“I doubt there are many who’d remember us,” Tanis said, his eyes studying his stocky friend fondly. “Time doesn’t pass for you and me, old dwarf, as it does for humans. Five years is a long time for them, a few moments for us.” Then he smiled. “You haven’t changed.”
“The same can’t be said of others.” Flint sat back down on the stone and began to carve once more. He scowled up at Tanis. “Why the beard? You were ugly enough.”
Tanis scratched his chin. “I have been in lands that were not friendly to those of elven blood. The beard-a gift from my human father,” he said with bitter irony, “did much to hide my heritage.”
Flint grunted. He knew that wasn’t the complete truth. Although the half-elf abhorred killing, Tanis would not be one to hide from a fight behind a beard. Wood chips flew.
“I have been in lands that were not friendly to anyone of any kind of blood.” Flint turned the wood in his hand, examining it. “But we’re home now. All that’s behind us.”
“Not from what I’ve heard,” Tanis said, drawing his hood up over his face again to keep the sun out of his eyes. “The Highseekers in Haven appointed a man named Hederick to govern as High Theocrat in Solace, and he’s turned the town into a hotbed of fanaticism with his new religion.”
Tanis and the dwarf both turned and looked down into the quiet valley. Lights began to wink on, making the homes in the trees visible among the vallenwood. The night air was still and calm and sweet, tinged with the smell of wood smoke from the home fires. Now and again they could hear the faint sound of a mother calling her children to dinner.
“I’ve heard of no evil in Solace,” Flint said quietly.
“Religious persecution . . . inquisitions . . .” Tanis’s voice sounded ominous coming from the depths of his hood. It was deeper, more somber than Flint remembered. The dwarf frowned. His friend had changed in five years. And elves never change! But then Tanis was only half-elven-a child of violence, his mother having been raped by a human warrior during one of the many wars that had divided the different races of Krynn in the chaotic years following the Cataclysm.
“Inquisitions! That’s only for those who defy the new High Theocrat, according to rumor.” Flint snorted. “I don’t believe in the Seeker gods-never did-but I don’t parade my beliefs in the street. Keep quiet and they’ll let you alone-that’s my motto. The Highseekers in Haven are still wise and virtuous men. It’s just this one rotten apple in Solace that’s spoiling the whole barrel. By the way, did you find what you sought?”
“Some sign of the ancient, true gods?” Tanis asked. “Or peace of mind? I went seeking both. Which did you mean?”
“Well, I assume one would go with the other,” Flint growled. He turned the piece of wood in his hands, still not satisfied with its proportions. “Are we going to stand here all night, smelling the cooking fires? Or are we going to go into town and get some dinner?”
“Go.” Tanis waved. The two started down the path together, Tanis’s long strides forcing the dwarf to take two steps to his one. Though it had been many years since they had journeyed together, Tanis unconsciously slowed his pace, while Flint unconsciously quickened his.
“So you found nothing?” Flint pursued.
“Nothing,” Tanis replied. “As we discovered long ago, the only clerics and priests in this world serve false gods. I heard tales of healing, but it was all trickery and magic. Fortunately, our friend Raistlin taught me what to watch-”
“Raistlin!” Flint puffed. “That pasty-faced, skinny magician. He’s more than half charlatan himself. Always sniveling and whining and poking his nose where it doesn’t belong. If it weren’t for his twin brother looking after him, someone would’ve put an end to his magic long ago.”
Tanis was glad his beard hid his smile. “I think the young man was a better magician than you give him credit for,” he said. “And, you must admit, he worked long and tirelessly to help those who were taken in by the fake clerics-as I did.” He sighed.