“Where Highbulp is.”
“And where is the Highpul-bulp?” the red-robed mage asked
in hopeless tones.
“Home,” Bupu stated succinctly. “I tell you that before. You
got ears under that hood? Maybe you deaf.” The gully dwarf
disappeared from Tas’s sight for a moment, diving into her bag.
When she reappeared, she held another dead lizard, a leather
thong wrapped around its tail. “Me cure. You stick tail in ear
and -”
“Thank you,” said the mage hastily, “but my hearing is quite
perfect, I assure you. Uh, what do you call your home? What is
the name?”
“The Pitt. Two Ts. Some fancy name, huh?” Bupu said
proudly. “That Highbulp’s idea. Him ate book once. Learned
lots. All right here.” She patted her stomach.
Tas clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from giggling.
The red-robed mage was experiencing similiar problems as
well. Tas saw the man’s shoulders shake beneath his red robes,
and it took him a while to respond. When he did, his voice had
a faint quiver.
“What… what do humans call the name of your – the –
uh – Pitt?”
Tas saw Bupu scowl. “Dumb name. Sound like someone spit
up. Skroth.”
“Skroth,” the red-robed mage repeated, mystified. “Skroth,”
he muttered. Then he snapped his fingers. “I remember. The
kender said it in the Conclave. Xak Tsaroth?”
“Me say that once already. You sure you not want lizard cure
for ears? You put tail -”
Heaving a sigh of relief, the red-robed mage held his hand
out over Bupu’s head. Sprinkling what looked like dust down
over her (Bupu sneezed violently), Tas heard the mage chant
strange words.
“Me go home now?” Bupu asked hopefully.
The mage did not answer, he kept chanting.
“Him not nice,” she muttered to herself, sneezing again as the
dust slowly coated her hair and body. “None of them nice. Not
like my pretty man.” She wiped her nose, snuffling. “Him not
laugh… him call me ‘little one.’ ”
The dust on the gully dwarf began to glow a faint yellow. Tas
gasped softly. The glow grew brighter and brighter, changing
color, turning yellow-green, then green, then green-blue, then
blue and suddenly –
“Bupu!” Tas whispered.
The gully dwarf was gone!
“And I’m next!” Tas realized in horror. Sure enough, the red-
robed mage was limping across the room to the bed where the
thoughtful kender had made up a dummy of himself so that
Caramon wouldn’t be worried in case he woke up.
“Tasslehoff Burrfoot,” the red-robed mage called softly. He
had passed beyond Tas’s sight. The kender stood frozen, wait-
ing for the mage to discover he was missing. Not that he was
afraid of getting caught. He was used to getting caught and was
fairly certain he could talk his way out of it. But he was afraid
of being sent home! They didn’t really expect Caramon to go
anywhere without him, did they?
“Caramon needs me!” Tas whispered to himself in agony.
“They don’t know what bad shape he’s in. Why, what would
happen if he didn’t have me along to drag him out of bars?”
“Tasslehoff,” the red-robed mage’s voice repeated. He must
be nearing the bed.
Hurriedly, Tas’s hand dove into his pouch. Pulling out a fist-
ful of junk, he hoped against hope he’d found something use-
ful. Opening his small hand, he held it up to the candlelight. He
had come up with a ring, a grape, and a lump of moustache
wax. The wax and the grape were obviously out. He tossed
them to the floor.
“Caramon!” Tas heard the red-robed mage say sternly. He
could hear Caramon grunt and groan and pictured the mage
shaking him. “Caramon, wake up. Where’s the kender?”
Trying to ignore what was happening in the room, Tas con-
centrated on examining the ring. It was probably magical. He’d
picked it up in the third room to the left. Or was it the fourth?
And magical rings usually worked just by being worn. Tas was
an expert on the subject. He’d accidentally put on a magical
ring once that had teleported him right into the heart of an evil
wizard’s palace. There was every possibility this might do the