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"Burrfoot!" Flint spurted. His eyes shot open and his hands twisted into tight fists. "I should have thought of that. I knew he was just another thieving, scheming little-" The dwarf cut his verbal tirade short when he noticed a young serving girl, eyes wide and staring, as she lugged ashes from the fireplace.

"Well, that's simple, then," Tanis said. "The kender said he intended to stay here at the inn for a few days. Let's just find him and get it back," he finished reasonably.

"Yeah, I'll get it back." Flint rose to his feet, an evil glint in his eyes.

Otik leaned across the bar on his elbows. "You talking about that little kender fellow you two were drinking with last night?" Flint nodded. Otik shook his balding head. "You won't find him here. He bounced down the stairs early, ate breakfast-and a mighty big one, I'll add, for such a little fellow-then left, that little sling-stick over his shoulder."

Flint seized Otik's arm. "He was just going out for the day, right?"

Otik shook his head again. "I don't think so… He paid off his bill." Otik's expression turned to wonder. "Can you imagine, a kender actually paying his bill? Of course, I had to remind him several times-once he was all the way out the door-but he paid it, all right."

"Did he say where he was headed? The festival, perhaps?" Tanis asked.

Otik eased his bulk onto a stool and tapped his chin in thought. "Festival, hmm. I don't recollect… no, I'm sure not, come to think of it. Just making conversation, I asked him that very question myself. He said he'd had his fill the day before, said he was going to lick his finger, stick it in the air, and go wherever the wind was blowing."

Tanis shook his head sadly and clapped Flint's hunched shoulder sympathetically. "That about clinches it, Flint. You'll just have to tell this lady the truth and give her money back. She'll probably understand."

Flint had been staring silently at some distant point in space, absorbed in thoughts of revenge and kender hunting. Suddenly he spun, grabbed Tanis by the lapels, and shook him. "You don't understand! I don't have the money to give back to her! I spent it on supplies for our trading trip! I can't very well explain that, can I?"

Tanis struggled to pry Flint's hands from his clothing, but couldn't break the dwarf's grip. "So, offer to make her another one."

"Didn't you hear anything I said last night?" he bellowed. "She gave me special ingredients, and there was only enough for one bracelet! She told me specifically to make only one! She came to me because she trusted me-and me alone-to get it right the first time. What am I supposed to say?" he moaned, his face screwing up into a sarcastic grimace. "'Yes, ma'am, I made it, all right. It was beautiful. I'm sorry I let a fast-fingered kender walk off with it.' I'd be humiliated. Worse still, if word spreads, my reputation as a metalsmith will be ruined!"

Still grasping Tanis's lapels, Flint looked toward the door. "Otik, how long ago would you say the kender left?"

"Four hours, maybe."

'You're not thinking of trying to follow him, are you?" Tanis asked, incredulous. "You don't even know what direction he was headed."

"Sure I do. He's walking with the wind." Flint released Tanis only to shove his finger in his mouth, then stare at it as he held it in front of his face. "This will tell me where he went." Tanis's skeptical expression irritated the desperate dwarf. "What other choice do I have? He's only four hours ahead at most. The way kender travel, stopping to talk to bugs and clouds and Reorx knows what other foolish claptrap, I can probably catch up to him, throttle the bracelet out of him, and be back before dark, with average luck."

"What if this lady customer shows up at the booth looking for the bracelet while you're gone?"

Flint thought about that one for a long moment. "You know my wares well enough that you could stay behind and open the booth. Stall her if she shows up-tell her I'm still working on it or something."

Tanis held his hands up defensively and backed away. "Oh, no, you don't. I'm not staying behind to blow your smoke-besides, I'm a terrible liar-you know I am." Tanis shook his head emphatically. "No, if you're doing this, I'm coming with you. We can easily put a sign up at the booth that says 'Open Tomorrow,' or some such thing."

Flint dared an optimistic look. "That would work. Good, then. Let's be off, before that kender gets another mile ahead of us. And when we find him, I'm going to wrap my fingers around his scrawny little neck and squeeze until-"

"Until he gives back the bracelet, and then you're going to let him go," warned Tanis. "I'm coming along to prevent a murder as much as anything else."

"We'll see," murmured Flint.

Chapter 4

Darken Way

Tas's clear, lilting alto cut through the morning mist, heralding his passage down the Southway Road. Since leaving the Inn of the Last Home at daybreak, Tas was sure he had hiked four or five miles, singing the Kender Trailsong to pass the time.

Your one true love's a sailing ship

That anchors at our pier.

We lift her sails, we man her decks,

We scrub the portholes clear.

And yes, our lighthouse shines for her,

And yes, our shores are warm.

We steer her into harbor-

Any port in a storm.

The sailors stand upon the docks,

The sailors stand in line,

As thirsty as a dwarf for gold

Or centaurs for cheap wine.

For all the sailors love her

And flock to where she's moored,

Each man hoping that he might

Go down, all hands on board.

It was an uncommonly pleasant morning, one of the kender's favorite sort. He had awakened to the affable rays of the sun pouring through the colorful stained glass windows of his room. The gay sunshine had made it quite impossible for him to linger in bed. The best breakfast he'd had for months, consisting of spiced potatoes, poached duck eggs, and chokeberry muffins with freshly churned butter, was made even better by the amusing stories of the innkeeper, Otik.

Tas vowed that someday he'd be back through Solace; it was too fine a place not to visit at least twice. In the meantime-well, there was a reason why this phase of a kender's life was called "wanderlust."

No kender could bear the thought of an empty stomach, so before leaving town he had, of course, purchased lunch. Tucked under his arm like a ball was a long, pale loaf of crusty bread; in his pack was a wheel of orange cheese and a flask of fresh milk. Yet he was puzzled by the appearance in his pack of three shiny red apples; he recalled admiring them while he was paying for his other purchases, but how did he inherit them?

The kender shrugged happily.

"Perhaps the merchant had a special-buy cheese, get free apples," he concluded aloud. "Or maybe they just rolled off the cart and fell into my pouch." It was all very curious, the sort of mystery and intrigue kender loved.