The laboratory had seemed pretty boring to the kender before they had entered the Abyss. It looked as good as market day in Flotsam now.
Tas was all set to dash back through the Portal when he remembered his manners. He turned, held out his small hand to Raistlin.
“Well, good-bye, Raistlin. It was nice seeing you again, even if you did murder poor Gnimsh. I’ve forgiven you for that, though, because Caramon said you tried to make it all up by sacrificing yourself and closing the Portal when you knew the Dark Queen was waiting to rip you open and tear your guts out.”
At this point, a thought occurred to the kender. “I say, Raistlin. Is the Dark Queen going to come back and chain you to the wall and rip you open and tear your guts out? Not that I want her to, of course. You must find that extremely unpleasant. But if she absolutely insisted on it, I’d sort of like to watch.”
Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. “If you think you’d enjoy it, Master Burrfoot, perhaps I’ll ask Her Dark Majesty to rip your guts out.”
Tas considered this a truly generous offer, but he finally shook his head. “It’s nice of you to think of me, Raistlin. I’ve never had my guts ripped out before and, while it would certainly be entertaining, I don’t suppose it would be conducive to a long life. Tanis is always telling me to think before I do anything, whether or not it would be conducive to a long life, and not to do it if it wasn’t. I’d say that comes under that last category.”
Palin looked truly alarmed. “The Dark Queen’s not coming, is she, Uncle? To … to torture you …?”
“She would like to. Takhisis has a long memory. She does not forget or forgive. She would take her vengeance on me if she could, but I am protected from her wrath.” Raistlin spoke dryly. “As the kender said—a reward for my sacrifice.”
“Then you’re not going to be tortured?” Tas asked.
“No, I am not,” Raistlin said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“That’s all right,” Tas reassured him. “This trip has been really great, just the same. Getting to see all the gods up close like that. Of course, I did sort of miss Fizban, but I could see where he wouldn’t have been of much help in a desperate situation like this. And now I’ve seen what Paladine looks like when he isn’t setting his beard on fire and losing his hat. And Gilean seemed awfully familiar, but I can’t recall where I’ve seen him before. Chemosh was frightfully ugly, wasn’t he? Is that skull really his face? And Morgion, all his flesh falling off like that. I probably should have said ‘hello’ to Paladine. It would have been polite, since he and I are such close personal friends, but I was having trouble with my voice. Maybe the cat got my tongue. But if that were so, what happened to the cat? And why would a cat want an extra tongue in the first place?”
“You must go,” Raistlin said firmly. “You are wasting time.”
“I’m ready,” Tas announced, and he started walking back into the Portal. “Good-bye, Raistlin!” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll tell Caramon you said, ‘hi,’ even though you didn’t.”
The kender realized suddenly he was alone. “Palin, aren’t you coming?”
Palin stood still, his hand running nervously up and down the staff. He looked at Raistlin. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”
“No, Nephew. I am not.”
“But you could if you wanted to. You’re not dead. You gave the staff to me. You were the one who brought us here.”
“Yes, I could return,” Raistlin said quietly. “You are right. I am not dead. Yet neither am I truly alive. But why should I go back? The world held little pleasure for me when I was in it. I’ve done my part—bringing you here, showing you the danger. You have done what no other mortal being has ever done. You have been witness to a meeting of the gods. Now you must return, warn people, warn the knights of both Takhisis and Paladine, warn the wizards of the three moons and those of the Gray Robes. Warn your father and tell him to spread the warning. Tell them all what you have seen and heard.”
“I will tell them,” Palin said. “But I am not certain that I fully understand what I’ve seen and heard. I can warn them that Chaos is intent on destroying the world. I can tell them that Paladine has given us into the hands of darkness. I wonder if anyone will believe me. But you, Uncle. They would believe you. Come with me!”
Raistlin gazed intently at Palin. “That is not your only reason for wanting me to return, is it, Nephew?”
Palin flushed, replied quietly, “No, Uncle. It is not. I came here to find you … because I wanted you to teach me.”
“There are numerous teachers of mage-craft in the world. You are gifted in the art, Nephew. Surely there must be many who would want such a brilliant pupil.”
