusted halberd, glad she hadn't had to try her luck with the clumsy thing, and took off her helmet to wipe the sweat from her brow and shake her hair out. She nodded in the direction of the new arrival as she began working her sword out of the ground. "A few scratches, but nothing severe. I can heal them myself, when I've had time to rest, and bandages will suffice until morning. My thanks for your aid, stranger."

"Kivan, of Shilmista," the source of the voice said, stepping into view, the pale moonlight illuminating his features beneath a plain brown hood, and Sephiria blinked in surprise.

He was an elf, which she had already not been expecting. All the elves she had met, even Acherai, had a certain...otherworldly grace to them. As if their every move was a dance, their every word a song, and other races simply could not hear the music. They were beautiful, in a way, but also eldritch and oddly insubstantial, like they did not quite exist in the same world as humans.

Kivan, as he introduced himself, was about as musical and insubstantial as a jagged rock at the bottom of a cliff. He was as tall as Sephiria, and nearly as broad in the arms and shoulders, unusually large for any elf. And of course, his voice, the more she heard it, had a definite rasping quality to it that left it less 'lyrical' and more like he was speaking through a mouthful of gravel. His gear, further, was plain and serviceable; worn leather armor, a simple wooden spear strapped across his back, and the massive longbow in his hands. All appeared to be of human make, well-used, and oddly rugged for something an elf would carry.

And, she noticed, both weapons were very large. If this Kivan told her that he was out here hunting bears, she would not be shocked. Of course, he might also be hunting people, so...

"I am a traveler and adventurer, most recently out of Beregost," she replied to his introduction, all technically true, but the most she felt comfortable sharing.

The elf smiled slightly at her reticence. "A traveler who does not give her name is one who has something to hide..." he paused, looking down at the bodies of the gnolls, and admitted, "...or, admittedly, one who is being hunted. Which are you?"

After a brief pause, she admitted, "... Hunted. By the same group that killed my father."

Pain flashed behind Kivan's eyes, visible to her even in the dim light. "Then you have my sympathy. These are dark days, and many have such tales of loss to tell. I recommend you return to your group and stay with them, for numbers are certainly safer. But first, I must ask: the group who attacked you. Were they, perhaps, members of the Black Talon company? Or the Chill, perhaps? They sometimes employ gnolls, were these three vermin connected to them in any way?"

Sephiria fought to hide her surprise. The elf's gruff tone had gone from what sounded like honest pity to a barely contained, icy rage she was honestly a bit unnerved by. "I… no. Or at least, I do not know for certain. Who are these groups?"

"The 'bandit' attacks that have plagued the region. They are not performed by bandits at all, but by members of these two organizations," Kivan said flatly, a snarl of anger audible even under the normal rumble of his voice. "They are mercenary companies, attacking caravans and travelers to collect iron because they are being paid to do so. I know not their employer, but it matters not. They need to be stopped, and I have… personal reasons to seek their destruction. That is all you need to know, at the moment."

Well. That was news to her. Despite the odd circumstances and the elf's obviously dark mood, she began to feel a certain elation at the notion. Even as she had feared for the future of the group, an obvious solution had fallen into her lap. The iron crisis that gripped the region had killed or ruined the lives of at least hundreds of people, probably even more. Stopping a group exacerbating it was clearly a good act, a clear White in the shades of grey that had made up her life of late. And best of all, it was not as if Acherai… or even Kagain, as vile as he was!...could argue with the merits of fixing the economy of the region in which they lived and did business.

And if, during this quest, she took the chance to whisper in Acherai's ear on occasion, show him the value of acting in such a way, the simple joy and satisfaction that were to be found in protecting the innocent and helping the helpless, well, that was a very nice bonus indeed. If it was at all possible to change his outlook, she needed to do it. He was not precisely a friend, but he was a comrade-in-arms, and she was aware she would very likely be dead if not for him. Letting his soul be overtaken by this shared presence that infected them both was not something she could, in good conscience, do. If she could resist it, then so could he; she merely needed to show him how.

"Sir Kivan," she said brightly. "Allow me to re-introduce myself. I am Sephiria, a paladin of the god Torm, and an adventurer most interested in the quest you have outlined. If you seek aid in your battle against these brigands, then I am pleased to offer my sword, and the swords and spells of my allies as well."

Kivan arched an eyebrow. "A paladin? That explains your skill, for certain, but can you be sure the rest of your party will not object? I have no reward to offer save my services in your own quests, and many would not find that enough."

