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