“Merchandise?” Tas’s look of complete puzzlement only sent the smoldering dwarf further into apoplexy. “You think that I stole something?” Tas stood, one hand behind his back, the other pointing at himself as if to say, “Me? All this excitement is about me?”
“Ooohh!” screamed the dwarf through his quivering beard. His rage was so intense that he let go of Tasslehoff because he could barely control his shaking fists. Finally he stamped his foot and spun around in a circle until he calmed down enough to speak again.
“How can you deny it? Guards! I saw it right there, on your wrist!”
“I don’t believe there’s anything on my wrist,” said Tas, looking at his left one.
“Not that one!” shrieked the dwarf. “Your other wrist, you doorknob! The one you’re hiding behind your back!” He seized Tas’s hand and tried to wrench the bracelet from it. “It’s right there, on your wrist!” he repeated. Still tugging, he looked about frantically. “Where are those guards!”
By now an enormous crowd had gathered around the stall again, milling and bobbing to get a look at the ruckus. The dwarf’s temper was well known in town, and no one wanted to miss the consequences (though no one wanted to get too close, either). A tall, wiry young man, looking slightly agitated, forced his way through the throng.
“Well, here’s the guard,” sighed Tasslehoff. “I hope he can clear things up, because I couldn’t be more confused.”
“Thank the gods you’re here, Tanis,” breathed the dwarf to the newcomer, ignoring the kender’s commentary. “Please, go fetch a guard, quickly.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on first,” said the one called Tanis.
Tasslehoff thrust his small chest out defiantly. “I’d like to know that, myself.”
Flint gave a snort at the kender. “Isn’t it obvious? This black-hearted imp stole my bracelet and was sneaking away with it.” The dwarf wrenched Tas’s right arm out into view, then pushed back the cuff to reveal the copper bracelet around the kender’s wrist. “There. Right there where he hid it.”
“You mean this?” Tasslehoff was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t steal that. I was protecting it for you. I was just now going to find you to return it. You left it lying on the table where anyone who came along could have snatched it.” Tasslehoff wagged his finger reprovingly at the dwarf. “You really should be more careful with your things.”
“It was locked in a display box!” exclaimed the dwarf, rudely poking Tasslehoff in the chest.
“It was awfully imprudent,” admonished Tas, completely unruffled. “And you might as well leave those display boxes unlocked for all the good they do.”
The kender’s calmness only served to further enrage the dwarf. “I’ll not fall for that innocent kender act of yours.” He looked about desperately for some support from the crowd. “I want this thief carted away.”
Tanis leaned toward the dwarf and whispered behind his hand, “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Flint. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.”
Turning to the kender, Tanis continued. “If you give the bracelet back—and anything else you picked up—we can just forget this whole thing.”
Tasslehoff was impressed by the man’s sense of fairness—something he’d seen too little of since arriving in Solace. “I’d be happy to,” said Tas. “That’s what I was trying to do all along.” With one quick motion the bracelet was off his wrist and being returned to its owner. With a grumble, the dwarf snatched it and immediately stuffed it in his vest pocket.
“You’re welcome,” said the kender pointedly. The dwarf did not meet his gaze.
Facing the crowd, the young man waved his hands and dismissed their curiosity. “That’s all folks, there’s nothing happening here anymore. Go on back to your business.” Turning to the kender, he offered his hand. “My name is Tanthalas, but everyone calls me Tanis. This fellow, who’d have you believe you’ve deeply offended him, is my good friend and hearthmate, Flint Fireforge. His bark is much worse than his bite.”
Tasslehoff reached up and clasped the man’s hand warmly. “I can’t begin to say how happy I am to meet you, Tanis. You’re the first person I’ve met here who’s spoken kindly to me. I’m Tasslehoff Burrfoot, of the Kendermore Burrfoots. Maybe you’ve heard of us?
“Happy to make your acquaintance, too, Flint Fireforge. I’m sorry you misunderstood my intentions about the bracelet. It’s a beautiful piece of work.” Tas extended his hand to the dwarf, who folded his arms and stared at the sky until a jab from Tanis’s elbow nearly knocked him over. After firing a simmering glance at Tanis, Flint finally—grudgingly—accepted Tasslehoff’s handshake and “apology.”
