The crowd parted to allow a green-robed gnome woman to pass. Respectful silence filled the room as Gellana Mirrorshade, the high priestess of Garl Glittergold and the widow of Bentley Mirrorshade, made her way to her husband’s bier. She carried herself with admirable dignity. Her pale brown face was set in rigid lines, but her eyes were steady and dry.

The priestess spoke into the silence. “You are gathered here to see justice done. It is no small thing to speak with the dead, but an evil deed must not go unpunished.”

Gellana began the words and gestures of a complicated ritual. Danilo watched closely; nothing about the spell was familiar to him. He had studied magic since his twelfth year with no less a teacher than the archmage Khelben Arunsun, but the magic of a wizard and that of a priest were very different things. Apparently, the priestess was stifled and devout, for a translucent image of Bentley Mirrorshade slowly took form in the air above the pall.

“The dead must speak truth,” Gellana said softly, “and in life or in death, Bentley Mirrorshade would tell no direct lie. Tell us, my husband, who is responsible for this death.”

The specter’s eyes swept the assemblage. His stubby, translucent finger lifted, swept to the left, and leveled at Elaith Craulnober with a sharp, accusing stab.

For the first time in their acquaintance, Danilo saw the elf’s composure utterly forsake him. Elaith’s face went slack and ashen, and his amber-hued eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

“What nonsense is this?” the elf protested as soon as he could gather enough of his wits to fuel speech. “I am innocent of this thing!”

“Silence!” Gellana demanded. She held a jeweled dagger up for the ghostly gnome’s inspection. “Was this the weapon used?”

The spectral head rose and fell once, slowly, in a nod of confirmation. Despite the gravity of the occasion, Danilo could not help but observe that the gnome’s spirit had a remarkable flair for drama.

“And whose dagger is this?” persisted Gellana.

“It belongs to the elf,” proclaimed the spirit. It is Elaith Craulnober’s dagger.”

Gellana Mirrorshade’s eyes were hard as they swept the gathering. “Have you heard enough? May I release my husband, and in his name order the death of this treacherous elf?”

A murmur arose, gathering power and fury. The accused elf stood alone in an angry circle of gnomes, buffeted by a storm of accusation and demands for immediate retribution. Elaith’s eyes went flat and cool, and his chin lifted with elven hauteur as he faced his death.

That gesture, that purely elven mixture of pride and courage and disdain, was to be his salvation. Danilo had always been a fool for all things elven, and this moment proved no exception. He sighed and quickly cast a cantrip that would add power and persuasion to his voice.

“Wait,” he demanded.

The single word thrummed through the great hall like a clarion blast, and the gnomes fell suddenly silent. Garith Hunterstock froze, his sword poised to cut the elf down. Danilo reached out and gently eased the gnome’s blade away from Elaith Craulnober’s throat. “The elf claims innocence,” the Harper said. “We should at least hear him out, and consider the possibility that he speaks truth.”

“Bentley Mirrorshade himself accused the elf’!” shouted a high-pitched gnomish voice from the crowd.

“The dead do not lie!” another small voice added.

“That is true enough,” Dan agreed in a conciliatory tone, “but perhaps there is some other explanation that will serve both truths.” Inspiration struck, and he glanced at Arilyn. She stood near the back of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows. “Earlier this evening, Elajth Craulnober was seen meeting with a known thief and assassin. Perhaps this man stole the dagger, and used it to kill the gnome?”

“That is not possible,” Arilyn said flatly. “The assassin was dead before Bentley Mirrorshade’s murder.”

“Dead?” Garith Hunterstock said, turning a fierce glare in her direction. “By whose hand?”

The Harper didn’t flinch. “Mine.” she said simply. “He attacked me; I defended myself. You will find his body behind the smokehouse.”

“And who might you be?” demanded the gnome.

The half-elf slipped down her cowl and stepped into the firelight. Before she could speak, a young gnome clad in forest green let out a startled exclamation. “I know her! She’s the Harper who fought alongside the elves of Tethyr’s forest. If she says the stiff behind the smoke- house needed killing, that’s good enough for me. If she speaks for yonder elf, I say that’s call to think things over real careful.”

Dozens of expectant faces turned in Arilyn’s direction. Danilo saw the flicker of regret in her eyes as she met Elaith’s stare, and he knew what her answer would be.

“I cannot,” she said bluntly. “On the other hand, it never hurts to think things over. Lord Thann has apparently appointed himself Elaith Craulnober’s advocate. Give them time-two days, perhaps-to prove the elf’s claim of innocence. I know of Bentley Mirrorshade, and nothing I’ve heard suggests that he would want anyone denied a fair hearing.”

A soft, angry mutter greeted her words, but no one could think of a way to refute them. Garith Hunterstock ordered the elf taken away and imprisoned. The others left, too, slipping away in silence to leave Gellana Mirror shade alone with her dead.

As the sun edged over the eastern battlements of the fortress, Danilo made his way down the tightly spiraling stairs that led to the dungeon. It was a dank, gloomy place, lit only by an occasional sputtering torch thrust into a rusted sconce.

Since Elaith was the only prisoner, his cell was not hard to find. Danilo followed the faint light to the far corner of the dungeon. The elf’s cell was small, the ceiling too low for him to stand upright. The only furniture was a straw pallet. Elaith wore only his leggings and shirt, and his thumbs were entrapped in opposite ends of a metal tube, a gnomish device of some sort designed to make spellcasting impossible. He had been stripped of weapons, armor, and magical items. These lay heaped in an impressive pile, well beyond reach of the cell.

Danilo eyed the glittering hoard. “Did you actually wear all that steel? It’s a wonder you could walk without clanking,” he marveled.

The elf’s furious, amber-eyed glare reminded Danilo of a trapped hawk. “Come to gloat?”

“Perhaps later,” he said mildly. “At the moment, though, I would rather hear what you have to say.”

“And you would believe me, I suppose?”

“I would listen. That seems a reasonable place to start.” The elf was silent for a long moment. “I did not kill the gnome.”

“You know, of course, how difficult it is for the dead to lie,” Danilo pointed out. “The spirit of Bentley Mirror-shade named you as his killer. The weapon that dealt the killing stroke is yours. The proof against you is formidable.”

“Nevertheless, I am innocent,” Elaith maintained. A sudden, fierce light went on in his eyes. “I am innocent, and you must find proof’!”

“Really, now!” Dan protested, lifting one eyebrow in a wry expression. “Since I have a full two days, shouldn’t I warm up with an easier task? Pilfering Elminster’s favorite pipe maybe, or bluffing an illithid at cards, or persuading Arilyn to dance upon a tavern table?”

The elf ignored the obvious irony. “When you signed on to travel with my caravan you promised your support and aid to the expedition.”

“Insofar as its purpose was lawful and just,” Danilo specified.

“What better way to fulfill this pledge than to clear an innocent person, unjustly accused? And why would you speak for me in the tavern, if you had no intention of following through?”

The Harper thought this over. “Those are both excellent points. Very well, then, let’s assume for argument’s sake that I will take on this task. Consider my dilemma. Even under the best of circumstances, ‘innocent’ is not the first word that comes to mind when your name is mentioned.”