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"You have no friends, thief!"
Mertwig lunged at the young elf, who dodged back against his assembled kin. Canpho and several other elves grabbed the dwarf and held him back. "Dwarves!" muttered one old elf, his icy blue eyes reflecting the belief in elven superiority that was one of the least attractive attributes of the race. Tanis, himself the frequent target of hatred by both humans and elves, felt his heart go out to the brave dwarf who dared to live among elves.
"I saw him!" insisted the youth, his soft, pallid cheeks quivering with indignation. "He came out of Azurakee's house with a bag over his shoulder. I went in after he left, and all the valuables were gone. Stolen! He robbed the dead!"
"Lies!" countered Mertwig, sweat slick on his slanting brow. "Don't listen to him!"
"What proof have you?" Canpho demanded of the young elf.
The accuser lifted his round chin proudly. "Only what I saw with my own eyes."
"There!" the dwarf exploded. "He hasn't a shred of evidence to back up his outrageous charges." The elf began to struggle against the hands that still held him, his feet scuffling gouges in the sand. "I am not lying I Ask the dwarf how he managed to buy the glass ball for his wife. You all know he is poor. Ask him that" Tanis had listened to all of this as he searched the crowd for Brandella. At the mention of the bag that Mertwig had supposedly carried, the half-elf gave pause. He had seen the dwarf hiding behind such a bag during the battle with the spider. Yet Mertwig had saved his life in that same battle. All he had asked for in return was Tanis's silence, and so the promise had been given. The half-elf hoped he would not be called upon to break that vow. But mostly he hoped that Mertwig was i
Canpho ran one hand over his hairless head as he surveyed the dwarf. "You had better tell us from whom you bought the glass ball," he said. Tanis heard Yeblidod gasp.
"This is not to be believed," stammered Mertwig. "Are you giving credence to this slander?"
Canpho did not answer. Instead, he said, "It would just be best to tell us the name of your seller. That way, we can put these charges to rest."
Mertwig blustered, and Tanis saw Yeblidod's eyes, so recently filled with happy tears', begin to glisten again. "Well, I don't see what good it will do," the dwarf said. "And it's terribly unfair. I want to keep the price I paid private. This ball was a present, and my wife need not know how much I paid for it." He cast the crowd a beseeching glance, but the tide seemed to have turned against him. Only a few elves nodded encouragingly at the beleaguered dwarf.
Yeblidod moved to her husband and tenderly threaded her arm underneath his elbow. Mertwig gave her a quick, embarrassed glance and then looked away.
"So, you'll tell us who sold it to you?" asked Canpho, acting relieved.
"It was the artist, Piklaker," said Mertwig.
"Is Piklaker here?" Canpho called out.
When there was no answer, the healer asked, "Has anyone seen him?"
Loud buzzing filled the air as everyone talked among themselves, asking who might have seen the well-known elven artist last. Finally, someone standing near Kishpa shouted, "My brother said he left the village right after the human retreat."
"Another convenient answer," snarled the angry elf who had leveled the thievery charge against Mertwig.
"I didn't know he had left," countered the dwarf.
"Then tell us how you paid him. What did you barter?" insisted the youth. Mertwig hesitated. He caught Kishpa's eye and, in that moment, gave him a look that begged him to say something.
The mage remained silent, his eyes blank.
"I… I gave him… gave him a promise," stammered Mertwig. "I told him that… that I would pay him with my work."
"You're lying!" declared the young elf. "You couldn't pay Piklaker's prices with a year of your work. Maybe not even two!"
'Tell this uncouth vermin to mind his tongue when he speaks to his elders," Mertwig told Canpho, mustering all of his dignity.
"I do mind my tongue," shot back the youth, "when I speak to honest elders!"
Mertwig tried to grab the youth, but restraining hands held the dwarf tight. The elf stood aside, hands on his hips and a knowing look on his face.
Meanwhile, Canpho turned his gaze to Kishpa, expecting that the mage would settle the issue by coming to the dwarf's defense. Kishpa, however, sat nearly still, his only motion the black hair ruffling with the breeze. He did not meet the healer's eye. That spoke volumes to Canpho.
'This is not the proper forum to debate these charges," the healer intoned. "Tomorrow, the village elders will convene to hear the evidence and make their pronouncement. Let us speak no more of this today."
Mertwig was stu
Canpho said nothing.
Kishpa said nothing.
Tanis, however, could not stay silent.