Tanis watched Flint’s scowling face, amused. “Well, Tasslehoff,” he said, “I’m glad that’s settled. I wish you a pleasant journey, wherever it is you’re going.”
“Actually,” the kender said thoughtfully, “now that I have some friends here in Solace, I believe I might stay for a while.”
“Actually,” said Flint hastily, “we don’t live—”
The heel of Tanis’s boot crunched Flint’s toes, cutting off the dwarf’s words. “What Flint meant to say was, even though we live here,” explained Tanis, “we’ll be leaving in a day or two, as soon as the highways dry up again. The Spring Festival only lasts two more days, and then we’ll be taking our goods on the road, south to Qualinost, probably.”
Tas’s face lit up. “Really? I’ve never seen the ancient elf capital, but I hear it’s breathtaking. My uncle Trapspringer met the Speaker of the Sun once. I was thinking of going there myself.” His expectant gaze traveled from Tanis to Flint and quickly back to Tanis again.
Tanis shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Well, a trip to Qualinost isn’t definite. Not yet, that is. We might, umm, head north into Abanasinia first. We still haven’t decided. It all depends.”
“What does it depend on?” the kender asked innocently.
Flint folded his arms and smirked at Tanis, then said smugly, “I’m interested, too, Tanis. Exactly what does this depend on?”
Tanis shuffled his feet and cleared his throat awkwardly, then tried to swallow the dry lump forming there. “The usual things. The condition of the roads, and what we hear from other merchants about those areas, and whether we can get good directions, and—” he blushed—“things like that.”
Tasslehoff beamed. “You don’t have to worry about directions. I have wonderfully accurate maps of the whole area. They show where the roads come from and where they’re going—mostly, anyway. Plus where there are bad bridges and high taxes and monsters and good food. They show lots of things.” The kender set his shoulders resolutely. “You’re going to be awfully glad you met me.”
Chapter 2
Among Friends
The Inn of the Last Home was perched high in the branches of one of the mightiest vallenwood trees in Solace. This was only fitting, as the inn was one of the largest buildings in town. Even on the ground it would have looked inviting. Nestled there in the branches of that powerful tree, the two-story inn seemed enchanted.
The one drawback to its location was reaching it. A long and winding ramp spiraled round and round the great trunk until it finally deposited the unprepared visitor, puffing and very ready for a drink, at the door of the inn, forty feet above the ground. (Needless to say, this ramp had a stout railing for the sake of those customers who might have trouble negotiating the path back down.)
This evening found Tanis and Flint snaking their way up the torturous incline.
Pausing for a moment to lean against the trunk, Flint ruffled his moustache. “I swear that rascal Otik moves this inn just a little bit higher every year. Besides, what idiot makes his business taxing to get to and easy to leave?”
“It’s only hard when you start from the ground. I never hear you complain when we come in on the bridgewalks,” replied Tanis. “I think the real problem is that you’re getting old.”
“And I think you’re getting st
upid,” grumbled the dwarf as he resumed the pace. “Only a hare-brain would meet a kender for a drink, and only a doomed idiot would invite one along on a trip.”
Tanis, who was accustomed to the dwarf’s bile after years of exposure, took no offense. “Nobody says you have to come along, Flint. I know your wares well enough to sell them for you. Somebody your age probably shouldn’t travel much, anyway.”
Flint poked a short, stubby finger at his nettlesome young friend. “Just you remember that even at my age I could still snap you in half like a greasy chicken bone. It’s only my short reach that’s kept you alive this long.”
Tanis chuckled and wrapped his arm around the dwarf’s thick shoulders. “Anyway,” he said, “nobody says he has to come along, either. He’ll probably forget we even suggested it. If he really does have maps of the whole region we can look at and perhaps copy, he could save us enormous amounts of time and wasted effort. You know what a maze the Kharolis Mountains can be.”
“Yes, I know,” the dwarf grumbled. “And I also know I could be sitting before my own hearth with my feet up, eating my own smoked ham and drinking good dwarf spirits.”
The half-elf sighed. “It’ll do you good to get out. I swear,” he said with a shake of his russet head, “you’d be a regular hermit, Flint Fireforge, if I let you.”
