Flint's own eyes narrowed with displeasure. "Where is it?" He ran his hands up both of Gaesil's arms. "You're lying to me!"
"Wait, Flint," Tanis said softly. "He seems genuinely bewildered."
"I am! I swear to you!" Gaesil's expression changed suddenly. "I remember now! The bard! He was the one! He came in here last night. He must have hit me on the head and taken the bracelet."
"Now why would someone take a little copper bracelet like that? Surely there are more valuable things in here," Flint said, not convinced.
Gaesil looked scornful. "You think I own something more valuable than a bracelet with magical power? Look around. Everything you see is exactly what it looks like."
"What power?" Flint demanded. "That bracelet has no magical power. What are you talking about? Speak up, man!"
Gaesil struggled out of Flint's lap and sat up. "I don't know how to explain it, really. Suddenly and without warning it gets warm—almost hot—and then, instantly, you know something, like you had just remembered it. Only you never knew it before because it hasn't happened yet! It's very strange."
"You mean you hallucinate?" Tanis asked, confused.
Gaesil shook his head. "No, . . . well, sort of. What I mean is, it's like a memory, only you know that it's completely new. Sometimes it's like a vision, something you see in your mind. Sometimes it's long, other times it's just a single picture or thought. But whatever it is, it actually comes true shortly after you see it."
"The bracelet I made foresees the future? Bah!" Flint snorted. He rolled his eyes at such a silly notion.
"I bet it does," Tasslehoff called from the door. He had returned with the water and stopped at the entrance, listening. "Hi, Gaesil. Sorry about your head. But the same thing happened to me—seeing the future, I mean. Once I saw a spider in my pack before I even opened it. Good thing, too. And then there was that nasty little encounter with the hobgoblins. . . ." Tas quickly went on to explain to Tanis and Flint what had happened when he wore the bracelet before meeting the tinker.
Flint still looked skeptical. "You're the last one I'd believe about such nonsense, kender."
"Wait a minute, Flint," Tanis said again, scratching his chin. "Didn't you say this woman—Selana—gave you special elements and ingredients to blend into the metal? Components you had never seen before? You said yourself she was very mysterious about the request and secretive about herself. It would explain why she paid you so handsomely."
Flint could no longer dismiss the evidence. He sat and held his head in his hands. "Now what do I do? It was bad enough when I thought I had lost an ordinary bracelet. But if this thing can do what you say it can, Selana is going to be even more upset about its loss."
"A woman, you say?" Gaesil asked. "An odd-looking woman with pale skin and incredible blue-green eyes stopped by the booth yesterday looking for you. She seemed perturbed when I told her you were gone."
"Oh, gods, that's her!" Flint moaned, tearing at the wisps of his graying hair. "I've just got to get that bracelet back before she finds me!" He whirled on Gaesil. "Did she say where she was staying? If she'd come back? Did she seem angry?"
"Never mind her," Tanis said. "How do you propose to find the bracelet when it was stolen by someone we can't begin to trace, or even identify?"
"I'm sure it was the bard," Gaesil said firmly. "And I'm afraid I brought it upon myself." Face glowing in embarrassment, the tinker recounted what he could of his conversation with the storyteller, including a description.
"How hard can it be to find someone named Delbridge Fidington?" wondered Tasslehoff.
"Near to impossible," moaned Flint, "if we don't know which direction he went. Besides, a weird name like that
must be an alias." The dwarf paced to and fro in the cramped interior, his heavy footfalls shaking the wagon and rattling the pans and tools hanging on the walls.
"I might have a vague idea what direction he went," said Gaesil. All eyes turned toward him, and he continued. "Before I mentioned the bracelet to him, he spoke to me about how hard it was finding steady work as a bard. Then he said he was headed north, looking for someplace where he didn't have to perform for low-paying 'riffraff'."
"That settles that," announced Flint. "We're heading north. And when I catch that thieving rascal, I'll rattle his head right off his shoulders."
Tanis grabbed the dwarf by the arm before he could bound through the door. "We can't just charge off like this. Do you even know where you're going or how to get there?"
