Scowarr frowned; his audience was distracted. "What is it?" he asked the intruder. "Is there trouble?"
"Magic-users!" cried the elder, blue eyes flashing under a shock of white-blond hair. "One of our spies has come back from the human encampment. He says they have wizards to aid them tomorrow. We must find Kishpa!"
Unwilling to yield his place of honor, Scowarr boldly shouted, "If the mage must be found, then I will help you find him!" Then he knelt and softly asked, "Does anybody know where he could be? Any idea at all?"
"Some say he used his magic to turn into a field of shimmerweeds," a young, wide-eyed villager said.
Scowarr hated to show his ignorance, but he asked the question anyway. "Why would he do that?"
Another villager laughed. "Is this another joke7"
"No. Really," Scowarr protested, keeping his voice low. The elves closest to the table were beginning to exchange amazed glances, and the comedian was loath to tarnish the newfound shine on his reputation.
"You don't know what a shimmerweed is?" the same villager asked, surprised. When Scowarr shook his head, the elf went on. "It blooms only at night, getting the only light it needs from the moonlight. But when the petals catch the light just so, the shimmerweed blinds anyone nearby and causes him great confusion."
"Oh," said Scowarr, sagely nodding his head. "That shimmerweed. I knew that. So Kishpa is surrounding the human encampment, keeping them from attacking us during the night? Is that what you're trying to say?"
"That's what I heard."
Another villager interjected, 'That's not what I heard." He edged in front of the first speaker and said, "My uncle told me that someone saw Kishpa become invisible so that he could walk among the humans, undetected, and learn their plans of war."
Other elves murmured and added their conjectures.
"We're wasting time," complained the village elder who had sounded the warning. He forced his way toward the center of the room where Scowarr held sway.
"These are just rumors, idle talk, foolish gossip. It isn't like Kishpa to disappear without a trace. Even his human lover, Brandella, has vanished. But Kishpa must be found and told of this new threat. Without his help, the humans will drive us into the Straits of Algoni." "Brandella didn't vanish," piped up an elf from the back of the room. "I saw her just a short while ago, hurrying down toward the fishing boats."
"She was alone?" asked the elder.
"No, she was with the dwarf, Mertwig, but it was odd. They seemed to be hiding in the shadows."
"To the fishing boats!" ordered Scowarr, relishing the ring of his commanding baritone. Even more pleasing to him was the reaction of the elves. They did as he said!
"Do you hear something?" Mertwig asked from his perch near his wife's bed.
"Someone's out there," Tanis agreed from the back of the room, hearing the faint sound of a voice on the wind. He turned to Reehsha, who had moved from the bench to the window and pulled aside the fishnets that served as curtains.
"Can you see anything?"
"It's a mob!" the old fisherman replied, visibly startled. "I can't tell how big, but there look to be at least fifty torches lighting the far side of the pier, where the fishing boats are moored."
"What are they doing?" Brandella asked in a whisper. Tanis went to the window to see for himself. He grimaced.
"They seem to have a purpose. It looks like they're looking for something-"
"Or someone," Brandella interrupted, staring down at Kishpa, who lay unaware beside her. One hand continued to stroke the wizard's brow.
'Trouble!" Reehsha suddenly blurted.
"What is it?" Mertwig and Brandella asked together.
'They're coming this way," said Tanis, trying not to alarm the woman who cared so deeply for her mage. Her hand went to her throat.
"They must not know!" she protested. 'They'll lose hope. Don't let them inside!"
"We may not have a choice," said Tanis. Brandella rose and lunged across the room toward the half-elf. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. Her closeness nearly unnerved him. Kit was a beauty, and Laurana the epitome of young, elven loveliness, but Brandella's very essence was heart-shattering. At her touch, he felt himself go as red as his glowing sword.
"You said he'd recover," she said. "You said he'd live. Think now of all those who will die if Ankatavaka's people panic."
Brandella's skin was as delicate as porcelain above the black shirt and the loose green skirt, both obvious products of her loom. Tanis felt his blushing creep inexorably to his hairline. The young weaver appeared unaware of the effect she was having on him, however.