“So why don’t you?”
Tanis clapped Flint’s shoulder fondly. “It’s a shame I’m the only one who knows what a pushover you are.” He gave the dwarf’s shoulder a firm, warning squeeze. “Now, please at least try to be nice to Tasslehoff. He seems like a pleasant enough little fellow.”
A skeptical snort was Flint’s only answer, his heavy boots clopping noisily on the wooden bridgewalks.
They arrived at the landing before the entrance to the inn. Bright lights from inside shone warmly through the colorful stained glass windows. Sounds of laughter and song drifted out to welcome the new arrivals. Tanis closed his eyes, pulled open the door, and drew a deep breath as he stepped into the room.
The inn had an aroma that Tanis found irresistible: pipe and hearth smoke mingled in the air, along with the scents of Otik’s spiced potatoes, sizzling sausages, roasting fowl, and fresh bread from the kitchen, and the inescapable smell of spring from the mighty vallenwood trunk that grew right through the midst of the common room.
As Tanis opened his eyes again, the pleasant air caught in his throat. The crowd at the inn was often boisterous. This night, several dozen patrons stood or sat throughout the room, clapping and banging their mugs on the tables in time to an embarrassingly bawdy song. And in the center of it all, leading the singing as he leaped from table to table and even walked on the shoulders of his audience, was the person they had come to meet, the irrepressible kender himself, Tasslehoff Burrfoot.
Flint’s elbow jabbed into Tanis’s ribs, releasing the air that had caught in the taller man’s throat. Tanis glanced at Flint, but could only shrug in response to the dwarf’s glare. With studied patience, Tanis began to thread his way through the noisy, stomping crowd.
The song ended moments before the two new arrivals reached an empty table along the room’s farthest wall. Seemingly from nowhere, a body launched itself toward Tanis, who reflexively put out his arms to catch it.
Tas smiled up at his new friend. “Hey, Tanis, I’m glad you made it!” He crawled from the half-elf’s lap, twisted his vest back into place, and settled himself into a chair. “What a crowd!” He took a sip from a half-empty mug of ale left over from the previous patrons. Foam coated his upper lip in a golden mustache. “This is a great town. I can see why you guys live here.” He settled back with a satisfied belch.
“Did you hear the song?” he asked, leaning forward again. “It almost became the kender national anthem, but it’s a hard one to sing correctly, what with those four octaves in it and all. Still, bad renditions are real popular at inns in Kendermore. At least they were when I was last home.”
“When was that?” Tanis asked conversationally. He yanked the reluctant, grim-faced dwarf onto the bench next to him.
With a long-suffering sigh, Flint wiggled three fingers above his head at a serving girl and settled in for the night. The fair-haired lass bounced over quickly, three large, overfull mugs slopping over in her cradled arms.
“Thanks!” Tasslehoff threw back the contents of the half-filled mug he’d found, then traded it for one of the full ones in the girl’s arms.
“Now, what was your question? Oh, yes, Kendermore,” Tasslehoff recalled. He scratched his head. “What year is it now?”
“Year?” Tanis asked, incredulous. “Have you been gone so very long?”
“I haven’t really given it much thought,” said the kender, screwing up his wrinkled face in concentration. “Let’s see, I left just after my sixteenth day of life-gift, which was the second of the month of Blessings, 341. I remember having two birthdays since then—one spent with some very nasty wizards who wanted this really neat teleporting ring I had, and the other talking to some very nice ladies in a pleasant bordello in Khuri-khan, or was it Valkinord? I always get them confused. Have you been?”
Oblivious to Flint’s blush and Tanis’s laughter, Tas pressed on. “I guess that means I’ve been on wanderlust for two and a half years, so far. Hmm,” he muttered, “I didn’t realize it had been that long.…”
“Good lords,” breathed Flint apprehensively, “what on Krynn is ‘wanderlust’?”
Tasslehoff looked surprised at the question. “Why, it’s when you wander around, learning about life and making maps. When you’ve learned enough, or made enough maps, you’re ready to return to your hometown and begin life as an adult. Doesn’t everyone do it?”
