and back in this time!”
“I was younger then, and immature. My body’s mature now,
and I have to build up my strength,” Caramon said loftily, “little
by little.”
“He’s building up something little by little,” Tas said to him-
self grimly, “but strength isn’t it!”
Caramon could not walk much more than an hour before he
was forced to sit down and rest. Often he collapsed completely,
moaning in pain, sweat rolling off his body. It would take Tas,
Bupu, and the flask of dwarf spirits to get him back on his feet
again. He complained bitterly and continually. His armor
chafed, he was hungry, the sun was too hot, he was thirsty. At
night, he insisted that they stop in some wretched inn. Then Tas
had the thrill of watching the big man drink himself senseless.
Tas and the bartender would haul him to his room where he
would sleep until half the morning was gone.
After the third day of this (and their twentieth tavern) and
still no sign of Lady Crysania, Tasslehoff was beginning to
think seriously about returning to Kenderhome, buying a nice
little house, and retiring from adventuring.
It was about midday when they arrived at the Cracked Mug.
Caramon immediately disappeared inside. Heaving a sigh that
came from the toes of his new, bright green shoes, Tas stood
with Bupu, looking at the outside of the slovenly place in grim
silence.
“Me no like this anymore,” Bupu announced. She glared at
Tas accusingly. “You say we go find pretty man in red robes. All
we find is one fat drunk. I go back home, back to Highbulp,
Phudge I.”
“No, don’t leave! Not yet!” Tas cried desperately. “We’ll find
the – uh – pretty man. Or at least a pretty lady who wants to
help the pretty man. Maybe… maybe we’ll learn something
here.”
It was obvious Bupu didn’t believe him. Tas didn’t believe
himself.
“Look,” he said, “just wait for me here. It won’t be much far-
ther. I know – I’ll bring you something to eat. Promise you
won’t leave?”
Bupu smacked her lips, eyeing Tas dubiously. “Me wait,” she
said, plopping down into the muddy road. “At least till after
lunch.”
Tas, his pointed chin jutting out firmly, followed Caramon
into the tavern. He and Caramon were going to have a little
talk –
As it turned out, however, that wasn’t necessary.
“Your health, gentlemen,” Caramon said, raising a glass to
the slovenly crowd gathered in the bar. There weren’t many – a
couple of traveling dwarves, who sat near the door, and a party
of humans, dressed like rangers, who lifted their mugs in return
to Caramon’s salute.
Tas sat down next to Caramon, so depressed that he actually
returned a purse his hands had (without his knowing it)
removed from the belt of one of the dwarves as he passed.
“I think you dropped this,” Tas mumbled, handing it back to
the dwarf, who stared at him in amazement.
“We’re looking for a young woman,” Caramon said, settling
‘down for the afternoon. He recited her description as he had
recited it in every tavern from Solace on. “Black hair, small,
delicate, pale face, white robes. She’s a cleric -”
“Yeah, we’ve seen her,” said one of the rangers.
Beer spurted from Caramon’s mouth. “You have?” he man-
aged to gasp, choking.
Tas perked up. “Where?” he asked eagerly.
“Wandering about the woods east of here,” said the ranger,
jerking his thumb.
“Yeah?” Caramon said suspiciously. “What’re you doing out
in the woods yourselves?”
“Chasing goblins. There’s a bounty for them in Haven.”
“Three gold pieces for goblin ears,” said his friend, with a
toothless grin, “if you care to try your luck.”
“What about the woman?” Tas pursued.
“She’s a crazy one, I guess.” The ranger shook his head. “We
told her the land out around here was crawling with goblins
and she shouldn’t be out alone. She just said she was in the
hands of Paladine, or some such name, and he would take care
of her.”
Caramon heaved a sigh and lifted his drink to his lips. “That
sounds like her all right -”
Leaping up, Tas snatched the glass from the big man’s hand.