Wanderlust

by Mary Kirchoff

  “With pleasure!” Beaming, Tasslehoff looped his arm for her to take hold of, escorting the sea elf princess from the stump to a more secluded spot near a blooming crab tree. “Let’s continue our talk in private.” He sniffed over his shoulder for Tanis’s benefit.

  Flint and Tanis watched the two go.

  “Well, if that isn’t rich.” Tanis scowled after them. “I ask a few intelligent questions—defend her privacy, for gods’ sake—and I’m an impertinent jerk who doesn’t deserve to live.” The exasperated half-elf wagged his hand at the kender, who was happily seated next to the sea elf, engaged in conversation. “He openly insults her, and they become the greatest of friends. She probably finds his precociousness cute or something.”

  “Not jealous of a kender now, are you?” teased Flint, watching the half-elf out of the corner of his eye.

  “Certainly not!” huffed Tanis. “I’d just like to understand the rules, that’s all.”

  Still giving Selana a puzzled glance, Tanis set off in search of firewood. Feeling suddenly cold, he looked to the darkening sky and pulled down the sleeves of his deerskin jerkin for extra warmth. But the half-elf knew his chill had nothing to do with the weather.

  Dinner, served two hours later, was braised ham steak, more bread, and dried peas soaked in ham juice until moist, then heated through. Flint soaked up the last of the tasty gravy with his bread, popped it into his mouth, and downed it with one satisfied gulp. He leaned back against a boulder rolled near the fire, patted his full stomach, and belched contentedly.

  “Nobody can say you’re not a good cook, Tasslehoff,” he said. The dwarf locked his fingers behind his head. “Why doesn’t someone tell a story?”

  Tanis put up his hands. “You’ve heard all of mine a thousands times over.”

  “Selana knows a good one,” blurted Tas.

  The sea elf blushed. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want to hear it.” She was looking at Tanis.

  “Sure they would!” exclaimed Tas. “Tell her you want to hear it, Tanis!”

  Flint noticed the half-elf’s chagrined expression. “We’re interested in hearing anything about your people that you’re willing to tell us,” he said kindly.

  “I’m always intrigued to hear of other customs and cultures,” Tanis finally managed to say. He turned to the kender with a grin. “Since you’ve heard this story already, Tas, I vote it’s your turn to go find some wood for the fire.”

  “It’s dark beyond the firelight,” said Selana. “Here, take this, Tasslehoff.” She reached into the depths of her robe and withdrew a small, curved sea shell. “It’s a special conch shell. Hold it right here—” she placed Tasslehoff’s hand on the rounded edge “—and point it anywhere you need illumination.” Tas and the others were startled as muted yellow light poured from the opening in the shell.

  “Wow! How does it do that?” asked Tas. “Is that how everyone sees underwater?”

  “No, it’s my own invention,” the sea elf admitted vaguely.

  “You mean, it’s magical,” cut in Tanis. “You didn’t mention you were a mage.”

  “I am a spellcaster of some ability, yes,” admitted Selana. “You never asked. Besides, after your comment back in Solace, I thought it might make Flint uncomfortable.”

  “You thought he might not let you go with us!”

  “I don’t believe he let me go, anyway,” she said evenly. “I told him I’d go with or without him.”

  “Would you both stop talking about me as if I weren’t here?” interrupted Flint. “I’ll admit, Tanis, I don’t care much for magic, but it hasn’t caused any problems yet.”

  “And it won’t,” Selana stated firmly. “In fact, I was wondering how I would bring the subject up, but I cast a locate object spell earlier over Tasslehoff’s map and have determined that the bracelet is in the village called Tantallon. That should speed things up for us.”

  Flint and Tanis exchanged looks. That was good news—Tantallon wasn’t far away. They could find their way there with or without Tasslehoff’s maps. But magic made them nervous, and both remained silent.

  Anxious to change the subject, Selana turned to the kender. Fascinated by the shell light, Tas was busy turning it on and off by shifting his grip.

  “If you run into any trouble, Tasslehoff,” Selana said, “just blow into the shell.” The sea elf demonstrated by pressing her lips to the shell. Curious, Tas imitated her pose and let loose a great burst of air.

