Every person who entered the city was being questioned by the guards. Pouches were searched. Wagons were searched. If the wagon carried goods, the goods were examined by the guards, who loosened bags, pried up the tops of crates, and poked pitchforks into loads of hay. Once he was familiar with the rules, fully intending to comply with them, Tasslehoff took his place at the very end of the line.
“Hullo, how are you?” he said to a large matronly woman carrying an enormous basket of apples, who was gossiping with another large woman, carrying a basket of eggs. “My name is Tasslehoff Burrfoot. My, this is a long line. Is there any other way in?”
The two turned around to look at him. Both scowled at him fiercely, and one actually shook her fist at him.
“Keep away from me, you little vermin. You’re wasting your time. Kender aren’t allowed inside the city.”
“What a very unfriendly place,” Tasslehoff observed and walked off.
He did not go far, however, but sat down in the shade of a tree near the front entrance to enjoy his apple. As he ate, he observed that while no kender could be seen entering the city, two were seen leaving it, accompanied by city guards.
Tas waited until the kender had picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and gathered up their pouches. Then he began to wave and shout. Pleased as always to see a fellow kender, the two came running over to greet him.
“Leafwort Thumbfloggin,” said one, extending his hand.
“Merribell Hartshorn,” said the other, extending her hand.
“Tasslehoff Burrfoot,” said Tas.
“No, really?” said Merribell, highly pleased. “Why I met you just last week. You don’t look the same though. Are you doing something different with your hair?”
“What have you got in your pouches?” asked Leafwort.
In the ensuing excitement of answering that interesting question, followed by Tas’s asking them what they had in their pouches and a general round of pouch-dumping and object-trading, Tas explained that he wasn’t one of the innumerable Tasslehoffs wandering about Ansalon, he was the original. He was particularly proud to show off the pieces of the Device of Time Journeying, complete with the story of how he and Caramon had used it to travel back to the past and how it had taken him inadvertently to the Abyss and how it had brought him forward to a future that wasn’t this future but some other.
The two kender were impressed and quite happy to trade their most valuable objects for pieces of the device. Tas watched the pieces vanish into their pouches without much hope that they would stay there. Still it was worth a shot. Finally, when everything had been traded that could possibly be traded and all the stories told that could possibly be told, he told them why he was in Solanthus.
“I’m on a quest,” Tas announced, and the other two kender appeared quite respectful. “I’m searching for a Solamnic Knight.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” said Leafwort, jerking a thumb behind him at the city walls. “There’re more Knights in there than you can shake a stick at.”
“What do you plan on doing once you’ve got one?” Merribell wondered. “They don’t look like they’d be much fun to me.”
“I’m searching for a specific Knight,” Tas explained. “I had him once, you see, but I lost him, and I was hoping he might have come here, this being a place where Knights tend to congregate, or so I’ve heard. He’s about so high”—Tas jumped to his feet, stood on his tiptoes and raised his arm—“and he’s extremely ugly, even for a human, and he has hair the color of Tika’s corn bread muffins.”
The two kender shook their heads. They’d seen lots of Knights—they described several—but Tas didn’t have any use for them.
“I have to find my own,” he said, squatting down comfortably again. “He and I are great friends. I guess I’ll just go look for myself. These ladies told me—I say, would anyone care for an apple? Anyhow two ladies told me that kender aren’t allowed inside Solanthus.”
“That’s not true. They’re really quite fond of kender in Solanthus,” Merribell assured him.
“They just have to say that to keep up appearances,” added Leafwort.
“They don’t put kender in jail in Solanthus,” Merribell continued enthusiastically. “Imagine that! The moment they catch—er—find you, they give you an armed escort through the town—”
“—so that you can see all the sights—”
“—and they throw you out the front gate. Just like a regular person.”
Tasslehoff agreed that Solanthus sounded like a wonderful place. All he had to do was to find a way inside. His new friends provided him with several entrances that were not known to the general public, adding that it was best to have an alternate route in case the first he tried happened to have been shut down by the guards.
