"Melann," Whitlock said, "remember when that dwarves came to Archendale and they couldn't speak our language? That old priest-Thontoman, I think his name was-cast a spell that allowed him to speak with them. Can you do that?"

Melann was breathing heavily as she ran up.

"No.” she replied. "That's not a power at my command."

"I can speak to it," Vheod said. Whitlock noticed that the half-demon wasn't breathing heavily at all. Both Melann and Vheod approached and stood over Whitlock and his prisoner. "Assuming he can speak to anyone."

Whitlock slapped the gnoll's bloody snout a few times-not hard, but enough so it would notice. "Wake up," he spat.

The gnoll began to shake its head. Its eyes focused, and the warrior made sure it saw his blade before he put it back at its neck. "Don't try anything, monster."

Vheod concentrated for a moment, then bent over the creature to touch it.

"Do not attempt to flee, or you will die," Vheod said, in the common tongue.

The gnoll grunted and growled. "What are you doing here?" Vheod asked. The gnoll bared its teeth, and Whitlock could see its black gums. While it smelled of musk and feces, its breath was much worse, stinking of rancid meat. "Tell us or you will die," Vheod's voice took on a cold quality that sent a chill down Whitlock's back.

The gnoll silently moved its head back and forth for a moment, then made noises like barking and grunting.

"He can understand what you're saying?" Melann asked from behind both Vheod and Whitlock. "You sound as though you're speaking normally."

Vheod didn't turn his gaze from the captive. "He can not understand the actual words I speak, exactly, but I can make him understand what I mean- and I can understand what he means."

She paused to consider this, and Vheod resumed the interrogation. "Why were you here? Were you looking for us?"

The gnoll responded with a few short grunts, then a string of unintelligible growls.

"It says," Vheod said, still focused on the gnoll, "that it wasn't here looking for us, but something else."

"They were expecting someone else along this path?" Whitlock asked.

"No, something, it said," Vheod reached into his pocket, and pulled forth the small green stone.

"Is this what you were looking for?" Vheod asked. Though he couldn't understand the gnoll's crude speech, Whitlock could tell by the sudden look of recognition in its eyes that the answer was yes.

"What are they? What are they for?" Vheod asked sternly, still holding up the green stone that glistened, like the wet leaves around them.

The creature spoke again, and Vheod translated, "It says they must gather these lost stones to bring to their master."

"Who in the Nine Hells is their master?" Whitlock demanded.

Vheod gave Whitlock a questioning look, but they asked the gnoll and got a reply. "It says its master is The who has called to its people.' The who will soon awaken from a long sleep.' It doesn't have a name for this master."

"That's why there're so many gnolls in the area” Melann interjected. "Someone has been calling then here."

"Chare'en," Vheod stated flatly. "Is that what the creature said?" Melann asked. "No, not by name." Vheod shook his head. "Look," Whitlock said, "we can talk about that later. Are there more questions we need to ask this thing?"

Vheod proceeded to ask if there were more gnolls nearby, but the creature replied that most of the gnolls in this area were killed or chased off by something it didn't know or understand.

“That sounds bad," Whitlock said. He cleared his throat, not wanting Melann to hear the worry in his voice.

"Perhaps it means the crypt," Melann said suddenly "Perhaps something about the crypt of Chare'en frightened the gnolls away. If we head toward it, we won't have to worry about them while we're there."

"Perhaps," Whitlock said slowly, "but that doesn't mean we don't have to be worried about whatever it is they're afraid of." "True," she agreed.

Vheod sighed audibly. "I doubt there's anything more we can get from this creature." "Now what?" Melann asked.

Vheod turned to her, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do we do with our… prisoner?" She looked to Whitlock, who still watched over the gnoll.

Whitlock raised his sword suddenly and brought the pommel down on its head. With a heavy thud, the creature's face fell to one side, and its eyes closed. Whitlock stood, brushed himself off, and walked to where the gnoll's weapon had dropped.

Picking up the club, he said "By the time the creature wakes up we'll be long gone and won't have to worry about any others it might talk to."

Melann sighed, turned and walked back to her horse. Whitlock heard her mutter a prayer to Chauntea under her breath, imploring her to guide them along the right path.

Whitlock lingered back to walk alongside Vheod for a moment. He recognized Vheod's surprise at their comparative leniency toward the gnoll, and knew what Vheod would have done.

He whispered tersely to Vheod., "We don't kill prisoners here, demon," then sped past him, going to gather his own horse.

The travelers said little after their encounter and "conversation" with the gnoll. That night the ground was still wet from the morning rains, so they made their camp in the driest area they could find. The top of a large hill provided a small, flat area suitable for the three of them and the two horses. Their packs offered little to eat, but none of them really seemed to care. Clouds obscured the moon and stars more than the mountains ever could, conjuring an utterly black night. Their fire provided the only light, and they kept it very small so as not to draw too much attention.

As they prepared to sleep, Whitlock took Melann aside to speak with her. They stood in the edges of shadow and light, their faces masked in darkness but their eyes sparkling from the campfire.

"I've been thinking," he began in hushed tones, "about our new traveling companion."

Melann said nothing.

"What if this is all some sort of elaborate ruse? What if he's working with the gnolls for some purpose? His sudden appearance seemed awfully convenient, as did his supposed translation of what the gnoll was saying. How do we know if it really said those things?"

"I don't believe all that," Melann told him, “not for a moment. Why go to all that trouble?"

"To keep us away from the Crypt of Chare'en, for some reason," Whitlock whispered intently.

"Why not just kill us, if that was his intent? He's obviously powerful enough." She shook her head, then continued, "I just can't believe Vheod is somehow leading us into a trap or lying to us. Chauntea would never guide us into such a situation, and I still believe Chauntea is guiding us. She has to be-how else could everything that's happened be explained?" Whitlock just stared at her, working his jaw, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I hope Vheod is wrong about the nature of Chare'en," Melann said, "but that doesn't mean he's going to betray us. What it comes down to is that I believe in Vheod's sincerity. I envy the strength he must have to struggle against his nature and win. I can hardly imagine what it must be like to be in conflict with your own soul, or at least a part of it! Everyone's tempted by evil-that's a part of what evil it is, after all-but his temptations must be unimaginable. You might think that makes it easy to expect the worst of Vheod, but I can only see it as a challenge worthy of the noblest of souls. Such a soul must belong to Vheod."

"I said, you've got a point."

"What?" Melann was shocked out of her speech by her brother. He must have spoken while she was rambling on. "Oh, sorry."

"I don't know why he wouldn't just try to kill us."? Whitlock whispered, "so well assume you're right for now, but I assure you, I'm going to be watching him. If he's plotting against us, I’ll know."