  “That’s terrific!” the happy kender crowed. “It sounds just like a trumpet!” He moved to blow it again, but Flint’s hand pulled the shell from his lips.

  “Remember, Tasslehoff, you’re only to blow it if you’re in trouble. And, believe me, you’ll need help if I catch you tooting it for pleasure.” The dwarf wasn’t sure his warning sank in, for the kender, happy as a bumblebee, headed for the thicket of trees just beyond the fire’s glow to gather wood and test the light’s range.

  Tanis settled back and tried to get comfortable. “You have an interesting name, Princess. What do those honorifics mean, ‘Shark Chaser’ and ‘Moonbeam Laughter’?”

  Selana looked at Tanis intently for just a moment, as if deciding whether his question was sincere or some kind of trick.

  “Every Dargonesti child receives two special names, what you called honorifics, one from his mother and the other from his father. Only members of the family use them, though everyone knows them.

  “Moonbeam Laughter is my mother-name, and a fairly common one. On bright nights, moonbeams filtering down through the waves delight small children, who chase them to and fro until their parents send them off to sleep.

  “Shark Chaser is my father-name. He gave it to me when I was fourteen, and I am very proud of it.”

  Warming to the subject, Selana began to relax. “The Day of Redemption,” she continued, “is a very important holiday to my people. It commemorates the day when Nakaro Silverwake, one of our greatest heroes, completed his quest to recover the lost sword, Tideripper. This was the weapon of Drudarch Takalurion, the founder of our nation and the very first Speaker of the Moons. Nakaro had to travel far into the realm of the koalinths and lacedons—the fish-goblins and sea ghouls—and face many terrors to recover the lost sword. Every year we celebrate this great day with feasts and excursions.

  “When I was fourteen, to commemorate the Day of Redemption, my family traveled to Armach uQuoob, ‘the Dry Land in the Sea.’ Your ancestors knew this city as Hoorward, which was on the island of Kosketh Minor, before the Cataclysm sank it into the ocean. In long ago days it served as our capital, but in my childhood it was an outpost, on the frontier of our lands. There we kept watch against the evil sea creatures who would invade our realm: koalinths, lacedons, and their allies, the scrags, octopuses, and sharks. You who live on land assume these are nothing more than animals, but you are mistaken. In the deeps of the oceans they are intelligent and cunning, and in their dark caves and sunken ruins they plot against my people in languages of their own.”

  During this discourse, Tasslehoff had returned bearing an armload of wood, shining the light through the trees and playfully putting the horn to his lips. He dumped the wood unceremoniously to the ground and plopped down on a log beside Flint. He drew his knees up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, “I’m listening.”

  The fire crackled and spit sparks into the air as Selana resumed her tale of the sea. “On this Day of Redemption, we assembled in the sand plain outside the city for ceremonies and festivities. I was to sit at my father’s side on the coral sled as he greeted the citizens. But when the time came, I was nowhere to be found. My father could not delay the ceremony, though he was furious with my irresponsibility. He dispatched the captain of his bodyguard to search for me.”

  Wide-eyed, Tas blurted, “Where were you? I bet you were in danger!”

  Selana smiled wistfully. “Yes, but not so much as my cousin, Trudarqq
uo. He was only eight years old and had wandered off before the ceremony. My aunt, sister of my father, was distraught and sought my help in finding him. This was some hours before the ceremony was scheduled. We searched widely for him in the coral shelves where he had been playing, but found nothing. On a hunch, I swam back to the city, to a deserted region where we were forbidden to go. Like children everywhere, of course, young Dargonesti are drawn to such prohibited places. And there I found him, exploring and playing at being Nakaro Silverwake on his epic quest.”

  Almost in spite of himself, Tanis was being drawn into her tale. Selana reminded him much of Laurana, the daughter of the Speaker of the Sun, with whom he’d been raised. There was genuine warmth in her, behind the haughty, selfish demeanor.

  “By this time, I knew the ceremonies had begun, and that I would be scolded by my father. We hurried to return, but as we passed an abandoned building, I smelled the unmistakable odor of sharks, our mortal enemies. I peeked into the building and saw there three great white monsters, gathering no doubt to waylay and kill some Dargonesti and stain our holiday. But they had spotted Trudarqquo as well, and burst from their cover bent on killing.

