Soldiers of Ice by Cook David

Author:Cook, David [Cook, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781560766414
Published: 1993-12-24T00:00:00+00:00

Soldiers of Ice

159

now. Mistress Martine, you will attend.” Elder Sumalo’s decision was quick and precise, and nobody, not even Martine, thought to question his authority as the whitebearded old priest began to march to the council chamber. “Reko, play something soothing,” he advised the bard in passing.

The old fiddler nodded and set his bow to the strings. As Martine left Vii in the dance hall, she heard the strains of a gentle lullaby swell behind her.

The raucous dissonance of debate began even before the knot of gnomes who preceded Martine had clambered onto the tiers in the council hall. Worming through the spectators jammed around the door, the human woman reached

the edge of the tiers at the council floor. All eyes were on her, curious and wary, but the debaters never paused to acknowledge her presence.

Over the buzz of excited voices, Sumalo finally made his voice heard, pounding the floorboards with the speaker’s rod.

“Speak in the common tongue!” the priest bellowed

hoarsely to a knot of elders who spoke in a dialect so ancient Martine could barely understand it. ‘q’he outsider must understand our words!” A grumbled sigh ran through the Vani, but they complied with his command.

Elder Sumalo continued quickly before the pandemonium could begin anew. ‘q’he question before the council is what to do now about the gnolls outside. This human, Mistress Martine, has recently been their prisoner. I ask her now to tell us what she saw.”

His iron charms jingled as the priest waddled forward to present Martine with the speaker’s rod. Respectful of their traditions, she kissed the smooth wood before beginning her tale.

The hall was packed tight with gnomes, with the whitebeards in the lowest tiers, while the farmers and woodsmen filled the upper benches. Martine faced them, acutely nervous to be speaking before them.

Where do I begin? she thought, her mind reeling. Should I tell them about the rift? It was a Harper mission, and after all, Harpers and their jobs were supposed to be secret. It was a time-honored principle that the less said, the better.

The ranger decided to avoid any mention of the details of her assignment. The recounting began with the events of her capture. Martine’s audience craned forward, engrossed in the details. The Harper did her best to assess the number and skill of the gnolls. She stressed the actions of the WordMaker, pointing out that Krote’s absence deprived the tribe of their medicine man.

Heads waggled when she reminded them of the prisoner.

Voices thick with accents murmured darkly, but none rose to interrupt her. Sumalo listened impassively, his head nodding, while Jouka fidgeted and fingered his sword nervously.

Turf, his ear cocked to catch every word, leaned

forward attentively on his wooden bench.

The calm broke into storm when she described the

arrival of Vreesar. Leaping to his feet, Jouka Tunkelo seized on her revelation. “A fiend—a thing of the elements?

Where did this come fi.om, human? What have you failed to tell us?” A chorus of murmuring, even from the whitebearded front tiers, supported his question.

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