Bidding good-bye to his new friends, Tas went off to try his luck. The number-two location worked extraordinarily well (we have been asked not to reveal it) and after only an hour’s work, Tasslehoff entered the city of Solanthus. He was hot and sweaty, grimy and torn, but all his pouches were intact and that, of course, was of paramount importance.
Fascinated by the immensity of the city, as well as by the large numbers of people, he wandered the streets until his feet were sore and the apples he’d had for lunch were just a distant memory. He saw lots of Knights, but none who resembled Gerard. Tas might have stopped to question a few, but he was afraid that they might treat him in the friendly fashion the other two kender had described, and while he would have liked to have been shown the sights of the city by armed guards and nothing would have made him happier than to be tossed bodily out the front gate, he was forced to put aside such pleasures in the more serious pursuit of his quest.
It was about sunset when Tas began to grow seriously annoyed with Gerard. Having decided that the Knight should be in Solanthus, the fact that he was not where he was supposed to be was highly provoking. Tired of tramping up and down the streets in search of him, weary of dodging city guards (fun at the beginning but old after awhile), Tas decided grumpily that he would sit down and let Gerard find him for a change. Tas planted himself in the shadows of a large statue near a fountain close to the main entrance on the main street, figuring that he would watch everyone coming in and out and that Gerard would be bound to find him eventually.
He was sitting with his chin in hand, trying to decide which inn he was going favor with his presence for dinner when he saw someone he knew enter the front gate. It wasn’t Gerard, but someone even better. Tasslehoff jumped to his feet with a glad cry.
“Goldmoon!” he shouted, waving.
Respectful of Goldmoon’s white robes that marked her a Mystic of the Citadel of Light, one of the city guards was providing her a personal escort into the city. He pointed in a certain direction. She nodded and thanked him. He touched his forehead to her, then returned to his duties. A small and dust-covered figure trotted along at Goldmoon’s heels, hard-pressed to keep up with her long strides. Tas didn’t pay much attention to this other person. He was so glad and so thankful to see Goldmoon that he didn’t notice anyone else, and he forgot all about Gerard. If anyone could save him from Dalamar and Palin, it was Goldmoon.
Tas raced across the crowded highway. Bumping into people, and nimbly avoiding the long arm and grasping hands of the law, Tasslehoff was about to greet Goldmoon with his usual hug when he stopped short.
She was Goldmoon, but she wasn’t. She was still in the youthful body that had been so detestable to her. She was still beautiful, with her shining silver-gold hair and her lovely eyes, but the hair was straggly and uncombed, and the eyes had a vague and distant look about them, as if she wasn’t seeing anything close to her but was staring at something very far away. Her white robes were mud-stained, the hem frayed. She seemed tired to the point of falling, but she walked on determinedly, using a wooden staff to aid her steps. The small, dusty person kept up with her.
“Goldmoon?” Tasslehoff said, uncertain.
She did n
ot pause, but she did glance down at him. “Hello, Tas,” she said in a sort of distracted way and continued on.
Just that. Hello, Tas. Not, My gosh, I’m glad to see you, where have you been all this time, Tas? Just, Hello, Tas.
The small and dusty person was surprised to see him, however. Also very pleased.
“Burrfoot!”
“Conundrum!” Tas cried, at last recognizing the gnome through the dust.
The two shook hands.
“What are you doing here?” Tas asked. “The last time I saw you, you were mapping the Hedge Maze at the Citadel of Light. By the way, the last time I saw the Hedge Maze it was on fire.”
Tasslehoff realized too late that he shouldn’t have sprung such terrible news on the gnome in so sudden a manner.
“Fire!” Conundrum gasped. “My life quest! On fire!”
Stricken to the heart, he collapsed against the side of a building, clutching his breast and gulping for breath. Tas paused to fan the gasping gnome with his hat, still keeping one eye on Goldmoon. Not noticing the gnome’s distress, she kept on walking. When Conundrum showed signs of recovering, Tas grasped his arm and pulled him along down the street after her.
“Just think,” Tas said soothingly, aiding the gnome’s staggering steps, “when they start to rebuild, they’ll come to you because you’ve got the only map.”
