"I don't know, at the rate I've been losing things lately, I'd better start," mumbled Flint. He pocketed the key and patted it. "I thought you were hungry. What are you gawking at me for?" Tanis shrugged and smiled reassuringly, then the pair set off across Solace.
With the streets empty because of the festival, Tanis and Flint quickly covered the short distance to the inn. They fairly ran up the bridgewalk circling the massive tree trunk that held the inn aloft. With the weather so unseasonably warm, the door to the eatery was propped open with a keg. Otik stood behind the bar, polishing stoneware mugs with a soiled rag. He looked up as Flint clomped in, noted the dwarf's agitated expression, and nodded as Tanis followed him in.
"Hullo! I didn't expect to see you two again until the festival closed down for the evening. Back so soon for more of the dog that bit you?" the hearty innkeeper asked, smirking. He held the mug he was wiping under the ale spigot until a thick finger of foam curled down the outside, then offered it to Flint.
Flint scowled at the mug, but didn't reach for it. "Otik, tell me you've found a copper bracelet," he demanded without preamble.
Never one to hurry, Otik pursed his lips and absently gazed across the room thoughtfully. "A copper bracelet, you say? Hmm. . . . That's a hard one."
Flint's eyes blazed. "Look, either you have found one or you haven't!"
Otik was unperturbed. "I once found a ring . . ."
Flint rolled his eyes impatiently and blew out his mustache. "I meant last night. Did you find a bracelet here, last night, when you cleaned up?"
"Oh, that's different, let me think. ... I didn't clean up last night—waited until this morning. That's right, I came downstairs early to ready the inn for breaking fast. Took a bowl of gruel from the porridge pot—not a good batch at all, though, all lumpy and gluey." Otik's eyes narrowed, and he scrubbed overzealously at a spot on the bar. "I'll be speaking to Amos Cartney. He can't go on selling grains that choke a man."
"Otik, the bracelet," Tanis reminded the innkeeper before Flint exploded.
"Oh, yes." Otik shook his head. "No, no bracelet. I'm sure I didn't find a bracelet. I could ask one of the serving girls, or you could check around your table yourself . . ."
Before the innkeeper could finish the sentence, Flint ran to the table and dropped to his knees, pushing chairs and benches out of his way. He gave up the search after only a few minutes, falling back on his haunches with a resigned, hopeless sigh, his arms folded across his knees.
"That doesn't look good," Otik muttered to Tanis. "What's so important about this bracelet?"
"It was commissioned by a lady from out of town, and she's coming to fetch it at the festival." Tanis remembered something and chuckled. "He lost it once already, yesterday, to a kender . . ." Tanis's voice trailed off as an awful idea took form in his head.
Tanis stepped away from the bar and approached his friend cautiously. The dwarf still sat on the floor, back against the wall, muttering incomprehensibly to himself. "Say, Flint, you don't suppose the bracelet could be with Tasslehoff—?"
"Burrfoot!" Flint spurted. His eyes shot open and his hands twisted into tight fists. "I should have thought of that. I knew he was just another thieving, scheming little—" The dwarf cut his verbal tirade short when he noticed a young serving girl, eyes wide and staring, as she lugged ashes from the fireplace.
"Well, that's simple, then," Tanis said. "The kender said he intended to stay here at the inn for a few days. Let's just find him and get it back," he finished reasonably.
"Yeah, I'll get it back." Flint rose to his feet, an evil glint in his eyes.
Otik leaned across the bar on his elbows. "You talking about that little kender fellow you two were drinking with last night?" Flint nodded. Otik shook his balding head. "You won't find him here. He bounced down the stairs early, ate breakfast—and a mighty big one, I'll add, for such a little fellow—then left, that little sling-stick over his shoulder."
Flint seized Otik's arm. "He was just going out for the day, right?"
Otik shook his head again. "I don't think so ... He paid off his bill." Otik's expression turned to wonder. "Can you imagine, a kender actually paying his bill? Of course, I had to remind him several times—once he was all the way out the door—but he paid it, all right."
"Did he say where he was headed? The festival, perhaps?" Tanis asked.
