Tanis the shadow years (d2-3)

by Barbara Siegel

  Finally, Canpho spoke cautiously. "Think a moment, young one. Be sure of what you are saying. Mertwig will forgive you, I'm sure, if you retract your terrible accusation."

  "I will not retract," the elf said resolutely.

  'Then I will not forgive!" Mertwig erupted. "How dare you slander me in this way? And here, in front of my wife, my friends-"

  "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 innocent. Then Tanis spotted Brandella. She was sitting next to Kishpa, both with grim expressions. The half-elf slipped off the rock and sidled close enough to overhear their conversation. "You must speak up for Mertwig," Brandella told the mage in a low voice, squeezing his hand. "And say what?" he asked in quiet, yet desperate frustration. "That you believe in him. Tell them that you stand by him. It will carry much weight." Her eyes glowed dark against the deep green of her woven shirt. Kispha looked unconvinced. "But what if he's guilty?" "Then," Brandella argued, "you will have been wrong in one thing but right in the other." 'The other?" The mage raised his brows. "Loyalty to your friend," the weaver said simply. He paused, obviously torn. "My loyalty is to the truth," he finally said fiercely. Brandella cocked her head and stroked the velvety sleeve of his red robe. "Would you not defend me if I lied or stole7" 'That's different," Kispha replied, looking away. "No." "It is," he insisted. "Not to me." "Please," he said, shaking his head. "No more of this. Let me listen." She let go of his hand. Tanis moved through the tense and ever-angrier crowd. "I bartered for that glass ball in good faith," Mertwig said indignantly. "With what?" demanded the elf. "Uh… it's of no matter to you." The crowd rumbled at the dwarf's evasive answer. "From whom did you purchase the ball?" asked Canpho cautiously. "I'd rather not say," said Mertwig. "He'd rather not say," the young elf taunted, "because if he did, you would know that my uncle's treasures had paid for that glass ball." "Where was Mertwig when the humans began their attack?" questioned a thoughtful elf who had patiently attended to all of the charges. "He had gone off with Little Shoulders Scowarr to find a spider for Kishpa," replied another elf, pointed ears peeking from ash-blond hair. "Yes, but he never came back," noted yet another elf. Mertwig grew uneasy with the direction of the comments. "I didn't want to return without a spider," offered the dwarf. "And I didn't know that Scowarr had found one so quickly." "Very convenient," the accusing elf said snidely. "It's true," insisted Mertwig. Scowarr pushed forward to defend the hapless dwarf. "What he says is so," Little Shoulders offered. "We separated early on so that we'd have a better chance of finding what Kishpa needed." "Where did you leave him?" persisted Canpho. "I don't know the village that well," conceded the human. "I believe it was in front of a large white hut with lots of light-blue flowers in front." "That's my uncle's house!" declared the young elf. The rumble among the villagers grew more ominous. The accuser's friends had released their hold on him.

  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 stunned. "No!" he shouted, struggling against the hands of those he'd once called friends. "I will not be put on trial for giving my wife a gift! I would rather leave Ankatavaka than be subjected to such humiliation."

  Canpho said nothing.

  Kishpa said nothing.

  Tanis, however, could not stay silent.

  22

  Rendezvous

  Mentwiq stared in anguish as half-elf pushed his way to the clearing at the center of the crowd. "I know not the merit of these charges brought against the dwarf," Tanis said loudly, "but I have somethi
ng to say that no one else has knowledge of." Mertwig flushed. He wanted to cry out, 'Traitor!" but he knew if he did so it would go badly with him. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and lowered his head as if to ward off a cold, hard wind. "You know little of me," Tanis conceded to the villagers of Ankatavaka. "And, to be honest, I know little of you. I do know sacrifice and bravery, though, and I saw it- and live to describe it-thanks to the dwarf who is now under suspicion."

  Several elves murmured and shifted their weight. "The dwarf has lived here a long time," said an elf who had remained silent up until now. "Let's not be hasty." Several other villagers nodded their support.

  Tanis waited for them to be silent. The late-afternoon sun bathed his hair in a reddish glow. His tooled leather also picked up an auburn warmth. Mertwig realized that Tanis would be far more comfortable tracking deer through the forest than addressing several hundred elves. Unlike Scowarr, Mertwig thought, the half-elf speaks out of duty, not love of attention.