“That’s right!” Conundrum exclaimed on thinking this over. He perked up considerably. “You’re absolutely right.” He would have halted on the spot to drag the map out of his knapsack, but Tas said hurriedly that they didn’t have time, they had to keep up with Goldmoon.
“How do you two come to be here in Solanthus, anyway?” Tasslehoff asked, to distract the gnome from thoughts of the blazing Hedge Maze.
Conundrum regaled Tas with the doleful tale of the wreck of the Indestructible, how he and Goldmoon had been cast up on strange shores, and how they had been walking ever since.
“You will not believe this,” Conundrum said, lowering his voice to a fearful whisper, “but she is following ghosts!”
“Really?” said Tasslehoff. “I just left a forest filled with ghosts.”
“Not you, too!” The gnome regarded Tas in disgust.
“I’m quite experienced around the undead,” Tas said with a careless air. “Skeletal warriors, disembodied hands, chain-rattling ghouls … Never a problem for the experienced traveler. I have the Kender Spoon of Turning given to me by my Uncle Trapspringer. If you’d like to see it—”
He began to rummage in his pouch but stopped abruptly when he came across the bits and pieces of the Device of Time Journeying.
“Personally, I think the woman’s mad, unhinged, loony, deranged, bricks missing, spilt marbles, that sort of thing,” Conundrum was saying in low and solemn tones.
“Yes, I suspect you’re right,” said Tas, glancing at Goldmoon, sighing. “She certainly doesn’t act like the Goldmoon I once knew. That Goldmoon was pleased to see a kender. That Goldmoon wouldn’t have let evil wizards send a kender off to be squashed by a giant.” Tas patted Conundrum’s arm. “It’s awfully good of you to stick with her, look out for her.”
“I have to be honest with you,” said Conundrum, “I wouldn’t do it except for the money. Look at this, will you?”
Glancing around to make certain no pickpockets were lurking about, the gnome pulled from the very bottom of his knapsack a large purse that was bulging with coins. Tasslehoff expressed his admiration and reach out to take a look at the pouch. Conundrum cracked the kender’s hand across the knuckles and stuffed the purse back in his sack.
“And don’t you touch it!” the gnome warned with a scowl.
“I don’t think much of money,” Tas said, rubbing his bruised knuckles. “It’s heavy to carry around, and what’s the good of it? I have all these apples with me. Now, no one’s going to clonk me over the head for these apples, but if I had a coin to buy the apples, they’d hit me over the head to steal the coin, and so it’s much better to have the apples. Don’t you agree?”
“Why are you talking about apples?” Conundrum shouted, waving his hands in the air. “What have apples got to do with anything? Or spoons for that matter?”
“You started it,” Tas advised him. Knowing gnomes and how excitable they were, he decided it would be polite to change the subject. “How did you come by all that money anyway?”
“People give it to her,” Conundrum replied, shifting the hand-waving in Goldmoon’s general direction. “Wherever we go, people give her money or a bed for the night or food or wine. They’re extremely kind to her. They’re kind to me, too. No one’s ever been kind to me before,” the gnome added wistfully. “People always say nasty, stupid things to me like, ‘Is it supposed to smoke like that?’ and ‘Who’s going to pay for all the damage?’ but when I’m with Goldmoon, people say kind things to me. They give me food and cold ale and a bed for the night and money. She doesn’t want the money. She gives it to me. I’m keeping it, too.” Conundrum looked quite fierce. “The repairs to Indestructible are going to cost a bundle. I think it was insured for liability only and not collision—”
Tas had a feeling the subject was veering off into a boring area, so he interrupted. “By the way, where are we going?”
“Something to do with Knights,” Conundrum replied. “Live knights, I hope, although I wouldn’t bet on it. You can’t believe how sick I am of hearing about dead people all the time.”
“Knights!” Tasslehoff cried joyfully. “I’m here for the same thing!”
At this juncture, Goldmoon halted. She looked up one street and down another and appeared to be lost. Tasslehoff left the gnome, who was still muttering to himself about insurance, and hastened over to see if Goldmoon required help.