Otik eased his bulk onto a stool and tapped his chin in thought. "Festival, hmm. I don't recollect . . . no, I'm sure not, come to think of it. Just making conversation, I asked him that very question myself. He said he'd had his fill the day before, said he was going to lick his finger, stick it in the air, and go wherever the wind was blowing."
Tanis shook his head sadly and clapped Flint's hunched shoulder sympathetically. "That about clinches it, Flint. You'll just have to tell this lady the truth and give her money back. She'll probably understand."
Flint had been staring silently at some distant point in space, absorbed in thoughts of revenge and kender hunting. Suddenly he spun, grabbed Tanis by the lapels, and shook him. "You don't understand! I don't have the money to give back to her! I spent it on supplies for our trading trip! I can't very well explain that, can I?"
Tanis struggled to pry Flint's hands from his clothing, but couldn't break the dwarf's grip. "So, offer to make her another one."
"Didn't you hear anything I said last night?" he bellowed. "She gave me special ingredients, and there was only enough for one bracelet! She told me specifically to make only one! She came to me because she trusted me—and me alone—to get it right the first time. What am I supposed to say?" he moaned, his face screwing up into a sarcastic grimace. "'Yes, ma'am, I made it, all right. It was beautiful. I'm sorry I let a fast-fingered kender walk off with it.' I'd be humiliated. Worse still, if word spreads, my reputation as a metalsmith will be ruined!"
Still grasping Tanis's lapels, Flint looked toward the door. "Otik, how long ago would you say the kender left?"
"Four hours, maybe."
'You're not thinking of trying to follow him, are you?" Tanis asked, incredulous. "You don't even know what direction he was headed."
"Sure I do. He's walking with the wind." Flint released Tanis only to shove his finger in his mouth, then stare at it as he held it in front of his face. "This will tell me where he went." Tanis's skeptical expression irritated the desperate dwarf. "What other choice do I have? He's only four hours ahead at most. The way kender travel, stopping to talk to bugs and clouds and Reorx knows what other foolish claptrap, I can probably catch up to him, throttle the bracelet out of him, and be back before dark, with average luck."
"What if this lady customer shows up at the booth looking for the bracelet while you're gone?"
Flint thought about that one for a long moment. "You know my wares well enough that you could stay behind and open the booth. Stall her if she shows up—tell her I'm still working on it or something."
Tanis held his hands up defensively and backed away. "Oh, no, you don't. I'm not staying behind to blow your smoke—besides, I'm a terrible liar—you know I am." Tanis shook his head emphatically. "No, if you're doing this, I'm coming with you. We can easily put a sign up at the booth that says 'Open Tomorrow,' or some such thing."
Flint dared an optimistic look. "That would work. Good, then. Let's be off, before that kender gets another mile ahead of us. And when we find him, I'm going to wrap my fingers around his scrawny little neck and squeeze until—"
"Until he gives back the bracelet, and then you're going to let him go," warned Tanis. "I'm coming along to prevent a murder as much as anything else."
"We'll see," murmured Flint.
Chapter 4
Darken Way
Tas's clear, lilting alto cut through the morning mist, heralding his passage down the
Southway Road
. Since leaving the Inn of the Last Home at daybreak, Tas was sure he had hiked four or five miles, singing the Kender Trailsong to pass the time.
Your one true love's a sailing ship
That anchors at our pier.
We lift her sails, we man her decks,
We scrub the portholes clear.
And yes, our lighthouse shines for her,
And yes, our shores are warm.
We steer her into harbor—
Any port in a storm.
The sailors stand upon the docks,
The sailors stand in line,
As thirsty as a dwarf for gold
Or centaurs for cheap wine.
For all the sailors love her
And flock to where she's moored,
Each man hoping that he might
Go down, all hands on board.
It was an uncommonly pleasant morning, one of the kender's favorite sort. He had awakened to the affable rays of the sun pouring through the colorful stained glass windows of his room. The gay sunshine had made it quite impossible for him to linger in bed. The best breakfast he'd had for months, consisting of spiced potatoes, poached duck eggs, and chokeberry muffins with freshly churned butter, was made even better by the amusing stories of the innkeeper, Otik.
