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chance to make his penance, of course.
After which they would either take Rhonin back in chains or execute him on the spot. The Knights of the
Silver Hand might be a holy order, but they were also known for their expedience in meting out justice.
Vereesa excused herself from the senior paladin, not trusting her tongue to keep her from infuriating him
at this point. She led her horse to a tree at the edge of the campsite, then slipped in among the trees.
Behind her, the sounds of the camp muted as the elf moved farther into her own element.
Again she felt the temptation to continue with the search on her own. So very easy for her to move lithely
through the forest, seek out those crevices and areas of thick foliage that might hide a corpse.
Always so eager to go rushing off, handling matters in your own inimitable style, eh, Vereesa? her first
tutor had asked one day shortly after her induction into the select training program of the rangers. Only
the best were chosen for their ranks. With such impatience, you might as well have been born a human.
Keep this up and you will not be among the rangers for very long. . . .
Yet despite the skepticism of more than one of her tutors, Vereesa had prevailed and risen to among the
best of her select group. She could not now fail that training by turning reckless.
Promising herself that she would return to the others after a few minutes' relaxation in the forest, the
silverhaired ranger leaned against one of the trees and exhaled. Such a simple assignment, and already it
had nearly fallen apart not once but twice. If they never found Rhonin, she would have to think of
something to say to her masters, not to mention even the Kirin Tor of Dalaran. None of the fault in this
lay with her, but
A sudden gust of wind nearly threw Vereesa from the tree. The elf managed to cling to it at the last
moment, but in the distance she could hear the frustrated calls of the knights and the wild clattering of
loose objects tossed about.
As quickly as the wind struck, it suddenly died away. Vereesa pushed her disheveled hair from her face
and hurried back to camp, fearful that Duncan and the others had been attacked by some terrible force
akin to the dragon earlier that day. Fortunately, even as she approached, the ranger heard the paladins
already discussing the repair of their camp, and as she entered the area, Vereesa saw that, other than
bedrolls and other objects lying strewn about, no one seemed much out of sorts.
Lord Senturus strode toward her, eyes filled with concern. You are well, milady? No harm has come to
you?
Nothing. The wind surprised me, that is all.
Surprised everyone. He rubbed his bearded jaw, gazing into the darkened forest. It strikes me that no
normal wind blows in such a manner. . . . He turned to one of his men. Roland! Double the guard! This
may not be the end of this particular storm!
Aye, milord! a slim, pale knight called back. Christoff! Jakob! Get
His voice cut off with such abruptness that both Duncan, who had turned back to the elf, and Vereesa
looked to see if the man had suddenly been struck down by an arrow or crossbow bolt. Instead, they
found him staring at a dark bundle lying amidst the bedrolls, a dark bundle with legs stretched together
and arms crossed over the chest, almost as if in deathly repose.
A dark bundle gradually recognizable as Rhonin.
Vereesa and the knights gathered around him, one of the men holding a torch near. The elf bent down to
investigate the body. In the flickering light of the torch, Rhonin looked pale and still, and at first she could
not tell whether he breathed or not. Vereesa reached for his cheek
And the eyes of the mage opened wide, startling everyone.
Ranger . . . how nice . . . to see you again. . . .
With that, his eyes closed once more and Rhonin fell asleep.
Fool of a wizard! Duncan Senturus snapped. You'll not up and vanish after good men have died, then
think you can simply reappear in our midst and go to sleep! He reached for the spellcaster's arm,
intending to shake Rhonin awake, but let out a startled cry the moment his fingers touched the dark
garments. The paladin gazed at his gauntleted hand as if he had been bitten, snarling, Some sort of
devilish, unseen fire surrounds him! Even through the glove it felt like seizing hold of a burning ember!
Despite his warning, Vereesa had to see for herself. Sure enough, she felt some discomfort when her
fingers touched Rhonin's clothes, but nothing of the intensity that Lord Senturus had described.
Nevertheless, the ranger pulled back her hand and nodded agreement. She saw no reason at the moment
why she should inform the senior paladin of the difference.
Behind her Vereesa heard the scrape of steel as it slid from its sheath. She quickly glanced up at
Duncan, who had already begun shaking his head at the knight in question. No, Wexford, a Knight of
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