They pleaded with him.

Nothing happened.

"Back so soon?" quipped Scowarr.

Tanis wandered into the woods, away from the pond. His limbs ached with fatigue, and his head hurt from trying to devise some other way to reach the old Kishpa. In the end, he realized that he had to face up to the truth: He was never leaving this place. He had tried and failed. The best Tanis could hope for was that the old mage would live a little longer so that Tanis might have time for himself before the inevitable plunge into darkness.

Knowing now that this would be the last world that he would see, Tanis felt a terrible loneliness. He had promised that he would meet his old friends in five years at the Inn of the Last Home. It was a reunion that would never be. When he failed to appear, they would all wonder what had become of him. Kit would think he was avoiding her-if she herself showed up. Sturm might talk about going to look for him, and Caramon would jump at the chance for such an adventure. But Raistlin, smiling darkly, would never allow his brother to begin such a quest. Raistlin. Would the young mage suspect that it was magic that had kept Tanis from their reunion? Tas would be hurt that the half-elf had not come back, but then he'd likely forget all about it because that was the way of kender.

It was Flint whom Tanis felt worst about. The old dwarf had been brother, father, uncle, and friend to him. It would go hard with Flint if he never returned. The old dwarf was gruff and full of bluster, but he had a heart that was very capable of breaking. And break it would. Flint would guess what the others would not let themselves think: If Tanis didn't show up at the Inn of the Last Home, it meant that he was dead.-He desperately wished to spare Flint some of the pain that would come on that distant day.

And then Tanis realized that he could.

The half-elf ran back through the woods, racing for the clearing where Brandella and Scowarr waited for him. He pushed through tree branches and hurtled over bushes, not because he knew how to leave the mage's memory, but because he was going home to see his dearest friend. Of all his companions, only Flint Fireforge existed in this time. Dwarves easily lived more than a hundred years. Flint would be young and dashing-or at least as dashing as Flint could ever be, Tanis amended.

If Tanis couldn't return for the reunion, he would do the next best thing and find Flint now.

Brandella and Scowarr sat wide-eyed with surprise as he ran toward them. He had just broken through the trees and was coming around the far side of the pond when it happened: Everything changed.

The pond, the trees, the rolling hills beyond-all disappeared, to be instantly replaced by a view of Solacel It would have taken days to walk it from the glade, yet he had arrived in Solace in the blink of an eye. It was as if his wish had come true. Or had it?

Sitting together at the foot of the massive vallenwood tree that housed the Inn of the Last Home, were Brandella and Scowarr. They looked as startled as he was.

"How did we get here?" asked Scowarr, confused.

"I don't know," Tanis replied. "Unless this, too, is part of Kishpa's memory."

He looked down, unable to meet Brandella's gaze any longer, as he said, "Whatever time is left, you should spend with your mage." He wanted to reach out and hold her, but instead he said, "Find him, Brandella. Let him know that you love him." And then he spoke his own feelings: "You should let the one you love know that you will always treasure her." His eyes shone. "Always."

Her face glowed. Tanis wondered what that meant, but he didn't stay to find out. He swallowed his good-bye in a whisper and rushed away.

Tanis knocked on the rounded door. Weeds waved around the flat stones that led to Hint's ground-level abode. The hill dwarf had been leery at first of the prospect of living in trees, Tanis remembered; the call of ale would be strong enough to lure Hint up the spiral stairway to the Inn of the Last Home, but the dwarf couldn't help preferring lower altitudes for his own lodgings. The oaken door showed the talents of the metalsmith within-hinges, bolts, door handle crafted with artistry.

"Who ish it7" demanded a familiar voice that the half- elf suspected was dulled by ale.

"A friend."

"Imposshible," called out the voice. "I don't"- hiccup-"like anybody."

'That's not true," countered Tanis.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Tanis heard the sound of a chair being shoved back.

"No," the half-elf hastened to reply. "Not at all. I'm simply saying that you have friends you don't even know about."

There was a pause; the dwarf must have been considering the possibility. Then-"Hmmph. Not likely!"- came the response.

Tanis leaned one tired arm against the side of the dwelling. "Must we talk through the door, Flint?" "You know my name?" Bootsteps ventured closer to the door. Tanis hoped the testy dwarf wasn't standing there, battle-axe in hand, only steps away. He tried to make his voice agreeable. "More than that. I also know you're one of fourteen brothers and sisters." Another pause. "Who told you that7" "You did." "Imposshible!" "Will you please open the door7" Tanis heard the latch give way. Then the door swung open, revealing a youthful, if drunken, Flint Fireforge. The half-elf could only marvel at the unlined face, the nose roundish but not yet bulbous, the body trim if a lit- tly pudgy. Still, there were the ruddy cheeks, the bushy beard, the bright eyes. Tanis hadn't realized how lonely he was until he saw his old friend. Nearly washed away in a flood of emotions, Tanis blurted, "I found you!" Hint looked unimpressed. "Congratulations. Now you can unfind me." The dwarf immediately started closing the door. "Wait!" Hint sighed but halted. "What ish it? What?" "I just want to talk to you." Tanis knew that Hint wouldn't know him, but he somehow still hoped that there would be a spark of recognition. He could see nothing untoward in the dwarf's eyes. The dwarf peered at the half-elf standing in the doorway. "You don't look familiar. You don't sound familiar. You don't even smell familiar," Hint said irascibly. "You look like you've been through too many battles in too little time." Nonetheless, Hint felt a strange kinship with the half- elf, perhaps because of the need he could see in the stranger's face. He had known need like that himself. Or maybe, thought the dwarf, I'm just drunk. Hint asked in an unfriendly tone, 'Talk? What about?" "Can I come in?"

'Til come out. If it's business, I do my talking at the inn."

"I'll buy you a plate of Otik's spiced fried potatoes," Tanis offered.

The dwarf gazed up, his beard aquiver with suspicion. "Otik who?"

Tanis shook his head. Of course; Otik hadn't bought the Inn yet. "Never mind," he said. "I'll buy you the ale."

They made their way up to the Inn of the Last Home, perched high in its majestic vallenwood tree.

The two old friends who had yet to meet in the real world sat across from each other, one eating potatoes, the other drinking ale. Tanis took in the sight of the big main room of the inn. The walls were dirty with soot; the stained glass windows were so grimy that you couldn't tell if it was day or night. The floor looked as if it hadn't been washed in a month. And the odor defied description. Tanis had never appreciated Otik so much until that moment. As for the present innkeeper, he seemed a decent, if slovenly, sort. He was tall and skinny with a crooked nose and sad green eyes. Hint called him "Hey, You."

The inn and its owner didn't matter that much to Tanis. The important thing was that he was there with Hint Fireforge.