odd turns now: the kender winked.
Before Keli could be certain he’d seen the wink, Tigo
cuffed the kender hard.
“These maps! How recent, how dependable?”
With a speed that left Keli confused, the kender became
the spirit of helpful affability. “Some are very old – I’ve
been collecting them for years, you know. It’s kind of a
hobby of mine. I like the drawings, especially the things the
mappers sketch when they don’t know who or what lives in
the land. And I like the little legends and poems in the
borders of the larger ones. That one, the one drawn on hide,
is my oldest and the one I think I like the best. I got it in
Schallsea; an old man gave it to me and he said – ”
Tigo’s hook-hand flashed silver in a shaft of sunlight,
dancing threateningly before the kender’s eyes.
“Right. Some of them are old, some are new. I guess it
depends on where you want to go,” the kender added
hastily.
“Away from here,” Staag growled, “and fast.”
The kender did not give the goblin a glance, but spoke
to Tigo. “Then you’re really lucky you brought me along.
I’ve been all around these parts, many times, and I know
them nearly as well as I know the inside of my own eyelids.
That’s why I don’t have any maps of this area in the case.
Who needs one? Not me. Where do you want to go?”
Tigo hissed a snake’s warning. “What makes you think
we need a guide?”
“You said so.” The kender was all innocence now. Keli
marveled at his composure. “Not in so many words, of
course, but I can tell. Otherwise why would you be so
interested in my maps?”
“You make a large guess, kender.”
Keli thought so, too, but held his breath now, waiting.
The kender shrugged as best he could. “Maybe I was
wrong. But if you DID need a guide – and I’m not saying
that you do – I’d be the one you’d need. As I said, I know – ”
“Aye,” Staag snarled, “all the lands about here.”
“That’s right, I do. What do you think? Do you need a
guide?” The kender lowered his voice in a confidential
manner. “If you want to kill someone, for example – ”
Staag rumbled threateningly, loosed the dagger at his
belt.
“Whoa! Wait! I’m not saying you do. I’m not saying
you don’t. But I can take you to a place I know where you
can do whatever you need to do and no one will be the
wiser.”
“In exchange for what?” Tigo asked.
The kender snorted. “For my life!”
Keli’s heart sank. Whatever that wink had been, it
certainly hadn’t been an expression of solidarity.
Tigo shook his head, baring his teeth in a deadly smile.
“What’s your bond, kender? What will keep you from
sneaking off in the middle of the night, leaving us with
daggers in our backs?”
Staag laughed then, thunder and nightmare. Keli’s
stomach turned weakly. “The same thing that keeps him
here now, Tigo. Loose his feet so he can walk, but keep his
hands tied and him on a short rein.”
Keli shifted away from the kender. This was no fellow
prisoner now, but one in league with these two who, for
some reason Keli could not figure out, wanted to kill him.
He squeezed his eyes shut against a cold wash of despair
and only partly heard the argument between Tigo and the
goblin about whether the kender’s pouches should be rifled
now or later.
It hardly bore listening to anyway: Tigo argued that
there was no time, and clearly Tigo was someone whom
even the goblin feared. I’m not dead yet, the boy thought,
but it’s only a matter of time and place now. And I don’t
even know why!
*****
Tanis had suspected all winter that the real purpose for
Flint’s journey this year was to attend Runne’s wedding.
Flint mentioned the occasion only once, when he and Tanis
were mapping out the summer’s trips, and then only told a
brief tale of how the girl was the grandchild of Galan, the