"There's no place to run," she continued. "A few may survive by taking to the fishing boats, but the rest will be slaughtered if our defenses crumble. I beg you; stall for time! Don't let them know the truth. If the villagers fight, they have a chance. If they run, they'll die. You're a warrior. You know what I say is true."
The woman's beauty was almost more than he could bear. The warmth of her hands, the scent of her hair and skin, the perfection of every feature, all made Tanis's mouth go dry. Yet there was more to her than the appeal of her flesh. There was the same energy and passion that had drawn him to Kitiara. Without, he hoped, the all- too-human yearning for power.
"I will do what I can," Tanis promised.
"You are a worthy man," she said simply, looking up into his blushing face.
He wanted to ask her if he was worthy of her, but he refrained. Nonetheless, he found himself unwilling to let go of her hands. A moment passed. Was it his imagination, or did she seem reluctant to let go, too?
'They're getting closer," Reehsha announced.
Tanis freed her hands. Brandella gave him a shy smile.
A moment later, Tanis opened the door, stepped outside, and with fingers gripping the handle of his sword in its scabbard, he faced the oncoming mob.
15
In search of the Mage
"Look!" cried an elf, apparently tired of tnomping around in the wet sand near the fishing boats. "There's a light in Reehsha's window!" "Maybe he's seen Brandella and Mertwig," suggested another elf. "Let's go ask him." A murmur of assent went up among the elves, who numbered almost one hundred, and Scowarr was quick to jump out in front of the crowd, shouting, "We won't rest until we find Kishpa!" It wasn't all bravado on Scowarr's part. He enjoyed the role, playing the hero to the hilt, but he also was worried about the mage. After all, Kishpa had saved his life on the seacliff, and the human was not unmindful of his debt. If Kishpa needed rescuing, Scowarr was willing to do his part. He even thought he was capable of it.
The torches blazed, lighting the way across the beach for the anxious elves and their temporary leader. The waves crashed at their feet, reflecting the torches' glow.
When the searchers climbed the rocks toward Reeh- sha's shack, Scowarr felt his legs and arms aching. Exhaustion was catching up with him, but he refused to give in to it. He wanted to be a hero again-and that meant finding Kishpa.
As Scowarr led the crowd toward the shack, the door to the crumbling old building suddenly swung ajar. Golden light illuminated the darkness, and the silhouette of a fighting man, strong and straight, walked into the shimmering aura and waited.
Tanis decided to keep the door to Reehsha's shack open. Closing it behind him would have suggested that he was trying to keep the crowd from entering. Rather, he reasoned, let it appear as if he had nothing to hide from them.
As they got closer, Tanis stared in disbelief at the sight before his eyes. "Is that you, Little Shoulders?" he called out.
"It isn't Huma of the Lance."
There was some appreciative laughter from the elves behind the funny man. Tanis, however, said nothing.
"Well," said Scowarr with gentle sarcasm, "based upon your hearty laughter at my little joke, I now know for certain that the image before my eyes is that of my dear, ever-so-humorless friend, Tanis." At this, the half-elf proffered a small grin.
"Of course, I could be m
istaken," Scowarr went on, hope playing on his thin features.
"You were right the first time," said Tanis with a hint of playfulness. Yet when the torches from the mob had come close enough, Scowarr could see the hard expression on the half-elf's face. "I was worried about you," said Scowarr, the elves behind him suddenly quiet and patient. "I haven't seen you since the battle. I feared something had happened to you." "Not to me. You passed out, and I left you with friends. Or should I say admirers?" "Good friends," the funny man said emphatically, waving an arm at the elves crowding close behind him. "So I see," Tanis said. "But what are you all doing here when you should be resting for the battle that is sure to come at daybreak?" "We've come in search of Kishpa," said Scowarr. "If I see him," Tanis said shortly, "I'll tell him." "Where's Reehsha?" demanded someone from the back of the mob. "What are you doing in his house?". "A woman was attacked under the pier," explained Tanis. "A human soldier did it. I brought her here." "Did he kill her?" a shrill voice asked. "No. But she was hurt." "Yes, but where's Reehsha?" insisted the elf at the back of the mob. "I am here," the old fisherman called gruffly from the window. "Now leave us be." "Who is she? Who got hurt?" several curious elves asked at once. Tanis didn't answer them. Instead, he reached out and touched Scowarr's shoulder, noticing the new clothes but saying only, "Remember the dwarven woman who tried to help us at the seacliff?" "Of course… oh… not her?" Tanis nodded. Scowarr wearily rubbed his eyes. "I feel terrible," he said to no one in particular. "Just terrible." "Shell be all right," said Tanis. "What's her name?" someone called out. "Yeblidod," Tanis answered without thinking, and then a moment later realized the enormity of his mistake.