  Tanis plunged on. "Let it be known that Mertwig, the dwarf, came to my aid when I fought the giant spider. He saved my life at great risk to his own. For reasons he did not explain to me-modesty, perhaps?-he asked that I not give him his due."

  Yeblidod glared around the group, daring them to criticize her beloved Mertwig.

  "I break my word by saying this, for how can I remain silent?" Tanis continued. "I speak up for him now because such heroism seems hardly to match the picture of a thief that has been painted. I ask you all, would a thief risk his ill-gotten treasure-let alone his own life-to save a stranger from certain death?"

  While the elves chattered among themselves, impressed by Tanis's argument, Mertwig heard Brandella say to Kishpa, "He speaks eloquently for your friend. Should you not do the same while you still have the chance7"

  Mertwig moved his head slightly to catch the mage's response. Kishpa was crimson. "I warned Mertwig," the mage said sullenly. "He made his own choice."

  "Then you think he's lying? You think he's guilty?"

  "I… I don't know. I just-" The dwarf and Kishpa saw a change in Brandella's expression. The mage stopped speaking; Mertwig also felt his interest quicken. Something had agitated Brandella. He scanned the crowd and saw Tanis weaving his way in the pair's direction.

  "What's wrong?" Kishpa asked his lover.

  "Nothing." Brandella averted her face from Kishpa, unwittingly giving Mertwig a clear view of the heartache in her soft eyes.

  "I know better," the mage insisted. "Please, what troubles you?"

  She shivered. "I'll be fine. Just be still." Brandella made a gallant effort to control her emotions, calmly singing out, "Look, here comes Tanis," as the half-elf approached her on her other side. Tanis nodded pleasantly at Kishpa and then said something in Brandella's ear. Trembling ever so slightly, she nodded her approval, said a few words that the mage and the dwarf could not hear, and the half-elf quickly moved on.

  Mertwig could see that all thoughts of his own dilemma had flown from Kishpa's mind. Something was happening between the half-elf and Brandella. And judging from Kishpa's set expression, the mage had vowed to find out exactly what it was.

  "I've come to remind you of your promise," Tanis had whispered to Brandella. 'The battle is over. It is time for you to leave this place before you-and everything else here-vanishes. Meet me behind Reehsha's shack."

  The weaver clung for a moment to the thought of staying behind, of disappearing when the old wizard could dream of her no more. There was something appealing in the notion of dying together in that way. But who would remember Kishpa if she were to die7 Who would keep his memory alive? She agreed to meet Tanis. Before the half-elf began pacing the garden, he had looked inside Reehsha's house, pleased and relieved to see that the fisherman was away. From where he stood, Tanis could not view the celebration on the beach, but he could see the shimmering waves of the Straits of Algoni. The sun soon would set in its depths, and the golden fire on the water's surface would disappear. He hoped he would vanish with Brandella just as quickly and easily. The half-elf suddenly felt his heart beating fast. Now that he was so close to fulfilling his promise to the old mage, he realized with a start, he had no idea how he was going to get back to his own time! Clotnik had told him that Kishpa would do it. But how? And when? Tanis was deep in thought when he heard a voice softly say, "I am here." She stood at the far side of the garden near the house. The setting sun's slanting rays caught her hair, giving her dark curls a becoming reddish glow- and setting Tanis's heart to an even greater pounding. He hurried to her.

  *****

  Brandella had told Kishpa that she was tired and going home. If there was one thing he knew about the woman, it was that lies did not come naturally to her lips. Distrust, however, came rather easily to him. The mage had begun trailing her at a safe distance. But Scowarr saw Kishpa leaving the celebration and rushed to join him. Tve got one for you," the funny man chimed. "Have you heard about the mage who always says no?" "No." "Caught you!" the human declared. Kishpa saw Brandella making a sharp turn away from the path that led to her home, and he frowned. "Don't like that one, huh?" asked Scowarr. Kishpa didn't answer. He quickened his pace, making a sharp right turn and following after Brandella. "Here's another one, " Little Shoulders persisted, keeping pace with the mage.

  "Not now," Kishpa snapped, waving Scowarr away.