"I'm going north," the dwarf blustered, "and I'll get there by putting one boot in front of the other, not by sitting here."
Tanis tried to reason with his friend. "This trip will take several days, Flint, maybe longer. We can't just charge off like this. We've been walking all night, we haven't eaten, and we have no supplies of any kind."
Flint slammed his fist into the doorjamb of the wagon. "I can't just sit idle, Tanis. This was important before, and it's doubly so now that we know there's sorcery involved." He closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought—dwarves had an innate distrust of all things magical. "Mind you," he said, looking out of the corner of his eyes, "I have a few choice words for any customer who just happens to forget to mention such things."
He set his jaw firmly, his expression resigned. "Still, I'm a man of my word. If this mysterious woman comes back and I haven't got the bracelet, her components, or even the money she advanced me, even a kender," he said with a glance toward a glowering Tasslehoff, "could see there'll be dishonor to my name. Now what do you propose I do?"
Tanis stood up, twisting his body forward slightly in the low-ceilinged wagon. "We'll go home, get a few hours' sleep, pick up food and clothing, and then start."
"No, we can't delay," the gruff dwarf said with a shake of his shaggy gray head. "I'll grant you we need supplies, but then we'll set out again immediately."
Now Tanis objected. "Flint, I'm exhausted! It's been a long night."
Flint pinched the tender flesh on Tanis's upper arm. "You've grown soft over winter," he chided his young friend. "Stay home and get your beauty sleep if you must," he said. "I'll be gone, however, before the morning sun crests the trees, with or without you."
Sighing, the half-elf adjusted his feathered headband, retying the leather thongs behind his head. "All right," he sighed, knowing full well he would never change the stubborn old adventurer's mind. "We'll do it your way."
"Fine." Flint's head bobbed once in satisfaction. "Get what you need and be at my house in twenty minutes."
With that, the short and tall figures scrambled out of the wagon and set off down the muddy lane at a trot.
Tasslehoff, still busy applying layer after layer of bandages to Gaesil's sore head, glanced impatiently around the wagon, looking for something with which to secure the cloth. Seeing nothing within reach, he finally snatched Gaesil's hand and slapped it onto the carefully folded wad of cloth covering his laceration. "Hold that here," Tas instructed briskly, then he leaped to his feet and sprang out the door after the rapidly disappearing companions.
"But wait!" cried Gaesil, reaching lamely after the kender. "What about me?" His voice trailed off, and then he was alone, except for Bella, who was mewling for her breakfast.
Tasslehoff caught up with Flint and Tanis about fifty yards down the road. "Boy, this is exciting," he chirped. A chase! What fun!"
Flint stopped dead in the road. "What makes you think you're coming? I didn't invite you, and I don't want you tagging along, so get lost."
But the tenacious kender had no intention of staying behind. "You need me. I have the maps of the north—I think."
Flint looked to Tanis for support, but found none. "If he's got maps, he could be a big help, Flint," said the half-elf.
"It was looking at his maps that got us into this trouble in the first place." The exasperated dwarf flung his arms in the air. "But fine, let him come. Let's invite everyone we meet. By the time we get to wherever we're going, we'll have a whole a
rmy. We can lay siege to the town. But let's do it now!" he shouted as he resumed his charge down the road.
Two steps later, Flint stopped again. "Wait a minute! What are we doing? I can't go home." A look of panic crossed his face. "If Selana's in town somewhere, she'll undoubtedly come by my house looking for me. I know it might sound cowardly, but I can't face her without the bracelet!" He looked sheepish. "I just want a chance to set things right first. You'll have to fetch my things, Tanis."
"But what if she sees me?" he objected.
"Back up that tinker's tale—tell her I was unexpectedly called out of town for a few days. Or tell her I was kidnapped. I don't care, tell her anything, just stall her off!"
Tanis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not going to lie to her, Flint. You know I'm no good at it anyway. We need a better story than this."
"Look, it's not a lie," pleaded Flint. "I am leaving town unexpectedly for a few days. I'll go right now and wait for you along the road, if that would make you feel better."
