I must look to my weaving and tell you that the kind of love you seek is like one of my scarves. Just as a scarf covers the vulnerable throat from the cold, so does a deep and generous love protect what is vulnerable about you from the world. Love, like a scarf, wraps itself around you on the coldest of days, one more time around you when the winds of evil fortune blow their worst. And, like a scarf, a great love covers your heart. But also like a scarf, love can be easily lost or left behind if one is not careful to remember it.

Now you wait for me while I write a letter that you may never read. So I'll stop now, except to say that should you leave this world while I remain here, I will hold you dear in my memory. After all, what is memory except a way of keeping the things you never want to lose? Farewell but Never Good-bye, Brandella

Tanis reached the gently snoring Clotnik and sat next to him on a weathered block from the village wall, rereading the letter even as it crumbled in his hands. He tried to read between the lines, under the lines, around the lines-he wanted to understand exactly what she meant. Why hadn't she come right out and said what she felt for him? She'd expected that he somehow knew. Then, again, maybe it was better that he could imagine how she felt.

As Tanis sat immersed in Brandella's letter, six of the seven dead sligs that littered the ruins began to stir. Although they continued to lie as they had fallen, something profound was happening to their bodies. Regardless of their size, shape, or the wounds that had felled them, they started to transform. Slowly at first, the huge hands became smaller, and the fingers lost their long, sharp nails. The transformation picking up speed, their skin lost its scaly hardness. Snouts shrank, jaws and teeth lost their carnivorous appearance. Ears got smaller. Each of the bodies began to change shape, clothing suddenly appeared to cover their nakedness, and weapons evolved in their hands. Soon the eyes fluttered open, though no breath passed their lips.

"Kind of a slow reader, aren't you, half-elf?"

The cracked voice came from directly behind him, and Tanis instantly reached for his knife.

"Now, now. None of that, young fellow." Tanis looked over his shoulder. An old elf, looking none too steady on his feet, stood a few feet away. Faded tunic and woven slacks, many times patched but scrupulously clean, covered the wiry body. The half-elf put his knife back in its sheath. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," he said. "Didn't sneak," the old man said with a sniff, amber eyes defensive. "Made plenty of noise, but you didn't hear me. I'm not surprised, what with you having your nose glued to that piece of paper." Tanis refolded Brandella's note. The old elf pointed at Clotnik arid said, "He was trying to find me before, but I wouldn't let him. Don't like people looking for me." Tanis could think of nothing to say. The old elf grinned, his wrinkled face seeming a little younger. "It's funny," he said after a bit, "but that dwarf looks a little familiar." "He's the son of Mertwig and Yeblidod," Tanis offered. "Ah," said the elf, nodding his head. "I remember them. The dwarf was a-" "Old one," Tanis cut in sharply, "keep your opinions to yourself." He glanced down at Clotnik to make sure the juggler had not awakened. He lay there peacefully, and Tanis was satisfied. The elf made a sour face but said no more about Mertwig. 'Tell me, old one," Tanis asked intently, leaning close to the elf. "Do you remember a woman-a human-who lived in this village? Her name was Brandella." The elf put a leathery finger to his lower lip. "Brandella? Let me see… she was Kishpa's friend, wasn't she?" Tanis smiled happily. 'Tell me about her." 'Tve got to go," the elf suddenly announced, backing away. "What's wrong?" Tanis asked in alarm. "Don't like crowds. That's why I live here alone. Good-bye, now."

"Crowds?" Tanis asked. "A half-elf and one sleeping dwarf?" At that moment, though, he looked up and saw a sight that filled him with joy. Walking toward him were Flint, Sturm, Camaron, Raistlin, Tas, and-his heart shivered-even Kitiara. Even as the old elf backed away, Tanis shoved Brandella's note in his tunic and shouted a greeting, leaping up and running happily toward his good and true companions.

46

Flint Finefonge was in the lead, long beard swinging with his step and strong, short arms carrying his battle-axe over one shoulder. The others followed close behind. Tanis didn't notice, at first, that they were not smiling. In fact, had he looked closely, he would have seen that their faces showed precious little expression at all.

"I thought you were all spread to the four winds," Tanis called out as he narrowed the gap between them. None spoke a reply, but he didn't wait for one. He immediately shouted, "How did you find me?"

Again, he received no answer.

It struck Tanis that they must be bringing bad news or they wouldn't be so quiet. Even Tasslehoff Burrfoot seemed subdued-odd in a kender. Tas and Flint hadn't stopped once to bicker.

Tanis tried again. "I didn't expect to see you for five years I" he cried.

As the half-elf drew near, he looked his friends over with approval. They might have been bringing bad news, but he had to marvel at how fine they all looked on this particular day. Even with the memory of Brandella echoing in his mind, he realized that Kit had never been more beautiful. She looked exactly as he pictured her in his mind, both regal and wild, her bright brown eyes flashing with adventure, curls of close-cropped black hair creeping from under her helm. He was particularly pleased that Kit had come with the others, because that meant she'd forgiven him for ending their affair that last night at the Inn. Perhaps they could still be friends.

His eyes quickly scanned the others.

Sturm stood straight and proud, his armor gleaming, Caramon walked with his usual swagger, yet he seemed unusually independent of Raistlin-a change that Tanis viewed with approval. The young mage, himself, never looked healthier; in fact, he looked a bit younger. Tanis often remembered those days, when he and Raistlin were closer friends, with great fondness.

With arms spread wide to greet Flint and the others with claps on the back, Tanis cheerfully charged among them. He was met, in return, by Hint's battle-axe swinging at his head!

Tanis saw it coming and thought it was a joke. He didn't react-at least not right away. It was only when he saw that the weapon was coming at him too fast and too hard to be stopped in time, that he demanded, "What's the matter with you?" and tried to duck out of the way. But it was too late. If he hadn't already had his arm up high to slap Flint on the back, he never would have been able to block the descent of Flint's arm with his own. A blunt edge of the battle-axe hit Tanis in the shoulder, numbing him for a moment.

"Are you crazy?" Tanis demanded.

Flint didn't answer. His normally bright eyes were dull. He merely raised his battle-axe for another try at the half-elf's head.

Tanis turned to the others for help. Instead, Kitiara's blade nearly disemboweled him. Barely twisting out of the way, he demanded, "Why are you doing this7" Shaken and confused, he scrambled backward as the companions, eerily silent, advanced upon him, their weapons held high. The sun beat starkly on the scene. The weeds twisted in a slight breeze that did nothing to abate the heat.

The half-elf looked around wildly. "Why won't any of you speak to me? What's happened to you?"