"She's Mertwig's wife!" several elves exclaimed at once.
A stocky elf, holding a torch and standing behind Scowarr, shouted, "This must have been where Mertwig was going with Brandella. And if Brandella is in there, I'll wager Kishpa's there, too!" The elf rushed forward, trying to push past Tanis and into the shack. The half-elf grabbed him, accidentally knocking the burning torch out of the elf's hand. The torch soared over the rocks onto the beach, and the damp sand extinguished it with a sizzle.
"You can't go in there," Tanis said sternly.
"Who are you to stop me?" The speaker displayed a belligerence more typical of humans than elves, Tanis thought.
"Someone who cares for Yeblidod," he said simply. "She's sleeping now and should not be disturbed."
"I don't know you," the villager shot back. "For all I know, you attacked the poor woman and-"
Before he could finish the thought, Tanis leaped at the elf with a savage cry. He went straight for the elf's throat with his bare hands. In a mad scramble to try to stop him, it took six elves to pull Tanis away from his nearly strangled victim.
The elves had thrown Tanis to the ground and were preparing to beat him into senselessness when Scowarr shouted, "Stop! He's my friend!"
Reluctantly, the elves did as their hero commanded. Tanis stared at Scowarr as the half-elf rose to a sitting position on the hard ground.
The funny man gave him a crooked smile in return. "What can I say7 They like me."
Tanis smiled in return. He was glad they did.
"You know," said Scowarr, "the one thing you can get without a lot of trouble is a lot of trouble."
Many of the elves laughed at his cleverness. Tanis merely nodded. For his part, Scowarr shook his head with resignation. He leaned down close to Tanis and complained, "You are the most difficult audience I've ever had." "What about all those arrows?" Tanis reminded him. "Second most difficult audience," the funny man amended. While they were still close, Tanis took his chance. In a low but insistent voice, the half-elf whispered, "Get them away from here." Scowarr looked at his friend with a questioning glance. He didn't know who or what Tanis was really hiding in that shack, but there was no question in the funny man's mind that something strange was going on. He was very curious about the game the half-elf was playing. Scowarr pursed his lips as he stepped away from Tanis and considered his options. He wondered if the villagers would heap still more glory on his little shoulders if he discovered whatever Tanis didn't want found. He also wondered what Tanis would do to him if he betrayed the half-elf's trust. The lure of glory was strong, but Scowarr didn't want to be a dead hero. Besides, he had done rather well for himself by following Tanis's lead. He decided to do it again and hope for the best. "Come, fellow soldiers," Scowarr announced. "We're wasting our time here. The dawn will break soon, and let us not break with it. We must be ready to fight the humans with or without Kishpa. Are we not brave?" "We are bravel" the mob cried out, stoking their own courage. "Are we not strong7" His voice rose several notes. "We are strong!" "Are we not ready7" Scowarr raised a fist on the last word. "We are ready!" 'Then let us prepare to fight." He paused, then, 'To the barricades!" 'To the barricades!"
A great cheer went up, and the mob quickly scrambled down the rocky path toward the beach. Scowarr marveled at the effect he'd had on these elves. He almost- but not quite-hoped that he would die this day so that he would never have to face his ordinary life again when the praise and honor stopped. He lingered behind as his followers hurried away.
"You did well," said Tanis gratefully when they were alone. "You have my thanks."
Little Shoulders bowed his head in acknowledgment. "It was my pleasure to help you. But there's just one thing."
"Yes?"
"You must tell me what's going on," Scowarr pleaded. "Why wouldn't you let anyone in the shack?"
Tanis was about to tell him when a figure crossed in front of the doorway behind them, blocking the light. Scowarr squinted to see who stood there as Tanis turned to look, too.