Goldmoon ignored Tas and instead stopped a woman who, to judge by her tabard marked with a red rose, was a Solamnic Knight. The woman gave her directions and then asked what brought Goldmoon to Solanthus.
“I am Goldmoon, a Mystic of the Citadel of Light,” she said, introducing herself. “I hope to be able to speak before the Knights’ Council.”
“I am Lady Odila, Knight of the Rose,” the woman replied and bowed respectfully. “We have heard of Goldmoon of the Citadel of Light. A most highly revered woman. You must be her daughter.”
Goldmoon looked suddenly very worn and weary, as if she had heard this many times before now.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I am her daughter.”
Lady Odila bowed low again. “Welcome to Solanthus, Daughter of Goldmoon. The Knights’ Council has many urgent matters before it, but they are always glad to hear from one of the Mystics of the Citadel of Light, particularly after the terrible news we received of the attack on the citadel.”
“What attack?” Goldmoon went exceedingly pale, so pale that Tasslehoff took hold of her hand and gave a sympathetic squeeze.
“I can tell you—” Tas began.
“Merciful goodness, it’s a kender,” said Lady Odila in the same tone as she might have said, “Merciful goodness, it’s a bugbear.” The Knight detached Tasslehoff’s hand, placed herself in between Tas and Goldmoon. “Don’t worry, Healer. I’ll deal with it. Guard! Another of the little beasts has broken in. Remove it—”
“I am not a little beast!” Tasslehoff stated indignantly. “I’m with Goldmoon … her daughter, that is. I’m a friend of her mother’s.”
“And I’m her business manager,” said Conundrum, bustling up importantly. “If you’d care to contribute money—”
“What attack?” Goldmoon demanded desperately. “Is this true, Tas? When did it happen?”
“It all started when—Excuse me, but I’m talking to Goldmoon!” Tas said, wriggling in the grip of the City Guard.
“Please, leave him alone. He is with me,” Goldmoon pleaded. “I take full responsibility.”
The guard looked dubious, but he could not very well go against the express wishes of one of the revered Mystics of the citadel. He looked to Lady O
dila, who shrugged and said in an undertone, “Don’t worry. I will see to it that he is removed before nightfall.”
Tas, meanwhile, was telling his tale.
“It all started when I went to Palin’s room because I had decided that I would be noble and go back in time and let the giant squish me, only I’ve changed my mind about that now, Goldmoon. You see, I thought about it and—”
“Tas!” Goldmoon said sharply, giving him a little shake. “The attack!”
“Oh, right. Well, Palin and I were talking this over and I looked out the window and saw a big dragon flying toward the citadel.”
“What dragon?” Goldmoon pressed her hand against her heart.
“Beryl. The same dragon who put the curse on me,” Tasslehoff stated. “I know because I went squirmy and shivery all over, even my stomach. So did Palin. We tried to use the Device of Time Journeying to escape, but Palin broke it. By that time Beryl was there, and a lot of other dragons and draconians were jumping out of the skies, and people were running around screaming. Like that time in Tarsis. Do you remember that? When the red dragons attacked us, and the building fell on top of me, and we lost Tanis and Raistlin?”
“My people!” Goldmoon whispered, half-suffocated. She swayed unsteadily on her feet. “What about my people?”
“Healer, please, sit down,” Lady Odila said gently. Putting her arms around Goldmoon, she led her to a low wall that encircled a splashing fountain.
“Can this be true?” Goldmoon asked the Knight.
“I am sorry to say that, strange as it may seem, the kender’s tale is a true one. We received reports from our garrison stationed on Schallsea Isle that the Citadel was attacked by Beryl and her dragons. They did an immense amount of destruction, but most of the people were able to escape safely into the hills.”
“Thank the One God,” Goldmoon murmured.
“What, Healer?” Lady Odila asked, perplexed. “What did you say?”
“I’m not certain,” Goldmoon faltered. “What did I say?”
“You said, ‘Thank the One God.’ We have heard of no god coming to Krynn.” Lady Odila looked intrigued. “What do you mean?”
Dragons of a Lost Star Page 30