  “With their awful teeth slashing and their massive tails pumping the waves, they thrashed through the water after the terrified child. They hadn’t seen me, and that gave me a tremendous advantage. With my most powerful spell, I created six images of myself and surrounded the creatures with them. I made myself look as ferocious as possible and moved as if to attack them. Thinking themselves outnumbered, the sharks fled—directly toward the celebration!

  “I chased them the whole way, and when they burst into the festival ground, pandemonium ensued. My people are not warlike, and the sharks, in their frenzy, dove into the crowd for cover. Fortunately, my father’s bodyguard is very well trained, and they immediately closed in. Within minutes the sharks were driven away from the crowd and killed. No one was seriously hurt.

  “With the bodies of our enemies dragged away to the kitchens, my father resumed the ceremony with me at his side. During his address, he publicly proclaimed me ‘Shark Chaser.’ It was the proudest moment of my young life.”

  “Wow, what a story! Can’t you just see it, Tanis?” Tasslehoff nearly burst with excitement. “Sharks thrashing through the crowd as the soldiers close in, images of Selana darting everywhere. That would have been something to see.”

  “It certainly would, Tas,” agreed Tanis, stretching his limbs. “You’re quite the adventuress, Princess.”

  Though it was hard to tell in the flickering firelight, and all the harder because of Selana’s fair complexion, Tanis thought he saw the sea elf princess blush. “Life beneath the sea is beautiful and majestic, but often harsh as well.”

  There was a brief, almost awkward silence, then Tanis volunteered, “I’ll keep first watch.” The night was warm, but a gentle spring breeze, blowing from the still snow-covered mountains to the east, gave a slight chill to the air. Tas climbed into the low limbs of an aspen tree and fell fast asleep inside his furry vest, hugging his hoopak. Flint curled up before the fire, his shaggy head on a mossy rock, cap pulled over his eyes. Selana turned her back to everyone, drew her cape about her, and slept in a protective cross-legged position that looked downright uncomfortable. Tanis pulled his blankets around his shoulders and settled in for the watch.

  The moon was nearly overhead two hours later when Tanis tossed a handful of pebbles up into the tree to wake the kender. Tas sputtered awake and slipped good-naturedly from the tree to take his turn standing watch over the group.

  Two hours after that, Flint awoke less cheerfully, and the remainder of the night passed uneventfully.

  Little was said during the morning march. It seemed to Tanis that Selana was even more withdrawn than before. He had hoped that telling her tale last night would make her feel more a part of the group, but she seemed less inclined to share anything, as if she were embarrassed by her self-revelation. While he knew the endless walking was very tiring for her, the half-elf found her snooty attitude annoying.

  When they paused for lunch, Selana settled herself wordlessly several yards from the group.

  “Excuse me, Princess,” Tanis called stiffly, “but do you think you could rouse yourself and fetch some water for our lunch?”

  “If there’s one thing I know, it’s water,” she retorted. Glowering, she snatched the small pan from his hand and half stomped, half limped toward the sound of rushing water.

  Flint put a hand on the half-elf’s forearm. Gray eyes probed the young elf’s troubled face. “What’s gotten into you, Tanis? You don’t usually have such trouble getting along with people. You’ve been downright rude to the princess on several occasions.”

  Tanis shook his head. “I know, Flint, but sometimes she reminds me so much of Laurana and her stuck-up, royal ways.” Laurana, Flint knew, was the daughter of Tanis’s guardian, Solostaran. Her selfish love for Tanis had caused the trouble that made him leave his native Qualinost. “After so many years, I’m surprised that type of woman can still make me angry.” He rubbed his face wearily.

  “Someday you’ll resolve your differences with Laurana,” predicted Flint. “Selana and Laurana do have a great deal in common, not the least of which is an aristocratic elven upbringing,” he agreed. “But don’t punish one for the other’s mistakes.”

  Lunch was assembled and waiting twenty minutes later, but Selana had not returned. After another twenty minutes, Tanis was irritated, but the elder dwarf was growing concerned.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Flint,” said Tanis. “She’d give a blast on the conch shell if she weren’t.”