  "What did I do?" Scowarr asked, his countenance a study in injured innocence. The little human could have had kender blood, the mage thought.

  "I'm sorry," Kishpa sighed. "I have something personal to attend to. Go back to the beach, and enjoy yourself."

  Scowarr scooted around the mage and halted in front of him. His smile was ingratiating. "How can I have a good time if my favorite wizard is angry with me?"

  Kishpa stopped reluctantly. "I'm not angry with you," he said with considerable irritation as he watched Brandella turn yet again. It appeared as if she was taking a very roundabout route to Reehsha's shack. Why would she do that? he wondered. He sidestepped Scowarr and lengthened his stride, the funny man dogging him. The mage hadn't gone far, however, before a shrill cry brought him to yet another abrupt stop.

  "It's Yeblidod," said Scowarr, looking back over his shoulder.

  The dwarf's woman came to them on unsteady legs and with eyes swollen from crying.

  "Kishpa, come back," she begged. "Come back to the beach and help my Mertwig."

  "New trouble?" the mage asked.

  "He needs you," Yeblidod said. She pulled at his robes, grabbed at his arms, wailing in her fear and pain. Although Kishpa was desperate to follow after Brandella, he did not have such a hard heart that he could refuse his old friend's wife. Casting a troubled glance in the direction in which Brandella had gone, he sighed deeply and retraced his steps with Yeblidod.

  "I can't just leave without saying good-bye," Brandella said mournfully, staring out into the glimmering sea. She and Tanis had been sitting so quietly that a small flock of gulls had come to rest on the sand at their feet, obviously hoping the two had brought food to share.

  Tanis knew there might be little time left, but he also knew how hard it was to part from those you love without saying farewell. He thought about Kitiara's abrupt departure. The gulls' hard, black eyes reminded him of the angry gleam in Kit's eyes as she'd stormed away.

  Brandella saw the sadness in his face and seemed to know him for a kindred spirit. "Is it the leaving that hurts the worst, or is it the lack of a good-bye?" she asked plaintively.

  "Both." He laughed harshly, thinking of the good-bye slap he'd received from Kit. "But it's better, in the end," he added thoughtfully, "to tell someone how you feel and to be told the same. Without those words to hold onto-for good or ill-you're just adrift."

  Brandella pulled her shawl tighter against the twilight chill. "Are you adrift?" she asked.

  His silence appeared to be answer enough. Brandella' made a sudden move to take his hand, then seemed to rethink the movement and merely sat quietly.

&n
bsp; The weaver was like no woman he had ever known, Tanis thought, but she could not be his. It was driving him mad.

  She broke the awkward silence, asking, "What should I do?"

  Swallowing hard, he suggested, "Leave Kishpa a note. That way he'll always have your words. Hell have something to hold on to."

  She thought about it for a moment and then slowly, sadly, said, "Yes, that may be best. Otherwise, I might not be able to part with him at all."

  At that moment, Tanis remembered the enchanted writing instrument that Kishpa had given him. A band of sligs had been after it, the mage had said. He was right: they wouldn't find it here. He fished it out of the inside pocket of his tunic and handed it to her. "This was once Kishpa's," he said with feeling. "He gave it to me so that I might leave it in this time and place. From his hand to my hand to yours, I give it to you to write him his farewell."

  She took it lovingly. It was wooden and plain, but that didn't seem to matter to Brandella. Her Kishpa once had possessed it.

  "Thank you," she said, fighting her emotions.

  Embarrassed, the half-elf said, "I ask but one thing. When you finish your note, leave the writing instrument behind. Don't take it with you."

  "I will do as you ask," she said, throwing her arms around the half-elf in gratitude, the movement scaring off the half-dozen seagulls at their feet.

  The smell of her hair, and the touch of her hands on his back, made Tanis light-headed.

  A moment later she pulled away awkwardly. "Are you all right?" he asked in a whisper.

  She nodded her head but did not meet his eyes. "I will go and write the note now."

  He agreed too heartily, he thought. "Yes. Good. When it is done, meet me by the east gate of the village."

  She had barely left his side when he called to her, "Please hurry!" He wasn't sure if he said it because he feared time was running out or because he simply needed to see her again as soon as possible.