grew impatient with those like Elistan who, it seemed, placed
too great a burden upon the gods. Let man be responsible for
himself for a change, Tanis thought irritably.
“What is it, Tanis?” Crysania asked coldly.
Realizing he had been staring at her all this while, Tanis
coughed in embarrassment, cleared his throat, and looked
away. Fortunately, the boy returned for Crysania’s horse at this
moment, sparing Tanis the need to answer. He gestured at the
Inn, and the two walked toward it.
“Actually,” Tanis said when the silence grew awkward, “I
would like nothing better than to stay here and visit with my
friends. But I have to be in Qualinesti the day after tomorrow,
and only by hard riding will I arrive in time. My relations with
my brother-in-law are not such that I can afford to offend him
by missing Solostaran’s funeral.” He added with a grim smile,
“Both politically and personally, if you take my meaning.”
Crysania smiled in turn, but – Tanis saw – it was not a smile
of understanding. It was a smile of tolerance, as if this talk of
politics and family were beneath her.
They had reached the door to the Inn. “Besides,” Tanis added
softly, “I miss Laurana. Funny, isn’t it. When she is near and
we’re busy about our own tasks, we’ll sometimes go for days
with just a quick smile or a touch and then we disappear into
our worlds. But when I’m far away from her, it’s like I suddenly
awaken to find my right arm cut off. I may not go to bed think-
ing of my right arm, but when it is gone….”
Tanis stopped abruptly, feeling foolish, afraid he sounded
like a lovesick adolescent. But Crysania, he realized, was
apparently not paying the least bit of attention to him. Her
smooth, marble face had grown, if anything, more cold until
the moon’s silver light seemed warm by comparison. Shaking
his head, Tanis pushed open the door.
I don’t envy Caramon and Riverwind, he thought grimly.
The warm, familiar sounds and smells of the Inn washed
over Tanis and, for long moments, everything was a blur. Here
was Otik, older and fatter, if possible, leaning upon a cane and
pounding him on the back. Here were people he had not seen in
years, who had never had much to do with him before, now
shaking his hand and claiming his friendship. Here was the old
bar, still brightly polished, and somehow he managed to step
on a gully dwarf….
And then there was a tall man cloaked in furs, and Tanis was
clasped inside his friend’s warm embrace.
“Riverwind,” he whispered huskily, holding onto the Plains-
man tightly.
“My brother,” Riverwind said in Que-shu, the language of his
people. The crowd in the Inn was cheering wildly, but Tanis
didn’t hear them, because a woman with flaming red hair and a
smattering of freckles had her hand upon his arm. Reaching
out, still holding fast to Riverwind, Tanis gathered Tika into
their embrace and for long moments the three friends clung to
each other – bound together by sorrow and pain and glory.
Riverwind brought them to their senses. Unaccustomed to
such public displays of emotion, the tall Plainsman regained his
composure with a gruff cough and stood back, blinking his
eyes rapidly and frowning at the ceiling until he was master of
himself again. Tanis, his reddish beard wet with his own tears,
gave Tika another swift hug, then looked around.
“Where’s that big lummox of a husband of yours?” he asked
cheerfully. “Where’s Caramon?”
It was a simple question, and Tanis was totally unprepared
for the response. The crowd fell completely silent; it seemed as
if someone had shut them all up in a barrel. Tika’s face flushed
an ugly red, she muttered something unintelligible, and, bend-
ing down, dragged a gully dwarf up off the floor and shook him
so his teeth rattled in his head.
Startled, Tanis looked at Riverwind, but the Plainsman only
shrugged and raised his dark eyebrows. The half-elf turned to
ask Tika what was going on, but just then felt a cool touch
upon his arm. Crysania! He had completely forgotten her!