Tas vowed that someday he'd be back through Solace; it was too fine a place not to visit at least twice. In the meantime—well, there was a reason why this phase of a kender's life was called "wanderlust."
No kender could bear the thought of an empty stomach, so before leaving town he had, of course, purchased lunch. Tucked under his arm like a ball was a long, pale loaf of crusty bread; in his pack was a wheel of orange cheese and a flask of fresh milk. Yet he was puzzled by the appearance in his pack of three shiny red apples; he recalled admiring them while he was paying for his other purchases, but how did he inherit them?
The kender shrugged happily.
"Perhaps the merchant had a special—buy cheese, get free apples," he concluded aloud. "Or maybe they just rolled off the cart and fell into my pouch." It was all very curious, the sort of mystery and intrigue kender loved.
On the trail the sun was warm, though the breeze still had a nip to it. Verdant blades of new grass, wild purple crocuses, and hyacinths regularly poked through the few remaining clumps of dirty snow, suggesting that something other than mud existed beneath. The heavy, musty-fresh scent of thawed earth and worms and wet thatch tickled Tasslehoff's heart as much as good food and ale. The kender barely noticed the thick mud that sucked at his newly cleaned deerhide boots and splashed his bright blue leggings as he skipped, topknot dancing, down the road.
Cresting a small hill, Tasslehoff gazed in delight at the panorama stretching around him. Driving the point of his hoopak into the soft ground, Tasslehoff lowered himself onto a chilly but dry slab of exposed rock. He popped open the cylindrical leather case on his belt and pulled out a map of Abanasinia. Along with it came a bracelet, which clinked on the rock and rolled in ever-narrowing circles until it came to a stop next to Tas's feet.
"What's this?" he wondered, but the moment he picked it up he recognized it as Flint's special copper bracelet. "Goodness, that Flint Fireforge is careless with his things. Why would he put this in my map case?" After a moment's reflection, Tas slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. "I need to get this back to Solace as soon as possible, and there's no better way to remind myself than to keep it here on my wrist, where I'll see it. Flint must be terribly worried. Well, won't he be happy to see me again!"
But first, there were more immediate matters. The entire region of Abanasinia was laced with low, narrow mountain ranges and wooded valleys. Three peaks to the west dominated the landscape: the largest was just several miles from Tas, and a smaller pair lay some distance beyond it. He was curious to see whether they had names. The closest one was a magnificent sight, with green, jagged slopes rising up and gradually turning white near the peak. A few small clouds clung to the summit. If it had no name marked down, Tas thought he might be tempted to give it one of his own.
Unrolling the map and spreading it across his lap, Tas traced his progress from Solace with his finger. "Hmm, must be Prayer's EyePeak," he muttered aloud. "What a strange name. I wonder what it means? I'd bet there's an interesting story behind it." Tas noted with disappointment that the crowns beyond Prayer's Eye bore the unimaginative name of DoublePeaks.
Overall the map was rather sketchy, showing only the coastline, major roadways, and other significant features of interest to travelers. The new road to the south of Solace, on which Tasslehoff walked, was appropriately named
Southway Road
, a fact that was duly registered on Tas's map. It followed a stream that wound its way through the foothills defining Darken Wood's northeast border.
Darken Wood, southwest of Tas's position, earned its name from the haunted spirits residing there. The large, mountainous forest would have been foreboding even without its reputation, for Tas knew such forests were filled with twisting gullies, bramble thickets, bogs, and dark caves. He knew that Darken Wood probably was home to more benign forest creatures, too, such as dryads, centaurs, and pegasi, but that did not make its shadowy recesses any more inviting.
Haven, the capital city of the fanatical religious group known as Seekers, and Haven's Vale marked the western border of the forest. On the northwest were DoublePeaks and StarlightCanyon, home of the pegasi. And twenty-five miles from DoublePeaks, the White-rageRiver marked both the southern boundary of Darken Wood and the northern edge of the elven nation of Qualinesti.
For this map to be truly useful, Tas decided, it needed many more landmarks: small streams, valleys, farms, unusually shaped trees or rocks, and good camping spots. Drawing a quill, a vial of ink, and a small knife from his map case, Tas carefully carved a new, sharp tip on the quill. With his leather pouch under the map for support, he sketched a grove of dogwood trees; their distinctive white and pink blooms were too attractive to be overlooked.