"I'm glad I saved your lives," Kishpa said weakly from the doorway, the light streaming out into the night from behind him. "I seem to have made the right choice."
16
To keep a promise
A beautiful woman appeared next to Kishpa, the light throwing mysterious shadows across her magnificent face, partially hidden by her cloud of black curls. She held one of the mage's arms to keep him from teetering on his unsteady legs. Scowarr was delighted to have found Kishpa, but he was overwhelmed by Brandella. "Who is she?" he whispered to Tanis. "A woman who will not be forgotten," the half-elf replied. "Huh?" "Never mind." Then, aloud to the mage, Tanis said, "I assured Reehsha and Brandella that you would recover."
The wizard narrowed his eyes. "So they said. Did you know, or were you merely guessing?"
"Does it matter, as long as I was right?"
"Perhaps it does," Kishpa said thoughtfully. "But there is no time now to ponder the question. Come in, both of you, and tell me what is going on in Ankatavaka. I must know everything."
Tanis and Scowarr started for the door, but a shouted warning from the direction of the village caught their attention. They all turned to see what the trouble was. The mob that had followed Scowarr had apparently flushed one of the human soldiers out of hiding and was pursuing him. Kishpa, like the half-elf, could make out that much with elvensight, although they both doubted that Scowarr and Brandella could catch much detail. Tanis saw that the soldier was big, his long legs giving him a loping stride.
Tanis tried to focus on the man's face. The distance and the darkness, however, proved to be too great. Yet the human was the right size, and he had been spotted near the beach. It might be him, Tanis thought. It might be my father. Without another thought, the half-elf bolted in the direction of the human.
Brandella would have to wait. Old Kishpa would have to wait. Everything would have to wait until Tanis kept the promise that he had made to Yeblidod-and to himself.
"Where are you going?" shouted Scowarr.
Tanis didn't answer.
The others at Reehsha's shack shrugged and headed into the cabin. All, that is, except Brandella, who lingered in the night air watching Tanis recede into the darkness.
While Reehsha went to tend his boat and Scowarr slept huddled on the floor, Mertwig paced, trying to dec
ide how to ask Kishpa for help. He wanted to give his wife a beautiful, delicate glass ball that the famous Pikla- ker had created. Unfortunately, the price was far beyond his means. But if Kishpa would merely vouch for him, the artist would be honor-bound to let him buy it.
Mertwig was a proud dwarf. Asking favors did not come easily. Finally, though, he managed to ask, "How long have you known me, Kishpa?"
Kishpa, resting on the wooden bench by the door, his red robes pulled around him against the cabin's chill, raised an eyebrow. "My whole life," conceded the mage. "You know that. Why do you ask me such a question?"
Mertwig drew a breath, made a decision, and plunged on. "Because I need you to speak on my behalf."
'To whom7" the mage asked warily.
'To Piklaker." The dwarf tried to look resolved, but his weak chin failed him. It wobbled with his nervousness.
"I heard you were eyeing his wares," said the wizard dubiously. "You really shouldn't-"
"No lectures!" interrupted the dwarf with sudden temper. "I simply want you to tell the artist that I'm good for the price of a certain glass trinket." He spun away from the mage, crossing his short arms before his chest. 'There, I said it."
'That 'trinket,' " the mage said sarcastically, "is worth more than what you earn in a year."
Mertwig turned back. "So what? It has value. I can always sell it later if I can't pay for it. Besides, I'm not asking you to buy it for me, I'm just asking you to tell Piklaker that you vouch for me." His voice took on a pleading tone. "If you do that, old friend, he'll let me have it." Mertwig saw Kishpa glance at Brandella, looking for her guidance. She nodded. Mertwig knew that Brandella didn't consider it her business, or Kishpa's, to decide what was right or wrong. The mage's duty, the weaver would feel, wasn't to judge his friends but to give them what he could and let them make their own choices; if Mertwig wanted to put himself into debt for his wife, then that was his decision. As long as he wasn't asking Kishpa to foot the bill, she would see no harm in what Mertwig was suggesting, the dwarf knew. But Kishpa would likely have a different view, Mertwig worried. He wished he'd never embarked on this conversation.
Tanis the shadow years p2-3 Page 9
