“What nonsense is this?” the elf protested as soon as he could gather enough of his wits to fuel speech. “I am innocent of this thing!”

“Silence!” Gellana demanded. She held a jeweled dagger up for the ghostly gnome’s inspection. “Was this the weapon used?”

The spectral head rose and fell once, slowly, in a nod of confirmation. Despite the gravity of the occasion, Danilo could not help but observe that the gnome’s spirit had a remarkable flair for drama.

“And whose dagger is this?” persisted Gellana.

“It belongs to the elf,” proclaimed the spirit. It is Elaith Craulnober’s dagger.”

Gellana Mirrorshade’s eyes were hard as they swept the gathering. “Have you heard enough? May I release my husband, and in his name order the death of this treacherous elf?”

A murmur arose, gathering power and fury. The accused elf stood alone in an angry circle of gnomes, buffeted by a storm of accusation and demands for immediate retribution. Elaith’s eyes went flat and cool, and his chin lifted with elven hauteur as he faced his death.

That gesture, that purely elven mixture of pride and courage and disdain, was to be his salvation. Danilo had always been a fool for all things elven, and this moment proved no exception. He sighed and quickly cast a cantrip that would add power and persuasion to his voice.

“Wait,” he demanded.

The single word thrummed through the great hall like a clarion blast, and the gnomes fell suddenly silent. Garith Hunterstock froze, his sword poised to cut the elf down. Danilo reached out and gently eased the gnome’s blade away from Elaith Craulnober’s throat. “The elf claims innocence,” the Harper said. “We should at least hear him out, and consider the possibility that he speaks truth.”

“Bentley Mirrorshade himself accused the elf’!” shouted a high-pitched gnomish voice from the crowd.