After several minutes of this very precise work, Tasslehoff reached for the pack on his left side. Among other things, it held the flask of fresh water he had filled earlier that morning. Mapping always made him thirsty. But he was distracted by an unaccustomed sensation on his wrist; the ornate copper bracelet there felt uncomfortably warm. It must be from the sun shining on it, he decided. As he moved to pull off the jewelry, the world swam around him and Tas felt as if he was about to tumble straight into the sky. Spiced potatoes and duck eggs rose in his throat. He wanted to flatten himself against the rock, but was unsure in which direction it lay. In this state of complete disorientation, something flashed unbidden into his mind. For just a moment, he saw himself reaching into his pack, then, feeling a sharp sting, his hand jerked in pain and a red welt grew on the ink-stained tip of his middle finger.
As suddenly as it came, the vertigo and the vision were gone. Tasslehoff blinked and looked around. His pack was behind him, closed, and his finger was unharmed. He rubbed and flexed it a few times, just to be sure. This was a fine mystery. Almost beside himself with curiosity, the kender dumped the contents of his pack onto the cold stone at his feet. From under the flask, some string, and two pieces of dried meat, poked the hairy legs of a poisonous spider!
"Wow!" Tas exclaimed aloud. "If I had put my hand in there, I'd have been bitten.
"That was like a pre . . . permon ... I saw what was about to happen! I've heard of people who could do that, but I never thought I was one." He shrugged and tapped at his breastbone. "I wonder if it was those three helpings of spiced potatoes. I've never eaten that many at one sitting before." Using the frayed, feathery end of his quill, Tasslehoff flicked the spider from his pile of belongings and watched it scurry away to the safety of another rock. As he scooped his things back into his pack, he couldn't help but admire the bracelet on his wrist.
"I really must return this to that Flint fellow. It gets terribly hot in the sun, and the copper will probably turn my wrist green." With that, Tasslehoff completed his map notes (adding "Spider Rock" alongside the road), recapped his ink bottle, took a long swig from his water flask, repacked and slung his
belongings, and set off south once again, trudging merrily away from Solace and Flint Fireforge.
As Tas marched, he noticed that the road was turning in toward the shadowy wood to avoid a range of rugged hills ahead. This did not alarm him—kender in general were remarkable for their complete lack of fear—but it did occur to him that, if any evil was afoot on the road, here was where it would strike. Just in case, he tightened his belt and pack straps and selected a smooth, palm-sized stone from the road. He was quite a good shot with his hoopak sling. Such a stone could shatter a larger rock, or break an arm or leg. Hefting the impromptu missile, for just a moment he felt genuinely sorry for anything that might try molesting him.
That thought quickly faded from his mind as Tas noticed that, once again, Flint's copper bracelet was uncomfortably warm on his wrist. "If you keep annoying me, I'm going to put you back in my pouch, where I will surely forget about you," he scolded, as if to threaten the item. "Then see if you ever get back to your owner!"
Before he could slip the bothersome ornament from his wrist, Tas took two stumbling steps to the right before recovering his balance by leaning on his staff. The world spun past him again as his stomach seemed to turn upside down. Then he heard the jingling of bells and, forcing himself to look up, he saw a wagon rounding a bend in the road ahead. It was the sort of two-wheeled wagon commonly used by tinkers and peddlers, fully enclosed with brightly painted wooden sides and a canvas top. Tas blinked and rubbed his swirling eyes. When he opened them again, he saw the wagon tipped on its side, one wheel spinning crazily, the horse and driver cruelly slain. The startled kender closed his eyes and shook his head to clear his vision. When he again looked down the road, it was empty.
Then his heart thumped as the wind carried the sound of bells to his ears. He watched in amazement as a wagon, very similar to the one he had just foreseen, rounded the bend. It lurched and rocked along the soft road, pulled by a whiskery gray nag. A human, slightly built, sat on the driver's bench, humming absentmindedly to himself.
[Meetings 02] - Wanderlust Page 5