"Where are you going?"

At the sound of the voice, Q'arlynd froze. The words had come from a distance, carried on the wind. They held a note of alarm, even panic. Warily, he looked around but saw nothing. The moon was a mere sliver, but it provided ample light for his drow eyes. The moor stretched flat in all directions. The low jumbles of stone that dotted it-the ruins of ancient Talthalaran-offered little concealment, except to someone lying prone. The shifting mists were another matter. Even with summer approaching, they rose from the ground every night.

"Where are you going?"

There it was again, but from a slightly different direction. It sounded like the same voice: high and squeaky, not recognizably female or male, with a strange gulp between each word. Like the words were hiccupped out.

Q'arlynd reached into his belt pouch and drew out a pinch of gum arabic. As he rolled it between his fingers, he spoke the words of a spell. His body shimmered and vanished. He teleported away from the spot where he'd stood, materializing a good hundred paces from the foundation of the ruined tower he'd just searched.

"Stand and fight, you coward!" the voice gulped.

"I will," Q'arlynd breathed, unfastening the ties on his wand sheath. "If you just show yourself."

The wind shifted, wafting a foul odor from the direction of the voice.

"Stand and…"

The voice came closer.

"Coward!"

Closer still.

"Stand and fight, you. Fight you."

Almost there…

"Coward!"

There! It wasn't a drow, but a surface creature-one Q'arlynd had never seen before.