Then, just as Tanis was beginning to relax, the front door of
the Inn opened. Light streamed out, forming a golden path of’
welcome, the smell of spiced potatoes and the sound of laugh-
ter came to him on the evening breeze. The memories returned
in a rush, and Tanis bowed his head, overcome.
But, perhaps fortunately, he did not have time to dwell upon
the past. As he and his companion approached the Inn, a sta-
bleboy ran out to grab the horses’ reins.
“Food and water,” said Tanis, sliding wearily from the saddle
and tossing the boy a coin. He stretched to ease the cramps in
his muscles. “I sent word ahead that I was to have a fresh horse
waiting for me here. My name is Tanis Half-Elven.”
The boy’s eyes opened wide; he had already been staring at
the bright armor and rich cloak Tanis wore. Now his curiosity
was replaced by awe and admiration.
“Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, abashed at being addressed by
such a great hero. “T-the horse is ready, sh-shall I bring him
around n-now, sir?”
“No.” Tanis smiled. “I will eat first. Bring him in two hours.”
“T-two hours. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Bobbing his head, the
boy took the reins Tanis pressed into his unfeeling hand, then
stood there, gaping, completely forgetting his task until the
impatient horse nudged him, nearly knocking him over.
As the boy hurried off, leading Tanis’s horse away, the half-
elf turned to assist his companion down from her saddle.
“You must be made of iron,” she said, looking at Tanis as he
helped her to the ground. “Do you really intend to ride further
tonight?”
“To tell the truth, every bone in my body aches,” Tanis began,
then paused, feeling uncomfortable. He was simply unable to
feel at ease around this woman.
Tanis could see her face reflected in the light beaming from
the Inn. He saw fatigue and pain. Her eyes were sunken into
pale, hollow cheeks. She staggered as she stepped upon the
ground, and Tanis was quick to give her his arm to lean upon.
This she did, but only for a moment. Then, drawing herself up,
she gently but firmly pushed him away and stood alone, glanc-
ing at her surroundings without interest.
Every move hurt Tanis, and he could imagine how this
woman must feel, unaccustomed as she was to physical exer-
tion or hardship, and he was forced to regard her with grudging
admiration. She had not complained once on their long and
frightening journey. She had kept up with him, never lagging
behind and obeying his instructions without question.
Why, then, he wondered, couldn’t he feel anything for her?
What was there about her that irritated him and annoyed him?
Looking at her face, Tanis had his answer. The only warmth
there was the warmth reflected from the Inn’s light. Her face
itself – even exhausted – was cold, passionless, devoid of –
what? Humanity? Thus she had been all this long, dangerous
journey. Oh, she had been coolly polite, coolly grateful, coolly
distant and remote. She probably would have coolly buried
me, Tanis thought grimly. Then, as if to reprimand him for his
irreverent thoughts, his gaze was drawn to the medallion she
wore around her neck, the Platinum Dragon of Paladine. He
remembered Elistan’s parting words, spoken in private just
before their journey’s beginning.
“It is fitting that you escort her, Tanis,” said the now-frail
cleric. “In many ways, she begins a journey much like your
own years ago – seeking self-knowledge. No, you are right, she
doesn’t know this herself yet.” This in answer to Tanis’s dubious
look. “She walks forward with her gaze fixed upon the heav-
ens.” Elistan smiled sadly. “She has not yet learned that, in so
doing, one will surely stumble. Unless she learns, her fall may
be hard.” Shaking his head, he murmured a soft prayer. “But we
must put our trust in Paladine.”
Tanis had frowned then and he frowned now, thinking about
it. Though he had come to a strong belief in the true gods –
more through Laurana’s love and faith in them than anything
else – he felt uncomfortable trusting his life to them, and he