Clotnik beamed with incipient pride. But he said nothing, seeming to want to avoid interrupting the narrative.

"The second time," Tanis continued, "he was mortally wounded, yet he dragged himself to my rescue, slaying a goblin who was about to strike me from behind." Tanis looked directly in Clotnik's eyes. "Do these sound like the actions of a bad man?"

The slanting amber light from the setting sun bathed Clotnik's face, his eyes sparkling with a pleasure that went far beyond the reflected glory of the bright orb in the western sky. No, Tanis thought, the reflected glory came from Mertwig. Clotnik seemed to sit straighter, hold his head more erect-even his ears seemed to droop less. He was seeing himself in a different way, Tanis realized; Clotnik had become the son of a hero. Tanis found himself envying the dwarf.

"He did all that?" the dwarf said in awe.

"That and more," Tanis replied, wishing he were describing his own father. "He was also protective of you and generous to your mother. His first impulse was to send you out of harm's way when there was fear of a human invasion. And he wanted only the best for your mother-even," he said without thinking, "when he couldn't afford it." He caught his breath, hoping Clotnik had missed the slip.

Borne up on this proud image of his father, Clotnik shook his head. "Then why wouldn't Kishpa tell me7 Why, when I asked him about the rumors, did he say he didn't know? He'd always change the subject."

"For a simple reason," Tanis said with a benevolent smile. "Kishpa really didn't know." Tanis did not add, however, that he was the only person to whom the dwarf told the truth, just moments before he died.

"I still don't understand," Clotnik said.

"What?"

The dwarf swung and faced Tanis again. The setting sun left him a silhouette to the half-elf. "If there were rumors about my father in Ankatavaka," Clotnik asked, "why didn't Kishpa stand up for him?"

Tanis bent over to peel a piece of wood from the log. He busied himself with pulling little chips of charred wood from the piece, then wiped his sooty hands on the sandy ground. "He stood up for you, didn't he?" Tanis answered, deflecting the question. "He took care of you all these years. Isn't that what Brandella said?"

"It's just strange," insisted the dwarf. "Kishpa took me in very soon after my mother died. Brandella had already disappeared, and I've always wondered if it was her loss that caused him to take me in. It seemed he needed someone to talk to. And me… I needed someone to listen to. He treated me as if I were his own. But when I grew and the stories persisted about my father, he took me away from Ankatavaka. We traveled all across Ansalon. We had no friends except each other and, to amuse myself and Kishpa, I learned to juggle."

"And you learned it well. No magic involved?"

"None at all," the dwarf said proudly. "I would not allow Kishpa to enchant the balls. Not even the glass one, though he begged me to let him."

Tanis found that he couldn't speak. "Kishpa was a good father to me. I just wish he would have let me enter his past; I would have loved to have seen my father, talked to him." The droopy-eared dwarf turned to Tanis in sudden contrition. "Forgive me I I never asked if you found your own father. Here I am, so concerned only with myself. I should have-" Tanis stemmed the rush of words with a wave of one tanned hand. "Don't apologize. Except for meeting Brandella-and that's a very large exception-I would much rather that you had gone to meet your father, too." "He was not what you'd hoped?" "He was not what anyone would have hoped," said Tanis dryly. "Sometimes it's better to imagine the truth." "But not in my case?" asked Clotnik. "No," said Tanis with a smile. "Not in your case." The dwarf leaned back, contented. The sim was nearly down, and dusk had settled over the land. "Brandella should be back soon," said Tanis. "Before she returns, tell me something." "Anything." "Why did Kishpa and Brandella part? You said something about her disappearing." "That's what he called it. He never spoke of it much. It seemed too painful to him. All he said was she had painted a picture of some kind that foretold a time when she would be taken away from him. And someone did, indeed, come and fetch her. He never saw her again." Tanis sat in stunned silence, the mystified expression on his face hidden by the enveloping darkness of night. It was that same darkness, however, that eventually began to trouble the half-elf. "Brandella should have been back by now," he said, rising to his feet. "Maybe I should make sure she's all right." "I'll show you the way," said Clotnik. They walked quietly through the night, making their way out of the glade and up the hill. When they reached the grave site, Brandella was gone.

39

"Sliqs," whispered Clotnik, sniffinf the air. "I can smell their stinking odor. They must have taken her," he said with disgust. He kicked at the ground. "Kishpa's fire didn't stop them. They're still after that enchanted quill." Suddenly, he whirled in the dark to face Tanis. "You did get rid of the quill, didn't you?" "Yes" said Tanis distractedly, looking for some sign that would tell him in what direction the cousins of the hobgoblins had gone. "I left it in Kishpa's memory, just as he instructed." His elven eyesight helped him see slig footprints all over the grave site, but they told him nothing he didn't already know. Meanwhile his mind spun with recriminations. He berated himself for letting Brandella wander off alone. To have come this far with her only to lose her to a band of sligs filled him with rage. He would have exploded in frustration if he had not spotted a faint point of light on a distant hill. He gestured. "Over there! It looks like a campfire."

They headed indirectly toward the light. Tanis led the way making sure they did not leave themselves silhouetted against the horizon. Hugging lower ground, they were fast-moving shadows intent upon their destination. When they got close enough to smell the smoke from the campfire, Tanis ducked behind a burned stump and said, "We'll circle around behind. They'll be less likely to expect anyone from the direction they came from."

Breathing hard, Clotnik nodded in agreement. When they neared the rear of the camp, the dwarf managed to ask between gasps, "I wonder where they got the wood for a fire? Everything out here burned up three days ago."

Tanis's answer was to clap his hand over Clotnik's mouth and drag him, face down, to the ground.

A nearby slig guard paused as though it had heard voices. Sounds drifted down from the raucous slig camp above; the creature quirked its pointed ears down below, obviously trying to discern whether these new sounds came from below or from the camp. Its sword at the ready, the slig tromped down the hill to investigate.

"Don't move," Tanis whispered in Clotnik's ear. "And whatever happens, don't let its spittle touch your skin; it's poisonous."

Clotnik nodded, and Tanis removed his hand. flickering light from the fire at the top of the hill illuminated the slig guard in yellow flashes. More than six feet in height, the slig wore no clothes, although its back was daubed with broad stripes of black and brown. Its body was a mass of tough, horny hide that seemed more like flexible stone than skin. A tail dragged along the ground. When the slig looked their way, Tanis saw its long, thin mouth open to reveal rows of thick, sharp teeth. Its almost hornlike ears were huge and pointed.

Clotnik turned to whisper to Tanis, but the half-elf had disappeared without making a sound. Alone, not knowing what he should do, the dwarf froze. All Clotnik could do was watch the slig in silent terror as the guard made its way closer to where he hid in the brush.