Shaking his head, Tas turned back to the cartographer’s stall. But the pleasure had gone out of the day. He couldn’t even feel excited when the lock fell open into his small hand.
“Hey, you!” shrieked a voice. “Kender! Get away from there!”
A man was running up to him, puffing and red in the face. Probably the cartographer himself.
“You shouldn’t have run,” Tas said listlessly. “You needn’t bother opening up for me.”
“Opening!” The man’s jaw sagged. “Why, you little thief! I got here just in time-”
“Thanks all the same.” Tas dropped the lock into the man’s hand and walked off, absentmindedly evading the enraged cartographer’s effort to grab him. “I’ll be going now. I’m not feeling very well. Oh, by the way, did you know that lock’s broken? Worthless. You should be more careful. You never know who could sneak in. No, don’t thank me. I haven’t got time. Goodbye.”
Tasslehoff wandered off. Cries of “Thief! Thief!” rang out behind him. A town guardsman appeared, forcing Tas to duck into a butcher’s shop to avoid being run over. Shaking his head over the corruption of the world, the kender glanced about, hoping for a glimpse of the culprit. Seeing no one interesting in sight, he kept going, and suddenly wondered irritably how Flint had managed to lose him again.
Laurana shut the door, turned the key in the lock, and leaned thankfully against it, reveling in the peace and quiet and welcome solitude of her room. Tossing the key on a table, she walked wearily over to her bed, not even bothering to light a candle. The rays of the silver moon streamed in through the leaded glass panes of the long, narrow window.
Downstairs, in the lower rooms of the castle, she could still hear the sounds of merrymaking she had just left. It was nearly midnight. She had been trying for two hours to escape. It finally took Lord Michael’s intercession on her behalf- pleading her exhaustion from the battles-that induced the lords and ladies of the city of Kalaman to part with her.
Her head ached from the stuffy atmosphere, the smell of strong perfume, and too much wine. She shouldn’t have drunk so much, she knew. She had a weak head for wine and, anyway, she didn’t really like it. But the pain in her head was easier to bear than the pain in her heart.
Throwing herself down on the bed, she thought hazily about getting up and closing the shutters, but the moon’s light was comforting. Laurana detested lying in the darkness. Things lurked in the shadows, ready to spring out at her. I should get undressed, she thought, I’ll wrinkle this dress… and it’s borrowed…
There was a knock at her door.
Laurana woke with a start, trembling. Then she remembered where she was. Sighing, she lay very still, closing her eyes again. Surely they’d realize she was asleep and go away.
There was another knock, more insistent than the first.
“Laurana…”
“Tell me in the morning, Tas,” Laurana said, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.
“It’s important, Laurana,” Tas called. “Flint’s with me.”
Laurana heard a scuffling sound outside the door.
“Come on, tell her-”
“I will not! This was your doing!”
“But he said it was important and I-”
“All right, I’m coming!” Laurana sighed. Stumbling out of bed, she fumbled for the key on the table, unlocked the door, and flung it open.
“Hi, Laurana!” Tas said brightly, walking inside. “Wasn’t that a wonderful party? I’ve never eaten roast peacock before-”
“What is it, Tas?” Laurana sighed, shutting the door behind them.
Seeing her pale, drawn face, Flint poked the kender in the back. Giving the dwarf a reproachful look, Tas reached into the pocket of his fleecy vest and drew forth a rolled scroll of parchment, tied with a blue ribbon.
“A-a cleric-sort of-said to give this to you, Laurana,” Tas said.
“Is that all?” Laurana asked impatiently, snatching the scroll from the kender’s hand. “It’s probably a marriage proposal. I’ve had twenty in the last week. Not to mention proposals of a more unique nature.”
“Oh, no,” said Tas, suddenly serious. “It’s not anything like that, Laurana. It’s from-” He stopped.
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