  Working on his maps in the warmth of the sun, Tasslehoff’s head snapped up. “Uh, she probably would if she had it. I meant to give it back last night, really I did, but then we all fell asleep and it slipped my mind. I’ll give it back first thing when I see her.”

  “If any of us ever sees her again,” muttered Flint, frantically scouring the landscape with his eyes. “It doesn’t take this long to get water. Come on, we’ve got to look for her.”

  “She probably got near the stream and just couldn’t resist taking a swim,” Tanis suggested reasonably, trying to quell his own growing concern. He trotted over the uneven, hilly turf next to Flint and Tasslehoff as they followed the sound of running water. “Haven’t you noticed the way she’s been splashing her face with water from her wineskin?

  They pressed through some prickly shrubs and burst upon the stream bank. Selana was nowhere to be seen.

  “Maybe she came upon the creek at a different point,” suggested Flint. Without being asked, Tasslehoff ran some distance down the stream to the right, Tanis to the left. They rejoined Flint but could report nothing.

  The dwarf was on one knee, examining the marshy ground near the stream. “Look at these,” he said, pointing. “Here are footprints the size of Selana’s.”

  “What are those?” Tas asked, directing their gaze to a confusion of animal prints surrounding hers. “They look cloven hoofed.” He glanced up, puzzled. “Goats? Selana ran off with a herd of goats?”

  Flint and Tanis’s glances met and locked knowingly. “Not goats. Satyrs. They like elves and women and, especially, elven women.”

  Instantly, off in the near distance could be heard the melancholy wailing of reed pipes. Tanis tried to issue a warning, to clap his hands over his own ears, but the gesture came too late. He had heard the tune of a satyr pipe and was instantly charmed.

  “What’s that exquisite melody, and where is it coming from?” asked the bewitched half-elf, his eyes glazed over.

  Smiling serenely, his keen dwarven ears cocked, Flint pointed his thick finger to a grove of aspen trees downstream along the river’s edge. “I believe the music is coming from over there.”

  “Let’s go!” hollered Tasslehoff happily, leading the way as the three companions skipped like children over the awakening landscape toward the plaintive sound of the pipes. Shrieking with delight,
Tasslehoff plucked a milkweed pod and blew the silky down into Flint’s face. Giggling, the red-faced dwarf gave Tas a playful shove that sent him tumbling in a merry ball down the slope. Head thrown back in laughter, Tanis scooped up the hapless kender and tossed him onto his broad shoulders.

  They all pressed on toward the grove.

  Stumbling through the ring of trees, they spotted Selana, her robe thrown open, revealing a tight tunic that came past her knees. Head thrown back joyously, she was dancing a jig in the center of a circle of six goat-men. One of them poured a mixture of white and red wine into her open mouth, which she gulped happily.

  Spotting the companions, the wild and frolicking half-man, half-goats waved them forward with their human arms, kicking up their hooves. In moments, the three travelers joined in the revelry, linking arms with their hosts and capering through the woods.

  “Tasslehoff, Flint, Tanis, my good friends!” cried Selana, drawing them all up in a heartening embrace. She waved her hand to include the satyrs. “Meet my new friends, Enfield, Bomaris, Gillam, Pendenis, Kel, and Monaghan! Isn’t their music enchanting?” she asked, her expression dreamy. “Play that little welcoming ditty again,” she pleaded.

  “Anything for you, dear Princess,” rumbled the satyr named Enfield, his voice a beautiful bass. As one, the gathering of six goat-men tilted their short-horned heads and pressed wooden pipes to their lips. A lilting jig issued forth.

  Happily entranced, Flint snatched a proffered jug of wine and raised it on his arm, smacking his stained lips as the rosy liquid dribbled through his beard. He passed the jug to Tanis, who sent it along to Tas.

  Pendenis clapped the kender’s small shoulder. “Life is too short to be serious, eh, little friend? Come, climb upon my back, and I will show you the merriment that awaits us in the heart of the woods.”

  “Let’s all go!” cried Flint, swinging himself onto Kel’s back. Although he was usually suspicious of riding any beast, at that moment the dwarf could not imagine a more lively mode of travel. Ducking, Gillam charged Tanis playfully from behind and tossed the laughing half-elf onto his goat posterior. Selana, astride Enfield, led the way.