“Perhaps, but they don’t want me,” said Palin, his flush deepening.
“And why not you?” Raistlin asked softly.
“Because … because of …” Palin hesitated.
“Because of me?” Raistlin said with an unpleasant smile. “They still fear me that much, do they?”
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Raistlin,” Tas offered helpfully, “but there were times when you weren’t a very nice person.”
Raistlin fixed the golden, hourglass eyes on the kender. “I thought I heard someone calling you.”
“You did?” Tas listened, but he didn’t hear anything. “Where?”
“Over there!” Raistlin pointed.
And then Tas did hear something—a gruff, grumbling voice.
“And what do you think you’re doing here, Tasslehoff Burrfoot? Up to nothing good, I reckon. Likely getting yourself and those poor fools with bad luck enough to be stuck with you into no end of trouble …”
Tasslehoff whirled around so fast that the flaps of his pouches flew open, scattering his prized possessions all over the Abyss. But for once in his life, Tas didn’t care.
“Flint!”
Long gray beard and disapproving scowl and gruff voice and all. Tas was preparing to hug Flint, whether the dwarf liked being hugged or not (which he generally didn’t, but then this was a special occasion), when Tas noticed two people standing behind Flint.
“Sturm!” Tas gasped with pleasure. “And Tanis! What are you doing here? Wait! I know! We’re going on another adventure! Where are we going? Wherever it is, I’m sure to have a map. My maps are up to date now. Tarsis by the Sea isn’t anymore—by the sea, I mean. Tarsis is still where it always was. I say, Flint. Hold still so I can hug you.”
Flint snorted. “As if I’d let a kender within a foot of me, much less hug me! Keep your distance, and I’ll keep my money pouch.”
Tas knew Flint didn’t truly mean it, tried again to hug his friend. But the kender’s arms wrapped around nothing but gray air.
Tas stepped back. “Flint, quit joking about. How can I go adventuring with you if you won’t hold still?”
“I’m afraid you’re not going with us, Tas,” Tanis said gently. “It’s not that we don’t want you—”
“It’s not as if we did, either,” Flint grumbled.
Tanis smiled, rested his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “We came because your old friend wanted to have a word with you.”
The dwarf shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, smoothed his beard, and got very red in the face.
“Yes, Flint, what is it?” Tas asked, considerably subdued and even feeling the beginnings of a snuffle coming on. He had a strange sort of ache in his heart, as if his insides knew something was not quite right but hadn’t gotten around to telling his out-sides about it. It didn’t seem right for Tanis to be here.
“What did you want to say to me, Flint?”
“Well, Lad,” Flint said after a few wheezes and throat-clearings, “I was saying to Tanis, when I first saw him—”
The ache in Tas’s heart grew until it was almost too much to bear. He put his hand over it, hoping to make the ache go away, at least until Flint was done.
“I said to Tanis, when I first saw him, that I am … well … getting a bit lonely,
you might say.”
“Under your tree, you mean?” Tas asked.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Flint growled. “I’m very well situated. That tree of mine—it’s a wondrous sort of tree. Every bit as pretty as the vallenwoods back home. Tanis himself said so, when he saw it. And it’s warm there, next to Reorx’s forge, and interesting, too. Creation never stops, you see, or else one part or another needs a touch of mending. Reorx works there, hammering away. And he tells stories, wonderful tales about other worlds that he’s seen …”
“Stories!” Tas cheered up. “I love to hear stories! And I’ll bet he’d like to hear a few of mine, like the time I found the woolly mammoth—”
“I’m not finished!” Flint roared.
“Sorry, Flint,” Tas said meekly. “Go ahead.”
“Now I forgot where I was,” Flint said irritably.
“About being lonely …” Tas hinted.
“I remember!” Flint folded his arms over his chest, drew in a deep breath, let it and the words out in a rush. “I wanted to tell you, Lad, that if you ever are of a mind to come see me, you’ll be welcome. I don’t know why it is.” The dwarf did appear extremely confused. “And I know I’m going to regret saying this, but I … I’ve come to miss you, Lad.”