“Good heavens, no,” snorted the dwarf, compelled to call on the gods yet again. “What a ridiculous notion.”
Tanis remarked with a shrug, “I guess it’s no different than any culture’s rite of passage. The elves have one, I know.” He flinched at the memory of his humiliation at being forbidden to take the elven rite in Qualinost years ago because he was a half-breed. “And I’ll bet the dwarves have one, too.
“So,” Tanis continued, filling in the dwarf’s gloomy silence, “have you learned enough to return home yet?”
“Not yet, but I’ll tell you,” the kender said as he leaned in, his little face serious, “I made some really great maps of that bordello.”
Blushing anew, the straitlaced dwarf swallowed the last of his amber ale in another big gulp. “Speaking of maps, let’s have another drink and take a look at yours.”
“You want to see the bordello one?” asked Tas eagerly.
“No!” exploded Flint, flustered further by Tanis’s laughter. Flint heaved a sigh of relief just then, when the serving girl returned with another round. “You said you had some maps of Abanasinia, which is the only reason I’m here. So let’s see ’em,” he ordered.
Of course, there were few things in the world Tasslehoff liked better than talking about and showing off his maps. In a trice he had ordered a plate of fried sausages and settled into his chair near the wall. Across from him, Tanis stretched out his legs along the bench, Flint still sitting stiffly next to him.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to see well way over there,” Tas said frankly to the bushy-haired dwarf, “what with the light so dim and your eyes so old.”
“My eyes are fine! You just worry about your maps being a waste of my time,” said Flint, poking a finger at the kender.
With a hurt glance at the dwarf, Tas untied the flap on his shoulder bag. “Making maps is my life, you know,” he announced to no one in particular. “I suppose you could say I can’t help myself. I see something interesting, and I’ve just got to jot it down. I don’t sell them, though I’m sure such beautiful and exact maps would draw a terrific sum. I just make them for me. And sometimes I give one to somebody I like, if it’s really special.”
Reaching into the bag with both hands, Tasslehoff dragged out what could only be called a wad
of items: parchment rolls, folded parchment, squares of paper and vellum, a few small sheets of bark, the soft leather upper from a luxurious riding boot, several scraps of linen, a bone tube sealed with wax at both ends, and a straight black stick about fourteen inches long.
Tas picked up the stick and turned it around in his hands. “What in the world is this?” he mused aloud. He rapped it on the table edge and nearly dropped it in surprise when a shower of sparks burst from the end. Sudden recognition lit up his face.
“Hey, Fozgoz’s wand!” he squealed. “Watch, Tanis, I can do magic with this!”
Leaping to his feet, Tas shook the wand at Flint and intoned, “I command you to become a hairless goat, now!”
Arms and legs flailing wildly, the hefty dwarf scrambled desperately to escape from the sizzling, smoking fusillade that erupted over him. His beer mug crashed to the floor to create a spreading pool of foam. The bench nearly tipped over before Flint could plant his hobnailed boot firmly on the floorboards.
Meanwhile Tanis’s arm shot up and his strong fingers locked around Tas’s wrist. With his free left hand Tanis snatched the wand from the kender and dunked it, still spewing sparks, into one of the full mugs on the table.
“What’s the matter with your brain?” Finally on his feet, with his back to the wall, Flint bellowed at the kender. “You all saw it,” he said to the gaping crowd, “he’s completely crazy!” He pointed an accusing finger at the half-elf. “This is your fault, Tanis. You shouldn’t have stopped me from having him arrested this morning. Maybe it’s not too late.”
Tasslehoff slipped his wrist out of Tanis’s grasp. “Gee whiz,” he muttered sheepishly, “it was just a joke. It’s a silly old fake wizard’s wand. There’s no magic in it, just sparks.”
“How is any sane person supposed to know that?” blustered Flint. Aggravated, he brushed himself off and resettled on his bench, mumbling the whole time about “crazy kender.” Gradually the rest of the inn’s customers went back about their business. The serving girl slipped in and placed a pewter plate of sizzling sausages on the table next to Tasslehoff’s sundry valuables. Flint snatched one of the hot links and munched it angrily, oblivious to the burns it inflicted in his mouth.
Wanderlust Page 3