With a shrug, Tanis gave in. "With luck, I won't run into her and it'll never come up. I'll go, but you'll have to stop at my place and put together what I need," he said. "I'll meet you there when I'm finished." The lanky half-elf turned to leave, then added, "You'll find plenty of foodstuffs in the pantry—just don't pack any of those awful beans you like," he warned, shaking his finger at the rotund dwarf.
"I've never seen a dwarf's house," the kender, nearly forgotten, piped up. "I'll go with Tanis," he announced happily.
Flint turned on the scrappy little fellow and poked him in the chest. "Oh, no you don't," he said emphatically. "The last thing I need is a big-mouthed, sticky-fingered kender poking around in my house when I'm not there. That's how this whole mess started." He took the kender firmly by the elbow. "You'll come with me so I can keep an eye on you."
"Goodness, Flint," Tasslehoff huffed, his feelings obviously bruised, his wrinkled little face puckered into a large frown. "I'd think you, of all people, would understand that my smaller-than-average size doesn't make me a child."
Flint flushed bright red, and his head bobbed around as he tried to force some unaccustomed words from his lips. "Oh, all right, I'm sorry," he grumbled.
"That's OK," the kender said, with a kender's uncanny ability to shed sadness in the space of an eye blink. He brightened as a new thought struck him. "Say, do you dwarves have special little furniture for your homes, or do you hop up into human-sized chairs there, too?"
Flint nearly roared some favorite profanity at the kender but settled for a blistering glance and a shove toward the nearest staircase up into the vallenwood trees.
"Move!" he snapped. Flint glanced over his shoulder nervously. If Selana was still in town (and the way his luck was going, he had every reason to expect so), Flint hoped she would stay to the ground, as most visitors did not climb up to the bridgewalks. Even though the walks functioned as roadways and were considered public property in Solace, strangers tended to feel like they were intruding if they ascended, since the majority led to private homes.
"These swaying bridges are wonderful!" Tas exclaimed. "How do you build them up in the air like this?" He darted from one side of the bridgewalk to the other, throwing twigs over the edge and watching them pirouette to the ground.
"Stop that!" Flint said, barely resisting the temptation to slap the kender's hands like he would a child's. "You're going to hit someone with those sticks. That's why there's quite a large fine for littering on the walks."
Tas pulled his hands back and looked momentarily subdued. "So how do they build them?" he pressed again. "Stilts? In Kendermore, where I'm from, they stand in pyramids to change signs and that sort of thing, but this—" he swept his hand at the bridgewalk below his booted feet—"this would be far more difficult to build while standing on someone's shoulders."
The dwarf closed his eyes and set his teeth against the kender's incessant chatter. "They build them on the ground and then hang them afterward," he responded at last with forced patience. Within minutes, dwarf and kender were at the door to Tanis's house, where above them stretched the budding branches of the middle-aged vallenwood tree that supported the structure.
Tanis's home looked like most of the other tree-houses in Solace, except perhaps it was a bit smaller and more modestly appointed. With a grunt, Flint bent over and flipped up the seagrass mat beneath the door. "Damnation! What's that half-elf gone and done with his key now?"
"Are you looking for this?" Tasslehoff asked. Flint looked behind him and saw the kender with a notched key held aloft by his thumb and forefinger.
Flint scowled. "Give me that!" he said, snatching the key from the kender's hand. "Where did you get it?"
"Under the mat." Tasslehoff shook his head in disbelief. "Tanis really shouldn't keep his key where just anyone can find it. You never know who might help himself to his home." He wagged his finger at Flint. "It's a good thing I came along, you know."
Harrumphing, Flint slipped the key into the lock and gave the door a shove and the kender a yank. They stood in Tanis's cozy entryway, its outside wall cleverly carved into the vallenwood itself. Shafts of yellow sunlight puddled around their feet from small windows in the ceiling, which Tanis called skyloops, an elvish invention he brought with him from his childhood in Qualinesti.
