“I don’t understand,” he said, his big face all screwed
up into thought-wrinkles. “Did the lances work? Or didn’t
they?”
I looked at Tanis. Tanis looked at me. Then Tanis put
his arm around Caramon’s shoulders.
“Caramon,” he said. “I think we better have a little
talk. We used the lances, and we won the war because of
them. And so you see . . .”
The two of them walked off. And I hope Caramon
understands the truth about the lances now, though I think
it’s more likely that he just caught Tanis’s cold.
I was on my own, and I started once again to go down
to Huma’s Tomb when the thought occurred to me.
Huma’s Tomb. Again.
Now, please don’t misunderstand, all you knights who
read this. Huma’s Tomb is a most wonderful and solemn
and sorrowful and feel-sad-until-you-feel-good kind of
place.
But I’d seen about all of it I wanted to see in one
lifetime.
Right then I heard Tanis sneeze, and I figured he’d
need his handkerchief, which he’d left behind in my
pocket, so I decided I’d go take it to him instead.
And I figure that about now Owen Glendower must
be looking for that little painting of his that he keeps
losing. I plan to give it right back to him . . . when he
leaves Huma’s Tomb.