“Well, of course, you have,” Tas said, amazed that the dwarf hadn’t figured this out earlier. “I can’t help thinking—and I hope your tree isn’t offended—but sitting in one place all day watching a god hammer on the world doesn’t sound very exciting to me. Which reminds me. Speaking of gods, we just saw Reorx. And all the rest of the gods, too! And the most wonderful—I mean terrible—things are happening in the world. Here, I’ll get Palin to come tell you about them. Palin!” The kender turned, yelled, and waved. “And there’s Raistlin. This is quite the reunion, isn’t it? You’ve never met Palin. That’s odd, why doesn’t he come over and say hello?”
Palin glanced over, waved his hand, the sort of wave which says, You’re having fun, good. Keep on having fun. Now leave me alone.
Flint, who had been trying to say something for the past several minutes and never getting the words out, due to Tas interrupting him, finally stated, “He can’t see us, you ninny!”
“Of course, he can see,” Tas said, a bit irritably “It’s only Tanis who needs spectacles—”
“Not anymore, Tas,” Tanis said. “Palin can’t see us because he is alive. We exist in a different realm now.”
“Not you, too, Tanis?” Tas said in a small voice.
“I’m afraid—”
“You must have done something that was not conducive to living a long life,” Tas continued hastily, blinking and giving his eyes a swipe with his hand. He grew stern. “Which I must say wasn’t very smart of you, Tanis. I mean, you’re always telling me not to do things that are not conducive to leading a long … long …” His voice began to quiver.
“I guess I just wasn’t thinking,” Tanis said, smiling. “I lived well, Tas. I had many blessings in my life. It was hard to leave those I loved,” he added, “but I have friends here.”
“As well as enemies,” Flint said grimly.
Tanis’s face grew shadowed. “Yes, we will be fighting our own battles in this realm.”
Tas pulled out a handkerchief (one of Palin’s), mopped his eyes, and blew his nose. He sidled closer to Flint.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Flint,” Tas said in a loud whisper, which could probably be heard in most parts of the Abyss, “I’m not the adventurer I used to be. No.” The kender heaved a great sigh. “I sometimes think—and I know you’re not going to believe this—but I sometimes think of retiring, settling down. I can’t understand what’s come over me. It’s just not fun anymore, if you know what I mean.
“Ah, you doorknob,” Flint said gruffly. “Can’t you figure it out? You’re getting old.”
“Old? Me!” Tas was thunderstruck. “I don’t feel old, inside, I mean. If it wasn’t for the occasional annoying pain in my back and my hands and the strong urge to take naps by the fire instead of shouting taunts at minotaur—they get really angry, did you know that? Especially when you go ‘mooo’ at them. It’s amazing how fast an angry minotaur can run when he’s chasing you. Anyway, where was I?”
“Where you should be,” Tanis said. “Good-bye, Tas. May the minotaur never catch you.”
“ ‘Moo’ at a minotaur!” Flint humpfed. “Of all the doorknobs! Take care of yourself, Lad.” He turned quickly, walked away very fast, shaking his head. The last thing Tas heard, the dwarf was still muttering,
“ ‘Moo!’ ” to himself.
“Paladine walk with you, Tas,” Sturm said, and he turned and followed after Flint.
“Just so long as he walks with me and doesn’t try any fireball spells,” Tas said, somewhat dubious.
He watched until he couldn’t see them anymore, which was almost instantaneously, because one moment they were there and the next they weren’t.
“Tanis? Flint?” Tas called their names a couple of times. “Sturm? I’m sorry I took your bracers once by accident.”
But there was no answer.
After a couple more blubbers and a few hurting sobs seized the kender unexpectedly, Tas drew in a deep, hiccuping breath, wiped his nose on his sleeve—the handkerchief was wet past using—and sighed, somewhat irritably.
“People need me, Tanis says. Well, they’re always needing me, it seems. Banish a ghoul here, fight a goblin there. Never a moment’s peace. Still, that’s what comes of being a hero. I guess I’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Gathering up his pouches, Tas, shuffling his feet through the gray sand, walked slowly back to the Portal. Palin was still talking to Raistlin.
