Dragonlance Tales, Vol. 3 – Love and War

man who had been the old dwarf’s first customer and who

many, many years ago had become a friend.

“Runne’s father, Davron, was killed a few years ago in

a hunting accident. And Galan … is gone now. Someone

must stand in her father’s place at the ceremony and, while

there are uncles to spare, the little maid has remembered her

grandfather’s old friend and asked me to fill that place. I

want to do that, Tanis.”

Though it was high summer now, the dust of the only

street in Seven Wells dancing in the hot breeze like

phantoms around his knees, Tanis well remembered how

the winter firelight had looked like memories in Flint’s eyes

when he told that lean little tale. Yet every event of the

summer seemed part of a conspiracy to keep Flint from

Long Ridge and the wedding.

Hot and too early the summer had come, drying the

stream beds and cutting hard into their travel time. Near

Gateway one of the few storms of the season sent lightning

lancing from the sky to ignite the tinder-dry forest. Two

weeks on the fire line there, digging trenches to help defend

the town from the burning rage of the forest fire, ate into

their travel schedule. A merchant late for their rendezvous

at Pine Glen, and another customer who never did meet

them at Fawn’s Run, left them here in Seven Wells with a

two-day journey to Runne’s home in Long Ridge which

must be reached in one.

Now Tas had vanished.

Caramon would have no part of a search around Seven

Wells for Tas. “Who knows where the little ban dit’s got off

to now? I’M not spending the cool of the morning looking

for him. He knows where we’re bound. Let him catch up.”

Raistlin removed himself from the discussion

altogether. Sturm, who decided it might be profitable to

look while the others argued, returned after a time with the

news that Tas was not to be found.

“Right,” Flint snapped. “Because he probably took off

in the middle of the night for who knows what foolish

reason.” He lifted his pack with one easy swing and settled

it on his back. “I’m not waiting around for him to remember

where he’s supposed to be. Caramon’s right, he’ll catch us

up on the road. And if he doesn’t – then he doesn’t.”

No one was disposed to argue. The road before them

would be a long and hot one. Tas had too often romped

ahead, lagged behind, or struck out on some kender-quest of

his own for anyone to be concerned about him now.

Tanis hefted his own pack and fell in beside Flint. The

kender could be as troublesome as a heel-snapping pup, but

he was well able to take care of himself. This

disappearance, like so many others, would be explained

away with some fantastic tale of adventure or discovery.

Tas had been looking forward to the celebration at Long

Ridge. Likely he would join them there.

Tanis was not concerned.

Keli wasn’t walking well. Tethered to Tigo, as the

kender was to Staag, he stumbled, fell, and this time did not

try to get up. He was too tired, too hot and frightened, and

too certain that wherever the kender was leading them

would be the place where Tigo would kill them both.

It was the kender, loping back from where he’d been

ranging for trail marks and paths, who helped him. Keli

pulled away from his hand and staggered to his feet. “Do

you really think they’re not going to kill you,too?”

The kender only grinned and shook his head. “They

won’t. And they won’t kill you either.”

Staag hauled hard on the kender’s line. “Move away,

little vermin.”

The kender went where he was pulled, but before he

resumed his scouting he looked once over his shoulder and

again winked. Trust me, the wink seemed to say.

Keli was in the way of trusting no one, and he certainly

wasn’t going to trust a kender who would bargain with

killers. The boy hunched his shoulders against the heat and

his fear and trudged on. He ached for home, he who had

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