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"No," she said. "It belongs to you." She picked it up and hurled it at his face. Tyrrell dodged too slowly and it struck him in the neck. He instinctively grasped at his throat as blood flowed down his chest. Ardeth stood watching as he attempted a few steps toward her, but he collapsed from the pain and blood loss before he could reach her. She smiled like a naughty child as his bloodstained hand reached in her direction and grasped only air.

"Thanks for the help," she said as she leaped over Tyrrell. Within heartbeats, she was through his door and gone.

Through the haze of death, and the blood dripping in his eyes, Tyrrell saw a new face. Was it real, or was he dreaming it? he wondered. The image spun-a huge red nose on a shrunken face.

The face spoke. "She's very good, isn't she?"

Without moving to help him, the gnome waited until Tyrrell rattled with death. Then he reached over to extract the bone dagger from Tyrrell's neck, freeing a tide of blood that swelled the puddle on the floor.

* * * * *

What am I doing here? thought Kellin. Children lurked outside her tent to try to get a glimpse of her, so exotic a creature was she in these northern lands. They regarded her little differently than they might a dark-skinned visitor from Zakhara-any place outside the North was the same to them, and any visitor who looked different was an object of curiosity and fear.

Kellin liked and respected Sungar, and Thluna seemed like a man far beyond his years, yet with boyish wonder and enthusiasm. But they were the only Thunderbeasts she'd spoken to in the days since she'd arrived. She'd taken her meals with the tribe, but they seemed scared of her, especially when she spoke to them in their own language. The women particularly looked at her with disdain, as if she were there to steal their men-as laughable a notion as that was.

Kellin could hear the voices of those who had tried to dissuade her from coming here.

"I can understand it perfectly," one of the Candlekeep lorekeepers told her. "Your whole childhood was spent safely locked away here, while your father wandered the world in search of adventures. But such a venture is foolhardy and dangerous." Kellin's denials hardly even convinced herself.

She heard footsteps approaching outside her tent and instinctively reached for the hilt of her father's sword.

"May I speak with you?" came a deep voice, speaking uncertain Common.

Kellin stood and opened the tent flap. She instantly knew who the man was by his brown eyes, but from the stories she'd heard, she hadn't expected him to look quite so gentle and innocent.

"Vell the Blessed," she said, using the Uthgardt tongue. "I've heard a lot about you. I am honored that you've come to see me."

"The honor is mine," Vell said, staring deeply at her face. He stared so long, in fact, that he pulled away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"No," she laughed. "It's fine. I've gotten the same reaction from most of your people."

"Your parents… where did they come from?" asked Vell.

She admired his directness. "My mother was of Tethyrian blood. I've inherited something of her skin tone, and hopefully some of her good sense as well." She smiled. "My father was born in the Moonsea region, in a place called Melvaunt."

"I see," said Vell, though Kellin suspected she'd named a few places he'd never heard of. "Our chieftain tells me the Thunderbeast sent you here."

"All I know is that when I touched that piece of bone, I heard a message of some kind, and it led me here."

"Will you be coming into the forest with us?" asked Vell.

"I don't know," Kellin confessed. "Sungar says he hasn't decided, and I haven't decided if I should."

"I hope you do. We can protect you."

"I can fight," said Kellin, half-smiling. "So can the women of your tribe-they've proven it many times in your history. But I'm not sure if my place is on this expedition. I don't really belong."

Vell reached over with a clumsy hand to comfort her in her uncertainty.