With his eyebrows twisted to an unnatural posture, Fozgoz glared at Tasslehoff.
"You are certainly a brave and adventurous fellow, little traveler," he announced. "That creature would have torn off your arm and swallowed it whole, then lapped up your blood for dessert, had I not been here to contain its bestial urges."
"It looked like a billy goat," said Tas, suspicious.
"You noticed that, did you?" Fozgoz's smile was patronizing. "That is because the universe contains only a finite number of forms. To grant existence to all creatures, some forms must be used twice, or even more, on the many planes of existence. Do not be fooled. It merely resembled a goat in outward shape." The astonished crowd murmured over its new enlightenment.
Turning to the man next to him, Tasslehoff muttered, "It sure looked like a goat. Didn't you think it looked like a goat?"
Before the man could answer, Fozgoz interrupted. "Tell me, little traveler. You are a kender?"
"Tasslehoff Burrfoot, of the Kendermore Burrfoots. Have you heard of us?"
"Thankfully, no," Fozgoz said, drawing laughter from the crowd, "but I'm certain everyone here knows of the strange and wonderful things kender carry in their pouches. Perhaps you would allow me?" The magician extended a hand to Tasslehoff, his eyebrow raised Questioningly.
Tasslehoff's face lit up. "Sure, I'd love to!" He stepped forward and slipped the pouch from his shoulder. As he began unknotting the drawstring, Fozgoz stopped him.
"Please," he said, "I am a wizard, after all. There is no need to open the purse. I can divine, yes, even extract, its contents while it is still tightly drawn. Stand here."
Tasslehoff stepped obediently to the place next to Fozgoz. The magician placed his left hand lightly against the pouch. In his right he waved the wand.
"Now relax, my valiant friend," he cautioned. His eyes grew narrow, his lips pursed tightly together, and he passed the wand close to the pouch. "Radorum, Radorae, Radorix, Radorostrum!" A shower of sparks burst from the end of the wand and rained over Tasslehoff. Fozgoz stepped back triumphantly, holding his left hand aloft. The crowd gasped. Slowly he lowered his palm to Tasslehoff's eye level, and the kender saw that it held the dried foot and beak of a raven.
Tasslehoff peered at the objects. "Wow, I'd forgotten all about those. But hey, you missed the best stuff. Here, let me show you." Before Fozgoz could object, Tas popped open his pouch and pulled out a beautiful orange and green feather. "Here's a harpy's tail feather. And a minotaur's tusk, and a lock of somebody-or-other's hair, though he was important at the time, and some moon dust from Lunitari—or is it Solinari? Well, anyway, Uncle Trapspringer brought it back from some moon or other. Where's that powdered pegasus hoof? Oh, and I have maps of everywhere I've ever gone, which is just about everywhere, and lots of places I haven't gone, too."
By now the crowd was pressing in, trying to get a look at the strange and wonderful things Tasslehoff held in his small fists. Fozgoz waved his arms against the pressing crowd, but it was no use.
Just as Fozgoz was about to give up on the rest of the show, he heard the kender's voice calling his name. "Mighty Fozgoz! Look!"
The spectators parted far enough so Fozgoz could see Tasslehoff. In his outstretched palm he held a raven's beak and two dried feet. "Look, I found them. They were back in my pouch. How'd you do that, without waving your wand, I mean?"
Caught off guard, Fozgoz looked down to his own hand to see whether his props were still there. They were. Unfortunately, at least sixteen members of his audience saw them, too.
"Say, what sort of a double-dealing trick is that?" asked one of the larger members of the audience, stepping toward Fozgoz.
"What do you take us for, a pack of fools?" asked another. "I'd say we ought to know phony magic when we see it.
Fozgoz bristled. "Phony magic! I'd hold my tongue if I were you. I shall overlook your brazen words this time, but do not test me! I warn you all, even a wizard of my wisdom can be pushed only so far."
"If you're such a great mage, what are you doing playing a festival?"
By now, Fozgoz was encircled on three sides and his threats and warnings were not having any marked effect. Onlookers loudly and satirically called for some demonstration of real power. "C'mon, Fozgoz, plant a lightning bolt right here," snorted one man, thumping his chest, much to the crowd's amusement.
"All right, I warned you," blustered Fozgoz. "Now step back or I just might do something you will regret for a long time! I just might . . . Oh, dear. Now where's my wand?"
Several yards from the beleaguered magician but hidden by the thronging humans, Tasslehoff retied and shouldered his pouch. His naturally lined face was further creased with disappointment over the meager magic show. As he threaded his way out through the onlookers, a brief flurry of sparks sputtered unnoticed from his pouch.
"You're insulting me. Is that why you came here, just to insult me?"
Tasslehoff was readying to apologize to whomever he had insulted—not that he could remember insulting anyone lately—when another voice stopped him. "Insult? I'm insulting you? You're the insulting one, with prices like this."
Tasslehoff quickly spotted the source of the argument. A human, obviously a wanderer, judging from his worn, practical clothing, was in a heated debate with a dwarf over a piece of merchandise. Past middle age, the dwarf had graying hair above bushy eyebrows, a red bulb of a nose, and a practiced snarl beneath his mustache.
"Merchandise? You call this merchandise? You should be thanking me for even stopping to look at it."
The two were obviously not agreeing on either the quality or the value of the jewelry the dwarf was selling. Tasslehoff watched as the red-faced dwarf, holding a silver brooch and a fine neck chain, placed them next to a small bracelet in a glass display case. He dusted off his thick hands on the front of his blue tunic, as if he could brush away the rude customer.