Much of Tanis's home reflected his upbringing. There was a soothing, sylvan quality to its design, even apart from its placement in a vallenwood. Potted plants abounded. Like most houses in Solace, it had a common room, bed chamber, and kitchen. The hearth was the focal point in the common room, and around it were piled immense, fluffy feather pillows for sitting. In deference to his old dwarven friend, Flint, Tanis also had one sturdy chair. The only other furniture were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves carved into the nooks provided by the vallenwood that ran through the house. Tanis was an inveterate reader of anything and everything. He also collected rare, finely crafted bows, which he displayed on the wall opposite the hearth.
Flint saw the kender's eyes light up when they came upon the elven weapons. "Keep your hands to yourself," the dwarf cautioned. "If I see just one bowstring out of place, I'll—"
"You don't have to constantly threaten me," Tas interrupted wearily. "I won't touch anything."
Flint looked dubious. "It's taking, not touching, that I'm worried about."
"Why, I never—"
Flint held up a hand to silence the indignant kender. "I know, you've never stolen anything, and it's not your fault that the bracelet is missing," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Now, may we get on with collecting Tanis's things, so we can go find the bracelet that just mysteriously ended up in your possession not once but twice?"
"Be my guest." Tasslehoff waved Flint forward. "I must say, I'm glad to see that you're beginning to see my side in this thing."
Shaking his head incredulously, Flint stomped into Tanis's bedchamber and headed straight for the heavy wooden clothes chest at the bottom of the foot-high feather-stuffed ticking the half-elf used as a bed. He took out an undershirt, several pairs of hose, a tunic, two blankets, a woolen shirt, and heavy woolen socks. He quickly rolled the clothing inside the blankets, tied the two ends of the roll together with a leather thong, and slipped it over his shoulder.
Digging to the bottom of the chest, Flint found a large canvas sack and headed for the kitchen. As he passed the common room, Flint saw Tasslehoff quickly withdraw his hand from the bows.
"I was just looking!" He followed Flint to the kitchen.
The room was very small, really just a storeroom, or pantry, since the cooking was done in the hearth in the common room. The ceiling stretched up higher than in the other rooms, and vallenwood branches grew freely through holes poked and caulked in the side wall. Tanis utilized every available space with shelves. Smoked hams, bunches of dried herbs, bags of potatoes, squash, dried fruit, and garlic cloves hung from thick cords on dark beams. A small drop-leaf table folded down from a cupboard in the wall across from the
archway, with two cane-backed chairs tucked beneath it.
Working quickly, Flint grabbed a haunch of ham, an acorn squash, and two handfuls of dried apples and stuffed them into the sack. As he turned to leave, he spotted Tasslehoff inspecting several raisin buns from the local bakery, which Flint knew to be among Tanis's favorite foods. Though usually generous to a fault, Tanis could be downright possessive about his buns.
"Get away from those. We have what we need," growled the dwarf.
"I was just thinking," Tas mused. "We could be gone for several days. These buns are already a day or two old." He poked one to demonstrate, licking his finger afterward. "By the time we get back, they'll be too stale to eat. It just seems like a shame, that's all."
Flint glanced at the buns, then scowled at the kender, then looked back to the buns again. They were thick and shiny with glaze, and each had a star-shaped pattern laid out on top with raisins. Now Flint was staring at them, his empty stomach growling and churning after their all-night march. They did look quite tasty.
"Just one," mumbled Flint, grabbing a bun for himself. Half of it disappeared in the first enormous bite. With his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's and crumbs tumbling into his beard, he led the way back into Tanis's common room. Tasslehoff followed, popping raisins into his mouth.
Just as Flint raised the bun for a second bite, the door flew open and in strode Tanis. He carried a red-and-gray blanket, rolled lengthwise and slung over his shoulder. Bulges in the roll showed where other items were packed inside. Tanis lifted it over his head and dropped it onto the floor, saying, "You'll have to re-roll this, Flint. If I'd made it your size, I never could have slung it over my shoulder. Did you find everything we need?"
Flint tried to speak, but his voice was muffled by a mouthful of raisin bun. He nodded, crumbs tumbling from his beard.
[Meetings 02] - Wanderlust Page 9
