Timing was all. Tanis knew that if he made his move too soon, Fistandantilus would stop Kishpa's spell and allow them to be crushed by the avalanche. But if Tanis waited too long, if he didn't act in the instant before the spell took effect, he risked the worst of all, bringing the infamous wizard back into Life.

Tanis had to wager that Fistandantilus was fully occupied. The half-elf let himself recall what the old dragon, Softfire, had said: The wizards in Death had little use of their magic. Tanis gambled that the wizard had been bluffing, that he had no power over Brandella's sister or Tanis's mother, that his power in Death extended mainly to pyrotechnics designed to impress visitors. After all, the mage was doomed to stay in the shadows of his horrid mountain; the half-elf hoped Fistandantilus's power was far more limited than the mage had let on.

Soon Tanis would no longer have to pretend to go along with the wizard. As far as the half-elf was concerned, Fistandantilus's threat was empty and the half-elf did not fear him; he just wanted the mage to cast Kishpa's spell.

But when was the right time to act?

"Kyvorek blastene tyvvelekk winderfall!" the voice of Fistandantilus thundered. "Tylvvanus! Tylvvanus!" The voice was greater than the din of the fast-approaching avalanche, greater even than the crumbling foothills above the cabin that gave way with huge mudslides, threatening to bury them before the avalanche sealed their doom. Brandella and Tanis saw it all through the porous roof and the splintering walls. The weaver screamed and tried, again unsuccessfully, to pull away from the half-elf.

They had seconds to live. Yet Tanis waited. He sensed that Kishpa's spell was not complete. There had to be a sign, a moment-something-that would tell him that they were about to be transported back to the world of the living. But there was nothing. And Death was nearly upon them.

Brandella screamed again. The mudslide loomed like a tidal wave, poised on its crest and about to break over them. At the same moment, the avalanche smashed through the mud. There was no time left. Tanis raised his hand-the hand that held the mirror-over his head. -

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something-the candle flickered for the very first time. It must be the sign! He threw the mirror with all of his might against the candle. The light was snuffed, and the mirror fell to the rock floor, shattering it into a thousand slivers of useless glass.

"No!" screamed the mage.

37

They heard the rushing wind, the roar of the massive wave of mud, and the crashing of the avalanche. The sounds filled their ears like the echo of the surf in a sea shell. Before them, however, they saw the sun shining in a bright blue sky, felt a cool breeze upon their skin, and heard the flapping of wings as several birds flew away in fear upon the astonishing arrival of a human and a half-elf in their charred thicket of bushes.

Tanis tried to get his bearings. It didn't take him long. He saw the burnt glade and the ash-covered pond. The air was redolent with the scent of fire. But when he looked at the tree trunk upon which Kishpa had rested, the mage was nowhere in sight. Neither was Clotnik.

"Where are we?" Brandella asked in a small voice, gratefully gripping the half-elf's hand, the hand she had so recently disdained. "It looks familiar."

"You were here with me before, when it was a younger wood, before the fire that destroyed it. Brandella," Tanis said quietly, reverently, "We are home. It was from this place that I came for you. And it is to this place that we have been returned."

"And without Fistandantilus," she added, shamefacedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't trust you."

Tanis kept his voice steady and looked straight at her. She didn't meet his eyes, however. "You had no way of knowing what I planned," he said, squeezing her hand, "and I couldn't risk telling you. Besides, the important thing is that we're here."

She finally smiled at him and took his other hand. Her voice was soft. 'Yes. Somehow we have managed… thanks to you."

Tanis gently pulled her closer. She did not resist. When their bodies touched, he let go of her hands, encircling her with his arms. Brandella slipped her own arms under Tanis's and joined him willingly in an embrace. Her head rested on his shoulder.

In that moment, Tanis was at peace.

He lifted her head and they looked at each other with searching eyes. And just as quickly as he had found peace, he lost it. The half-elf had done his duty for Kishpa; now he wanted to do something for himself. Yet he paused. What if she were merely grateful? What if her hug was meant as one given by a sister to a brother? What if she flatly rejected him? And really, was it that different from a romance with Kitiara? It was still love between a human and one of elven blood. Even with only half-elven blood, he would be doomed to watching his beloved grow old and die-decades, and possibly centuries, before him. He thought of all those things and much more as he looked down upon her parted lips and deep, engulfing eyes. He had to know how the beautiful human weaver, the courageous archer, felt about Tanis Half-Elven. Yet he did not know if he had the right to find out.

Despite himself, he slowly, tentatively lowered his head toward hers. She shifted in his arms. He couldn't tell if she was snuggling in closer or getting a grip so that she could push him away. A voice startled them, calling out, "Who's there?"

As if they had been caught doing something forbidden, Tanis and Brandella quickly parted, carelessly stepping on blackened tree branches. The brittle wood cracked, tossing up little clouds of ash.

'Throw down your weapons and show yourselves," ordered the voice, "or I'll have my men shower that thicket with arrows!"

"Clotnik, is that you7"

'Tanis?"

The half-elf threw back his head and laughed. '"Tell your men to disappear," he said as he pulled Brandella with him out of the bushes.

When they emerged into a clearing near the pond, Clotnik stood there alone, brown hair and beard as rumpled as ever, eyes bright green beneath a sloped forehead. "My men are all gone," he said with an impish grin. 'They're very good at following orders."

Tanis and Clotnik clasped hands with the warmth of old friends. The juggler was clearly glad to see him, and Tanis felt the same way.

"I thought you were gone forever," admitted the juggler. "I had given up on your ever returning. You must tell me everything that happened. Everything!"

"I will," Tanis agreed. "Later. First, though, we must drink and eat. We are," he said, glancing at Brandella with a playful grin, "so thirsty and hungry that we're close to Death."

She smiled back at him, and the dwarf's gaze drifted toward the woman who stood behind Tanis. He looked up at her with fascination and not a little awe.

Tanis gathered his wits about him. "Brandella, the weaver, may I introduce Clotnik, the juggler. Brandella, Clotnik is a friend of Kishpa's.

The homely dwarf with the drooping ears nodded his head. "I know you," Clotnik finally said.

Brandella studied the dwarf's face. She walked past Tanis, stepping closer to the dwarf, whose eyes seemed to beg for a spark of recognition.

She reached out and touched his face, then ran her fingers over his matted brown hair. Clotnik looked up at her with a childlike expression… and she threw her arms around him. "It's you," she cried. "You stayed with Kishpa all these years!"

Tanis stared at both of them, bewildered. He'd been in Ankatavaka, too, but he hadn't recognized Clotnik during his short stay. And he would have remembered. There were few dwarves in the elven village. In fact, the only ones he remembered were Mertwig and Yeblidod.