"Excuse me, stranger," he said, his tone brittle, "but the quality of my work is excellent—I am the only dwarven metalworker to ever have worked for the Speaker of the Sun himself. My prices are more than fair. I'm selling jewelry here, not fish. If you're looking to barter, then it's fish you want and you should walk down to the market." With that, the annoyed dwarf turned to answer another customer's question. But the surly human would not be ignored.
"Fish," snorted the man. "Now there's a respectable business. Everyone can smell when your merchandise is bad. But with jewelry it's different." The man leaned over the case and peered inside, tracing items with his finger. "You do have one piece that's interesting, if only you'd be reasonable and bargain. . . ."
The dwarf whirled on the man. "I've told you, the bracelet isn't for sale! How thick are you? It's not for sale at any price and especially not for the fish-market figures you've been tossing around." To emphasize his point, the dwarf took a small key from a chain on his thick waist and locked the display case that housed the bracelet in question. "Now, if you're done wasting my time . . ."
Tasslehoff lost track of the verbal joust as he edged closer with his attention focused on the disputed bracelet. It was a rather simply forged copper bracelet with several mounted stones and just enough detail to fascinate a kender—Tasslehoff, in particular. While no such thought passed through his mind, clearly Tasslehoff wanted to see how it felt on his wrist.
In moments he stood next to the dwarven jeweler's stall. It was a rough structure, like most of those at the fair, made of planks laid across barrels or sawhorses on three sides and with a curtain or tent at the back.
This particular stall was no tidier or messier than most, though the racial mix at the festival apparently created some problems for the proprietor. Being a dwarf and about four feet tall, he was most comfortable with his plank counters about two feet off the ground. But most of his customers were human. To get a good look at his wares, they needed the counters considerably higher, which put them just about at the jeweler's nose. In the spirit of compromise, the smith had positioned the planks a l
ittle less than three feet up, making them equally unhandy for everyone.
Tasslehoff stood almost exactly one head taller than the plank and could have comfortably rested his chin on it, if his head had been tired and he had wanted to. But it wasn't, and he didn't. What he really wanted was a very close look at that bracelet.
It's obviously here to be admired, said Tas to himself.
The dwarf had only locked the display case to discourage the rude human. Taking a long, thin needle from his pack, he reached at last across the table, quite unnoticed, and sprang the tiny lock on the case, which the dwarf would have done himself if he were not otherwise engaged, Tas reasoned. Slipping his hand under the glass on one side of the case, his fingers met the bracelet's cool metal. Tas quickly turned away to examine the item, because the light was much better from the other side.
The copper bracelet had an exquisite simplicity that the kender found most appealing. And he was very happy to discover four semiprecious stones, just as he'd suspected. Better yet, they were odd stones, of a variety he'd not seen before. Their color was pale amber. Each was a slightly different shape, but no more than a quarter-inch in diameter. The bracelet was quite small, not meant for a human's or dwarf's thick wrist. Slipping it over his hand, he was delighted to see that it fit perfectly and was as light as a feather.
Tasslehoff turned back to the booth to ask the proprietor a few questions, but, to Tas's surprise, the dwarf was gone. The crowd that had gathered was drifting away, the rude customer having departed.
"Excuse me, but could you . . . Pardon me, but do you know where the . . ." Darting from one person to another as the knot of onlookers swiftly broke up and dispersed, Tasslehoff could not get the attention of anyone who might have seen where the dwarf went. In moments he found himself standing alone in front of the jeweler's booth.
Tas plucked a silver brooch from an open display box on the plank counter. Turning it over in his hand, he could see plainly that it was made by a master. Other pieces in the box bore the same distinctive style, but the bracelet, while apparently made by the same person, was leaner and simpler. It had none of the typical characteristics of dwarven jewelry: heavy filigree, large stones, colorful metallic and mineral inlays, or exotic alloys.
As Tas placed the brooch and several other items back in the display box, he reached a resolve. The bracelet was obviously too wonderful to trust its safety to the meager locks on the dwarf's display boxes. Actually, to do so would be most irresponsible. Instead, Tas would keep it safe on his wrist until he could find the dwarf and return it.
With a light step Tasslehoff turned away from the booth to set out in search of the dwarf jeweler. He expected a difficult pursuit; after all, the spring festival was a large affair, and the dwarf could be anywhere. He had gone about five paces when a thunderous bellow halted his steps.
"Thief! Stop that little thief!"
Quickly Tas scanned around, hoping to catch sight of the dastard, perhaps even bring him down with a quick shot from his hoopak sling. But he saw no one fleeing in panic. He saw no one who looked like a "little thief," though that could have been a figure of speech, he decided. It dawned on Tas that what he did see was a lot of people staring at him.
Tasslehoff glanced over his shoulder in time to see the dwarf jeweler, red faced and steaming mad, charging toward him. The kender deftly stepped out of the dwarf's way to let him pass and catch the thief, but the dwarf snapped to a halt and a powerful arm shot out and grabbed the kender by the throat all in one smooth motion; a surprisingly agile maneuver for a dwarf, Tas thought.
Having moved his hands into a tight grip on Tasslehoff's shoulders, the dwarf shook him roughly, until the kender's tongue lolled in his head. The dwarf sputtered and fumed, so furious was he that he could barely speak.
"Hand over my merchandise, you little ... I could just . . . Your race should have been wiped out during the Cataclysm . . . Guards! Guards! I ought to . . . Guards!"
"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. 'Tour 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 Burr
foot, of the Kendermore Burrfoots. Maybe you've heard of us?
"Happy to make your acquaintance, too, Flint Fire-forge. 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 Hint'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.
[Meetings 02] - Wanderlust Page 2