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reached out to aim the wand. The man’s mangled arm went limp, and the wand fell from his nerveless fingers.
The lord, in desperation, attempted to grab the animal by the neck with his remaining good arm. The panther freed himself easily. Crouching on its hind legs, gathering strength, it sprang for the man’s throat, white teeth flashing.
A scream, a ripping sound, and a blood-drenched necklace rolled on the grass—a silver cat’s skull with ruby eyes.
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“Have you everc ijeaRb of Dizzy LoNQtONQue, tfje kender who could throw his hoopak with such skill and accuracy that he could make it return to his hand? Well, one day a minotaur made a bet with Dizzy that he couldn’t throw his staff around the girth of a forest, and Dizzy said. Til bet you the gold in my pocket against the ring in your nose that I can make my hoopak come back to me from around the forest.’ The minotaur accepted and said that if he didn’t make it, he would have Dizzy for dessert. Dizzy naturally agreed.”
Earwig paused to hear if any of his fellow prisoners had any comments, such as “Wow, isn’t that interest-
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ing?” or “I can hardly wait to hear what happens!” There was, however, only silence.
Sighing, Earwig pressed on. “Dizzy took a hundred-pace running start before he let go of his hoopak with a mighty zing! Dizzy and the minotaur waited for hours, listening for the sound of the returning hoopak. After a day, the minotaur said, ‘Well, my lad, it looks like I’m having you for afters,’ and Dizzy said—”
A stabbing pain behind his eyes caused Earwig to lose his place in the story of Dizzy Longtongue. It was certainly an interesting sensation — his temples throbbed so that he thought his head would crack. But, after consideration, the kender decided it was one sensation he could do without.
Earwig tried to raise his hands to massage his eyes, but he couldn’t move them that far, due to the chains on his wrists. That, too, was another interesting development.
“I’m a prisoner in some black, damp cell, probably hundreds of feet below the ground, guarded by thousands of warriors who are armed to the teeth. A situation I’ve wanted to try. ” He enjoyed himself immensely for about an hour, but after that . . .
“You know,” said Earwig to his cellmates, whom he could see only dimly (one of them appeared to be quite bald), “this isn’t nearly as much fun as I’d expected. ”
In point of fact, despite the pain in his head and the chains on his wrists, Earwig was getting bored. And, as anyone on Krynn knows, a bored kender is a most dangerous thing.
“Boy, you guys are sure quiet!” Earwig said, peering into the darkness. All he heard in answer was the steady, melodic drip of water, and even it quieted for a moment, as if wondering what the cell’s latest inhabitant had to say. It soon grew loud again, uninterested in the conversation.
Earwig sighed, thrashing in his chains. He had exam-
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ined the lock as best he could, but it was just too dark to see.
“I couldn’t open it anyway. My tools are missing. ” The kender, thinking of this, became highly indignant. “That’s really not fair. I’ll just mention that, on my way out.”
The chains themselves were heavy and thick, and he doubted if even his mighty friend Caramon could break them in one try. The floor he sat on was cold and wet; the damp was making him sneeze. The walls were constructed from solid rock that nothing, seemingly, would penetrate. He thought of his Uncle Trapspringer, who had purportedly escaped from a prison cell by digging his way out with a spoon. That very spoon had become a sacred relic among kender.
“I wonder what Uncle Trapspringer would do if he were down here?” Earwig said out loud, half-hoping he might get an answer. One never knew when or where Uncle Trapspringer might pop up.
Apparently, however, it wasn’t here.
Earwig had no idea how long he’d been down wherever here was. He only knew he had to get out soon, or his mind would leave on its own.