“I wish you would reconsider. Come back, Uncle. Father would be so pleased to see you.”
“Would he?” Raistlin asked softly.
“Why, yes …” Palin stopped, uncertain.
Raistlin smiled, shrugged. “You see? Things are best as they are. Look!” A faint light was beginning to beam from the Portal. “The queen is once more bending her thoughts this way. She is now aware that the Portal is open. You must go back through and shut it again. Use the staff. Swiftly.”
The sky grew dark, the gray deepening to black. Palin looked at it uneasily, but still he hesitated.
“Uncle …”
“Go back, Palin,” Raistlin said, his voice cold. “You do not know what you ask of me.”
Palin sighed, then he looked at the staff in his hand, looked back at Raistlin. “Thank you, Uncle. Thank you for having faith in me. I will not fail you. Come on, Tas. Hurry! The guardians are returning.”
“I’m coming.”
But Tas dragged his feet. The thought of five multicolored, screaming dragon heads, all of them maybe trying to devour him, didn’t excite him in the least. Well, not much.
“Good-bye, Raistlin. I’ll tell Caramon you said … Why, hullo, Kitiara! Gosh! People certainly do pop up from out of nowhere around here, don’t they? Remember me, Kitiara? I’m Tasslehoff Burrfoot.”
The dark-haired woman, wearing blue dragon armor, a sword at her side, shoved the kender brutally aside. She came to stand in front of Palin, blocked his way back to the Portal.
“I’m very glad to meet you at last, Nephew,” Kitiara said, smiling the crooked smile. She extended her hand, took a step closer. “Why don’t you stay a little longer? There’s someone coming who would very much like to meet you.…”
Tas shouted a warning. “Palin, look out!”
Kitiara drew her sword; the blade shone with a dull, sullen gray light. She advanced on Palin. “You have heard what you were not meant to hear. My queen does not take kindly to spies!”
Kitiara swung her blade. Palin lifted his staff, countered the blow, tried to shove Kit backward. The two stood locked in the struggle. And then Kit fell back suddenly. Palin, overbalanced, stumbled forward. Kit leapt to the attack.
Tasslehoff searched about frantically for something to hurl at Kitiara.
He had nothing but the objects in his pouches and himself. Figuring that his most prized possessions, while undeniably valuable, wouldn’t do much to stop an enraged Kitiara, Tas hurled himself, launching his small body in her general direction, hoping to knock her down and avoid impaling himself on her sword at the same time.
He forgot he was in the Abyss. The kender flew at Kitiara, flew through Kitiara, and flew out the other side of Kitiara without ever touching her. But he did accomplish something; he managed to bump her sword, which—strangely—had substance to it. Kit’s lunge, aiming for Palin’s heart, went awry.
Tas landed on all fours, shaken and confused.
Palin staggered backward. A splotch of red blossomed on his white robes. He clutched his shoulder, swayed, and sank to one knee. Kitiara, cursing, lifted her sword and advanced again.
Scrambling to his feet, Tas was about to have another go at the sword, when he heard Raistlin chanting strange words. Black robes swirled in front of Tas. The dragons of the Portal began shrieking, and just when everything was at its most interesting, something struck Tasslehoff right between the eyes.
He saw the most fascinating collection of stars on the backside of his eyelids, felt himself toppling, and was overtaken by an inadvertent nap.
10
A prisoner. The lashing.
he key rattled in the lock. The cell door swung open.
“Visitor, Brightblade,” said the jailer.
Steel sat up on his straw pallet, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He wondered if it was day or night; he had no way of knowing. The dungeons, located on the first level of the tower, had no windows. Steel blinked in the torchlight, tried to see who was entering.
He heard the whisper of robes, saw a glimmer of gray.
Steel rose slowly, chains clanking, to his feet. He must show this woman respect, for she was his superior, but he wouldn’t hurry about it.
“Nightlord,” he said, watching her warily.
She drew close, her gaze darting all over him, taking in every aspect of his degradation, from his filthy clothes to his matted hair and manacled wrists.
Dragons of Summer Flame Page 41
