been so proud to leave it as his father’s courier only a week
ago.
Ergon, his father, had been almost casual about
charging his son with the message to his old friend Carthas.
“Give him the scroll, son, but remember to give him
first my regards and personally tender my regrets that I will
not be able to accompany him this year on his horse-buying
expedition. I must honor my promise to your mother’s
sister. Your uncle was a long time ill before he died.
Though he tended his business as best he could, your aunt
will need my help to untangle the mare’s nest he left her.
“Tell all this to Carthas. He will understand.”
Keli had accepted the charge as though entrusted with a
message to the High Clerist himself.
The tavern at Seven Wells had been Keli’s third stopping
place. And, it now seemed, his last. He’d come in late,
stabled his horse, and snatched a quick meal. When he tried
for a room, he was able to get lodging only in the barn with
his horse. A party of horse traders filled the paddocks with
their stock and most of the tavern’s rooms with themselves.
So tired had Keli been that the straw seemed a princely
bed. He’d fallen asleep easily to the stamp and chuff of
horses.
And wakened to the nightmare of the goblin and
moonlight streaming along Tigo’s hook-hand. One of them
hit him hard. There had been nothing but pain and darkness,
and finally, the woods.
His horse they must have turned out among the stock in
the paddocks so that none would wonder in the morning
why the young courier had gone and left his mount behind.
And they’d snatched up the kender as well. Keli still
didn’t understand why, couldn’t fasten on a reason. Tigo
jerked on the tether again as though calling to heel a
wandering dog. Keli tried to pick up his pace.
He could either look at the ground or the kender
scouting ahead, and he chose the kender coursing the forest
as though leading them through streets of a town he knew
well. Bright blue leggings flashing in and out of the
underbrush, topknot bouncing, the kender reminded Keli of
a blue jay.
Chatters like one, too, Keli thought. The boy didn’t
mind the kender’s chatter very much. Running like the song
of the river they’d left behind, it took his mind off what
must await him at the journey’s end.
That would be death. The kender talked long and often,
but he was not the only one who did. In fits and snatches
Keli had picked up bits of his captors’ guarded conversation.
Staag was pressing for opening ransom negotiations.
Tigo had other plans.
“Aye,” Tigo snarled once, “we’ll send a ransom demand.
But it’s not only ransom that one will be paying out for his
son. He owes me, Ergon does. He’ll pay the coin, but all
he’ll find is a body.”
Sweat traced paths in the dust on Keli’s face, ran
stinging into his eyes. After a moment the kender dropped
back, jostled him lightly, and stumbled to cover the move.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “This is just like a game
of Hide and Go Seek, only I’m sure my friends will find us.
Tanis is the best tracker there is. And Raistlin and Sturm
and Caramon learned from him. The place I’m going to take
us to is a place Flint showed me a couple of years ago. Once
they get on our trail, Flint will know right off where I’m
heading. Probably.”
Hide and Go Seek? Keli turned away in disgust. “This
is not a game, kender. I told you, those two are going to kill
me.”
As before, the kender grinned and shook his head.
“Those two? Flint alone could handle three or four of that
sort. Or five, or six, depending on the circumstances . . .”
Tigo booted the kender up ahead again, and Keli was
left with something to consider.
His friends, the kender had said. Keli squinted hard at
the kender’s back. He DID look familiar. Had he been at the
tavern last night? Aye, and, despite what Staag had said