“Better leave him alone, Tanis,” Flint advised. “If you ask me, the only reason he understands Caramon is that he’s as crazy as Raistlin.”
“I didn’t ask you, but that’s all right,” Tanis said, sitting down beside the dwarf to eat his own ration of quith-pa. “We’re going to have to be going soon. With luck, Tas will find a map-”
Flint snorted. “Humpf! A lot of good that will do us. The last map of his we followed took us to a sea port without a sea!”
Tanis hid his smile. “Maybe this will be different,” he said. “At least it’s better than following Fizban’s directions.”
“Well, you’re right there,” the dwarf admitted grumpily. Giving Fizban a sideways glance, Flint leaned over near Tanis. “Didn’t you ever wonder how he managed to live through that fall at Pax Tharkas?” he asked in a loud whisper.
“I wonder about a lot of things,” Tanis said quietly. “Like- how are you feeling?”
The dwarf blinked, completely taken aback by the unexpected question. “Fine!” he snapped, his face flushing.
“It’s just, sometimes I’ve seen you rub your left arm,” Tanis continued.
“Rheumatism,” the dwarf growled. “You know it always bothers me in the spring. And sleeping on the ground doesn’t help. I thought you said we should be moving along.” The dwarf busied himself with packing.
“Right.” Tanis turned away with a sigh. “Found anything, Tas?”
“Yes, I think so,” the kender said eagerly. Rolling up his maps, he stashed them in his map case, then slipped the case into a pouch, taking a quick peek at his golden dragon while he was at it. Although seemingly made of metal, the figurine changed position in the oddest way. Right now, it was curled around a golden ring-Tanis’s ring, one Laurana had given him and he had returned to her, when he told her he was in love with Kitiara. Tasslehoff became so absorbed in staring at the dragon and the ring that he nearly forgot Tanis was waiting.
“Oh,” he said, hearing Tanis cough impatiently. “Map. Right. Yes, you see, once when I was just a little kender, my parents and I traveled through the Khalkist Mountains-that’s where we are now-on our way to Kalaman. Usually, you know, we took the northern, longer route. There was a fair, every year, at Taman Busuk, where they sold the most marvelous things, and my father never missed it. But one year-I think it was the year after he’d been arrested and put in the stocks over a misunderstanding with a jeweler-we decided to go through the mountains. My mother’d always wanted to see Godshome, so we-”
“The map?” interrupted Tanis.
“Yes, the map.” Tas sighed. “Here. It was my father’s, I think. Here’s where we are, as near as Fizban and I can figure. And here’s Godshome.”
“What’s that?”
“An old city. It’s in ruins, abandoned during the Cataclysm-”
“And probably crawling with draconians,” Tanis finished.
“No, not that Godshome,” Tas continued, moving his small finger over into the mountains near the dot that marked the city. “This place is also called Godshome. In fact, it was called that long before there was a city, according to Fizban.” Tanis glanced at the old mage, who nodded.
“Long ago, people believed the gods lived there,” he said solemnly. “It is a very holy place.”
“And it’s hidden,” added Tas, “in a bowl in the center of these mountains. See? No one ever goes there, according to Fizban. No one knows about the trail except him. And there is a trail marked on my map, at least into the mountains…”
“No one ever goes there?” Tanis asked Fizban.
The old mage’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “No.”
“No one except you?” Tanis pursued.
“I’ve been lots of place, Half-Elven!” The mage snorted. “Got a year? I’ll tell you about them!” He shook a finger at Tanis. “You don’t appreciate me, young man! Always suspicious! And after everything I’ve done for you-”
“Uh, I wouldn’t remind him about that,” Tas said hurriedly, seeing Tanis’s face darken. “Come along. Old One.”
The two hurried off down the trail, Fizban stomping along angrily, his beard bristling.
“Did the gods really live in this place we’re going to?” Tas asked him to keep him from bothering Tanis.
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