"Really? I've never been inside one before." Jazrac's face brightened as he peered at the walls with renewed interest "No wonder I was confused about the small size."

"You don't intend to stay here, do you?" Martine ventured. She pointed to the bed piled with things, a mound already twice the size of the wizard's small valise.

"I've come to talk with you," Jazrac easily replied, avoiding the question. His gray eyes were dark pits rimmed by deep creases, his sharp nose a brilliant highlight. Martine couldn't guess her mentor's thoughts behind his veiled expression, and so filled that void of knowledge with fearful imaginings.

Jazrac put her fears to naught with a shrug. "Well, I should explain for Master Baltson's sake, I suppose." With a flourish of his cape, the mage sat on the edge of the bed. The stack of scrolls behind him teetered ominously.

"I'm a Harper, and this young lady is a Harper, too." Jazrac paused, awaiting some sort of reaction.

There was only silence. No gasped breath, no protestation of disbelief.

"So she told me," Vil said calmly.

Jazrac looked crestfallen that his dramatic announcement had been spoiled. With one eye cocked toward Martine, he continued, "Well, we're normally not supposed to reveal that, but I'm the reason Martine's here. I sent her on a mission-"

"I know. To close the rift." Vil's bland interruption once again foiled the wizard's theatrics. Now Jazrac fixed both eyes on Martine, missing the former paladin's mischievous grin.

"Well, anyway," Jazrac continued coldly, "since I hadn't heard from my protege for some time, and then I get two alarming messages, I thought it best I come to see if all's well. We Harpers do that sort of thing," he added cavalierly. "Indeed."

Jazrac made a stab at small talk as he rebalanced the scrolls behind him. "I don't imagine you know what a bother it can be, keeping tabs on each other. You seem more the independent type. You probably never had to worry about anybody else, eh?"

Martine bit her lip; she knew Vil was once a paladin. She didn't know much about paladins, but she did know their lives were committed to serving others. Vil merely smiled wryly. "Oh, I've had a few duties in my life."

"Indeed! Then you do understand how it is. I've come to see if everything is well-" here the mage hesitated significantly "and talk Harper business with Martine." He paused broadly, spreading his hands in an obvious hint. When Vil failed to move, Jazrac cleared his throat. "Harper business. Private Harper business."

"I see," Vil answered with mock naivete. "You want me to leave."

Vil was mocking jazrac, the woman knew, though she couldn't guess just why. It probably had something to do with the traditional rivalry between paladins and wizards. She'd never known the two groups to get along well. Paladins were painfully noble and suspected the motives of most sorcerers; which naturally irritated the sorcerers. If I were a wizardress, it'd annoy me, too, she thought. Fortunately in this case, Jazrac didn't even notice the warrior's mocking tone. Perhaps he assumed Vil was simply dense. Martine had been around the warrior enough to know that wasn't true.

It was time to intervene, though, just in case Vil got out of hand.

"Jazrac, can't this wait until tomorrow?" Martine pleaded as she pushed herself wearily from the wall she'd been slumping against. `These last several days have been really hard on me. Nothing's going to change by tomorrow"

The mage's eyes wrinkled at her suggestion. "I think we should talk now. I'd like to know everything that has happened." His tone was all authority.

"I71 go see how the Vani are doing," the warrior volunteered graciously. "I'll be back in about an hour." Vil sheathed his sword and quickly made his departure.

Although she didn't want the warrior around for what was certain to be an unpleasant conversation, Martine still couldn't help feeling she was being abandoned. She waited stiffly for the wizard to speak. Without a knife in hand, her fingers knitted and clenched nervously.

Jazrac coolly brushed some invisible dust from his clothes before he looked at Martine. The mask of affability he'd maintained since he arrived was gone.

"Now, tell me just what has been happening here," he demanded calmly. "First I read that clever little 'Captured by gnolls' message. Then after days of silence, you suddenly report that everything is fine but your prize mount is dead. What is going on, anyway?"

Martine tried to swallow, then offered meekly, "I closed the rift and I've got your keystone."

"Well, that's good to hear, though I already knew about the rift. Both Elminster and I detected the change in the balance. of things up here. What I want to know is the rest." Jazrac stared at her, waiting for her answer.

Martine suddenly remembered a prayer to Lady Tymora she'd learned when she was young. Unfortunately, the memory had come too late for her to use it.

"Astriphie died on the glacier," Martine murmured. Her voice cracked as she thought of the hippogriff lying broken and gutted on the ice.

"Details, Martine, always details. Now, how did the beast die?"

Oh, gods, what do I tell him? That I pushed Astriphie too close to the geyser? Or should I leave that part out? "Astriphie got caught in a windstorm at the rift and was blown out of the sky. The hippogriff died when we landed. I thought it was important to get as close to the rift as possible in order to get done quickly." Martine found herself wringing her hands, feeling like an apprentice reciting her lessons.

"Hmmm" was Jazrac's only comment. "Then what happened?"

The woman avoided the wizard's unwavering gaze, looking instead at the wood grain in the bare walls. "Then I closed the rift, like you showed me. And then something caught me." Martine hurried through the last part, vainly hoping Vil would overlook it.

"Something?" the senior Harper asked pointedly.

"It was a thing of ice and cold. It called itself Vreesar," Martine explained. "There was another creature with it. A mephit, I think. I killed it."

"Hmmm." This time the pause was longer and more profound. "Some type of elemental, no doubt," the wizard murmured to himself. "And did you kill this creature as well or send it back where it came from as you were instructed?" "I couldn't send it back, Jazrac. The rift was already closed." Feeling frustrated at the impossibility of the question and the need to defend her actions, the woman carefully undid the top strings of her blouse and pulled it open to reveal her shoulder. Livid unhealed scars were etched lightninglike across her skin. 'That's what the little one did to me. I'd crashed, I was half frozen, and I had broken a couple of ribs. I couldn't fight it. It's only by the luck of Tymora that I'm still alive. At least I closed your rift for you. And," she added as she closed her blouse and furiously dug through her pouch, "I brought back your damned stone! Isn't that enough?" Biting back her words so she didn't completely lose her temper, she slapped the stone onto a bare patch of the bed.

Jazrac shook his head. "I'm sorry, Martine," he offered, though he didn't sound particularly sorry. "I'm sorry, my dear, if this is unpleasant for you, but if you want to be a true Harper, then you must realize that the bare minimum is not enough. This creature-Vreesar, was it? should have been dealt with. You should have called for help."

"I didn't have the chance," she protested. "I was captured by the gnolls." In her nervous state, she started to pace the small room like a caged cat.

"You were able to get me a message, young woman," the wizard reminded her. "You could have added one word: `HelP.' OP

"'Captured by gnolls' wasn't clear enough? It was all I could think of at the time."

Jazrac grabbed her by the arm as she paced by. "You're supposed to be a Harper. I can't go running every time you have a little problem. You're supposed to be able to take care of yourself."