Riverwind, and how he (Fizban) never ever got lost and
how he always kept the wind on his right cheek so moss
wouldn’t grow on his north side. And then we came to
Huma’s Tomb. The second time.
“Ah! ha!” cried Fizban, charging out of the fog, and
stubbed his toe on the stairs leading up to the temple.
When he saw where we were (for the second time), he
shouted. “You again!” He scowled and shook his fist at the
temple. And he kicked the stairs with the same toe he used
to bump into them.
Fizban hopped around on one foot and yelled at the
stairs, which was fun to watch for a while, but must have
got pretty boring later on because the next thing I knew I
was asleep.
What I mean to say is that the next thing I knew I was
awake, but I must have fallen asleep in order to have
woken up, mustn’t I? I think I slept for a considerable
length of time because I was all stiff and sore from lying
on the slick, black stairs, and I was wet and cold and
hungry.
“Fizban?” I said.
He wasn’t there.
I felt sort of creepy, maybe because the Tomb was
sort of creepy. My stomach twisted up, because I was
afraid something might have happened to Fizban and, to
be honest, this fog was starting to make my skin shiver, as
Flint would say. Then I heard him snore. (Fizban.) He was
sleeping on the grass with his injured foot propped up on a
step and his hat over it (his foot).
I was very glad to see him and guess I startled him,
waking him up suddenly with a yell like that. He
apologized for letting off the fireball, and we were able to
have a hot breakfast, due to the fact that another tree was
burning. He said that my eyebrows would grow back any
day.
After breakfast, off we went again – Fizban with his
foot wrapped up in a dish towel I’d found in my pouch.
We walked around in the fog for I forget how long except
I remember eating again and sleeping again and then we
came to Huma’s Tomb.
For the third time.
I don’t mean to offend any knights when I say this, but
I was beginning to be a little bored at the sight of it.
“This does it,” Fizban muttered, and he started to roll
up his sleeves. “Follow us, will you!”
“I don’t think it’s following us,” I pointed out, and I’m
afraid I spoke pretty sharp. “I think we’re following it!”
“No!” Fizban looked amazed. Then confused. “Do
you think so?”
“Yes,” I snapped, wondering if my eyebrows would
truly grow back and wishing I could see what I looked like
without them. In fact, I was wishing I could see anything,
besides Huma’s Tomb and fog and burning trees.
“Then you don’t think I should let loose with a real
rip-snorter of a spell and blow it sky high?” he asked, in a
kind of wistful tone.
“I don’t think the knights would like that,” I pointed
out testily. “And you know how they can be.”
(No offense. I don’t mean all knights. Just some
knights.)
“Besides,” I continued, “Huma might come back and
be really put out to find that someone blew up his Tomb
while he was gone. And I can’t say that I’d blame him.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Fizban, unhappily. “Maybe I
could just blow up the stairs?”
“How will Huma get up to the door if the stairs are
gone?”
“I see your point.” Fizban heaved a sigh.
“You know, Fizban,” I said sternly (I decided I had to be
stern), “this has been a lot of fun. Really. It’s not everyday
I get my nose almost broken and both my eyebrows singed
off and watch you set fire to two trees and see Huma’s
Tomb in the fog three times (four for me) but I think we’ve
done just about everything exciting there is to do around
here. It’s time to move on. WHEREVER IT IS WE’RE
GOING.” I said the last words in an extra firm tone,