Sephiria smiled. "You are fortunate, then, that our own quest at the moment should not be long-lived, and will take us no further than Beregost. We need merely to turn in a small item for the bounty on a criminal we detained, and to find an individual we believe may be connected to the… the loss of my father. It should take little enough time once we find this 'Tranzig,' though I fear that Acherai and Kagain might be less than merciful in their efforts to extract information from him."

Kivan laughed bitterly at that. "A paladin indeed. Only someone like that would speak of mercy for the man who killed her father."

Sephiria sighed. "I… I'm not sure. On the one hand, yes, I… want them to pay. More than almost anything. But on the other, I wonder if that is the right thing for me to want. I've been having doubts, lately, but… I think that maybe, more than ever, my morals need to guide me. And that may mean making harder choices than usual."

Kivan smiled, but there was more sadness than anything in his eyes. "Then you have my envy, child, as well as my pity. I fear that someday… you will find those views far too hard to uphold, but for now, I wish I could hold as tightly to my code as you do."

"Well," Sephiria said lightly, horribly uncomfortable and seeking something that might help lighten the mood, "this Tranzig character appears to be little more than a catspaw in any event. Perhaps when we find the 'Tazok' that he reports to, my temper will fail me, but until th-"

She was cut off, then, by Kivan's hand clamping down on her shoulder with enough force she felt it even through her armor. "What did you say?!" he snarled, his eyes wide with a manic fury, and… she noticed with a great deal of shock and not a small amount of fear, as she looked at him more closely than she liked, he had a jagged scar across his throat, and trailing down below the collar of his undershirt.

His voice had not sounded 'elven' to her because, quite clearly, his vocal cords had been damaged when someone had slit his throat.

"You… your neck…" she whispered.

"Was slashed open, and I was left to die," he hissed, "by the same monster that killed the only person I have ever loved, and ruined my life. He tortured my wife to death while I watched. While he forced me to watch. For hours. For pleasure. And then, when he was done, he slit my throat personally, and threw me into a cold ditch by the side of the road, next to what was left of the love of my life.

"And his name was Tazok. And you hunt him?" Kivan finished, his voice low, and cold, and full of more malice than Sephiria had ever heard.

She shuddered, but nodded. "We… are, yes. We don't know for certain, but… his is the name we have."

"Then know that I will gladly serve you with my life, with two condition," Kivan said, very softly. "First, Tazok will die when we find him. And when he dies, the last thing he sees is my arrow plunging into his heart."

Sephiria shuddered once again. There was no light in his eyes, not in the literal sense like with Acherai, but deep down, under her skin, she could feel it.

Murder. Blood calling to blood, the need for it. Is it always so bad? Does it not serve a needed purpose? Does this man not deserve his revenge? Is his rage not justified? Would the spilling of his foe's blood not bring relief and justice to many?

Follow the call of your blood. It will not lead you astray…

She shook her head, growling in frustration. "We will… discuss it. For now, come with me. I'll show you the group, and we'll talk it over."

She turned in the direction of the camp, and led the strange elf toward her companions, feeling better at the thought of having more armed people around her. It wasn't that she distrusted Kivan, really, though he was a questionable sort. She firmly believed that his hatred was directed firmly, and only, at Tazok.

She distrusted herself, though. As she walked, she glanced down at the corpses of the gnolls, and shuddered again. It had been so easy to kill them. She hadn't even had to think about it. She had just defended herself without though, and… and she wasn't sure when that would stop. Or if it should.

Ugh. She had thought she'd worked this out, but once again the universe didn't make sense.

Look on the bright side, she thought dryly, as she walked. At least there were only three of them. I would certainly hate to find any more.

(*)

"Um. So," Imoen said, hopping back down into the crag from her scouting mission. "I have good news, and bad news. First, and this is the good news, I found the gnoll fortress!

"The bad news is there's… y'know. I checked around the edges, and there's only one way in. The walls are too high to climb, and the only entrance is up a slope with about ten guards. But I was able to climb a tree near the outer wall and see inside. And there's... erm. Well, as for gnolls, I counted... forty of them."."

The silence was painfully deep for a painfully long time, before Minsc said, "I shall take the twenty on the left!"

"So. We are going to die, then?" Jaheira asked sadly.

"I have been saying that for days and you only now begin listening to me?" Xan muttered.

"Not," Imoen said brightly, "if we can take the twenty on the right!"

Jaheira did not sob, but it was a near thing.