The old man’s face seemed to age and grow sorrowful. He stroked the young boy’s hair. “Be careful what you wish, my child,” he said softly. Then he fell silent.
“The story-” the boy prompted.
“Oh, yes. Well, once upon a time Paladine heard the prayer of a very great knight, Huma-”
“Huma from the ‘Canticle’?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Huma became lost in the forest. He wandered and wandered until he despaired because he thought he would never see his homeland again. He prayed to Paladine for help, and there suddenly appeared before him a white stag.”
“Did Huma shoot it?” the boy asked.
“He started to, but his heart failed him. He could not shoot an animal so magnificent. The stag bounded away. Then it stopped arid looked back at him, as if waiting. Huma began to follow it. Day and night, he followed the stag until it led him to his homeland. He offered thanks to the god, Paladine-”
“Blashphemy!” snarled a voice loudly. A chair crashed back.
Tanis put down his mug of ale, looking up. Everyone at the table stopped drinking to watch the drunken Theocrat.
“Blasphemy!” Hederick, weaving unsteadily on his feet, pointed at the old man. “Heretic! Corrupting our youth! I’ll bring you before the counshel, old man.” The Seeker fell back a step, then staggered forward again. He looked around the room with a pompous air. “Call the guardsh!” He made a grandiose gesture. “Have them arresht thish man and thish woman for singing lewd songsh. Obviously a witch! I’ll confishcate thish staff!”
The Seeker lurched across the floor to the barbarian woman, who was staring at him in disgust. He reached clumsily for her staff.
“No,” the woman called Goldmoon spoke coolly. “That is mine. You cannot take it.”
“Witch!” the Seeker sneered. “I am the High Theocrat! I take what I want.”
He started to make another grab for the staff. The woman’s tall companion rose to his feet. “The Chieftain’s Daughter says you will not take it,” the man said harshly. He shoved the Seeker backward.
The tall man’s push was not rough, but it knocked the drunken Theocrat completely off balance. His arms flailing wildly, he tried to catch himself. He lurched forward-too far-tripped over his official robes, and fell head first into the roaring fire.
There was a whoosh and a flare of light, then a sickening smell of burning flesh. The Theocrat’s scream tore through the stunned silence as the crazed man leaped to his feet and started whirling around in a frenzy. He had become a living torch!
Tanis and the others sat, unable to move, paralyzed with the shock of the incident. Only Tasslehoff had wits enough to run forward, anxious to try and help the man. But the Theocrat was screaming and waving his arms, fanning the flames that were consuming his clothes and his body. There seemed no way that the little kender could help him.
“Here!” The old man grabbed the barbarian’s feather-decorated staff and handed it to the kender. “Knock him down. Then we can smother the fire.”
Tasslehoff took the staff. He swung it, using all his strength, and hit the Theocrat squarely in the chest. The man fell to the ground. There was a gasp from the crowd. Tasslehoff himself stood, opened-mouthed, the staff clutched in his hand, staring down at the amazing sight at his feet. The flames had died instantly. The man’s robes were whole, undamaged. His skin was pink and healthy. He sat up, a look of fear and awe on his face. He stared down at his hands and his robes. There was not a mark on his skin. There was not the smallest cinder smoking on his robes.
“It healed him!” the old man proclaimed loudly. “The staff Look at the staff!”
Tasslehoff s eyes went to the staff in his hands. It was made of blue crystal and was glowing with a bright blue light!
The old man began shouting. “Call the guards! Arrest the kender! Arrest the barbarians! Arrest their friends! I saw them come in with this knight.” He pointed at Sturm.
“What?” Tanis leaped up. “Are you crazy, old man?”