And there was always a symbol of warning beside it. At its cen-
ter stood the Tower of High Sorcery of Wayreth, where all the
power of the mages of Ansalon was now concentrated. Well,
almost all –
In sudden resolution, Tika got up and thrust open the bed-
room door. Going inside, she found Caramon flat upon the
bed, sobbing and blubbering like a child. Hardening her heart
against this pitiful sight, Tika walked with firm steps over to
the large chest of clothes. As she threw open the lid and began
sorting through the clothes, she found the flask, but simply
tossed it into a corner of the room. Then – at the very
bottom – she came upon what she had been searching for.
Caramon’s armor.
Lifting out a cuisse by its leather strap, Tika stood up and,
turning around, hurled the polished metal straight at Cara-
mon.
It struck him in the shoulder, bouncing off to fall to the floor
with a clatter.
“Ouch!” the big man cried, sitting up. “Name of the Abyss,
Tika! Leave me alone for -”
“You’re going after her,” Tika said firmly, lifting out another
piece of armor. “You’re going after her, if I have to haul you out
of here in a wheelbarrow!”
“Uh, pardon me,” said a kender to a man loitering near the
edge of the road on the outskirts of Solace. The man instantly
clapped his hand over his purse. “I’m looking for the home of a
friend of mine. Well, actually two friends of mine. One’s a
woman, pretty, with red curls. Her name is Tika Waylan -”
Glaring at the kender, the man jerked a thumb. “Over there
yonder.”
Tas looked. “There?” he said pointing, impressed. “That
truly magnificent house in the new vallenwood”?”
“What?” The man gave a brief, sharp laugh. “What’d you
call it? Truly magnificent? That’s a good one.” Still chuckling,
he walked off, laughing and hastily counting the coins in his
purse at the same time.
How rude! Tas thought, absently slipping the man’s pocket
knife into one of his pouches. Then, promptly forgetting the
incident, the kender headed for Tika’s home. His gaze lingered
fondly on each detail of the fine house nestled securely in the
limbs of the still-growing vallenwood tree.
“I’m so glad for Tika,” Tas remarked to what appeared to be a
mound of clothes with feet walking beside him. “And for Cara-
mon, too,” he added. “But Tika’s never really had a true home
of her own. How proud she must be!”
As he approached the house, Tas saw it was one of the better
homes in the township. It was built in the ages-old tradition.of
Solace. The delicate turns of the vaulting gables were shaped to
appear to be part of the tree itself. Each room extended off from
the main body of the house, the wood of the walls carved and
polished to resemble the tree trunk. The structure conformed to
the shape of the tree, a peaceful harmony existed between
man’s work and nature’s to create a pleasing whole. Tas felt a
warm glow in his heart as he thought of his two friends work-
ing on and living in such a wonderful dwelling. Then –
“That’s funny,” said Tas to himself, “I wonder why there’s no
roof.”
As he drew closer, looking at the house more intently, he
noticed it was missing quite a few things – a roof among them.
The great vaulting gables actually did nothing more than form
a framework for a roof that wasn’t there. The walls of the
rooms extended only part way around the building. The floor
was only a barren platform.
Coming to stand right beneath it, Tas peered upwards, won-
dering what was going on. He could see hammers and axes and
saws lying out in the open, rusting away. From their looks,
they hadn’t been used in months. The structure itself was show-
ing the effects of long exposure to weather. Tas tugged his top-
knot thoughtfully. The building had all the makings of the most
magnificent structure in all of Solace – if it was ever finished!
Then Tas brightened. One section of the house was finished.