Dragons of a Fallen Sun, page 42
“Gone. All of it. I stood amidst the ether and saw the battle with Chaos, but when I tried to see beyond, when I looked into the past, I saw only darkness. I took a step and . . . “ He shuddered. “I fell into the darkness. A void where no light shines, no light has ever shone. Darkness that is eternal, everlasting. I had the feeling that I was falling through centuries of time and that I would continue to fall until death took me, and then my corpse would keep falling. . . .”
“If that is true, what does it mean?” Jenna pondered.
“I’ll tell you what it means,” Palin said raggedly. He pointed at Tasslehoff. “This is Tas’s fault. Everything that has happened is his fault.”
“Why? What does he have to do with it?”
“Because he’s not dead!” Palin said, hissing the words through clenched teeth. “He changed time by not dying! The future he saw was the future that happened because he died and by his death, we were able to defeat Chaos. But he’s not dead! We didn’t defeat Chaos. The Father of All and Nothing banished his children, the gods, and these past forty years of death and tunnoil have been the result!”
Jenna looked at Tas. Palin was looking at Tas, this time as if he’d grown five heads, wings and a tail.
“Let’s all have another drink of brandy,” Tas suggested, taking his own advice. “Just to make us feel better. Clear our heads,” he added pointedly.
“You could be right, Palin,” Jenna said thoughtfully.
“I know I’m right!” he said grimly.
“And we all know that two rights make a wrong,” Tas observed helpfully. “Would anyone like oatmeal?”
“What other explanation could there be?” Palin continued, ignoring the kender.
“I’m not sure,” said Tas, backing up a few steps toward the kitchen door, “but if you give me a moment, I’ll bet I could think of several.”
Palin threw off the blanket and rose to his feet. “We have to send Tas back to die.”
“Palin, I’m not so sure. . .” Jenna began, but he wasn’t listening to her.
“Where’s the device?” he demanded feverishly. “What happened to it?”
“While it is true,” Tas said, “that I had promised Fizban I would go back in time for the giant to step on me, the more I think about that part of it, the less I like it. For while being stepped on by a giant might be extremely interesting, it would be interesting for only a few seconds at most, and then as you said I would be dead.”
Tas bumped up against the kitchen door.
“And while I’ve never been dead,” he continued, “I’ve seen people being dead before, and I must say that it looks like about the most uninteresting thing that could happen to a person.”
“Where is the device?” Palin demanded.
“It rolled into the ashes!” Tas cried and pointed at the fireplace. He took another gulp of brandy.
“I’ll look,” Jenna offered. Seizing the poker, she began to sift through the ashes.
Palin peered over her shoulder. “We must find it!”
Tasslehoff put his hand in his pocket and, taking hold of the Device of Time Journeying, he began to turn it and twist it and slide it, all the while speaking the rhyme under his breath.
“ ‘Thy time is thy own, though across it you travel. . .’
“Are you sure it went under here, Tas?” Jenna asked. “Because I can’t see anything except cinders—”
Tas spoke faster, his nimble fingers working swiftly.
“ ‘Whirling across forever. Obstruct not its flow,’ ” he whispered.
This was going to be the tricky part.
Palin’s head jerked up. Turning around, he made a diving leap for the kender.
Tas whipped the device out of his pocket and held it up. “Destiny be over your own head!” he cried, and he was pleased to realize, as time rolled up the kitchen, the brandy flask, and him along with it, that he had just made a very pithy remark.
“The little weasel,” said Jenna, looking at the empty place on the floor where the kender had once been standing. “So he had the device all along.”
“My gods!” Palin gasped, “what have I done?”
“Scared the oatmeal out of him, unless I’m much mistaken,” Jenna returned. “Which is quite an accomplishment, considering he’s a kender. I don’t blame him,” she added, scrubbing her sootcovered hands vigorously on a towel. “If you had shouted at me like that, I would have run, too.”
“I’m not a monster,” Palin said, exasperated. “I am scared! I don’t mind admitting it.” He pressed his hand over his heart. “The fear is here, worse than anything I’ve ever known, even during the dark days of my captivity. Something strange and terrible has happened to the world, Jenna and I don’t understand what!” His fists clenched. “The kender is the cause. I’m sure of it!”
“If so, we better find him,” said Jenna practically. “Where do you think he would have gone? Not back in time?”
“If he has, we’ll never locate him. But I don’t think he would,” Palin said, pondering. “He wouldn’t go back because if he did, he’d wind up exactly where he doesn’t want to be— dead. I believe he’s still in the present. Then where would he go?”
“To someone who would protect him from you,” said Jenna bluntly.
“Goldmoon,” said Palin. “He talked about wanting to see her only moments before he left. Or Laurana. He’s already been to see Laurana. Knowing Tas, though, he’d want some new adventure. I will travel to the Citadel of Light. I would like to discuss what I have seen with Goldmoon anyhow.”
“I’ll loan you one of my magical rings to speed you across the miles,” Jenna said, tugging the ring off her finger. “Meanwhile, I will send a message to Laurana, warning her to watch for the kender and if he shows up on her doorstep, to hang onto him.”
Palin accepted the ring. “Warn her to be cautious of what she says and does,” he added, his expression troubled. “I believe that there may be a traitor in her household. Either that or the Neraka Knights have found some way to spy on her. Will you. . .” He paused, swallowed. “Will you stop by the Inn and tell Usha . . . tell her. . . “
“I’ll tell her you’re not a monster,” said Jenna, patting his arm with a smile. She looked at him intently, frowning in anxiety. “ Are you certain you are well enough for this?”
“I was not injured. Only shocked. I can’t say that’s wearing off, but I’ll be well enough to make the journey.” He looked curiously at the ring. “How does this work?”
“Not all that well anymore, “Jenna wryly. lilt will take you two or three jumps to reach your destination. Place the ring on the middle finger of your left hand. That’s close enough,” she added, seeing Palin struggle to ease it over a swollen joint. “Put your right hand over the ring and conjure up the image of where you want to be. Keep that image in your mind, repeat it to yourself over and over again. I want that ring back, by the way.”
“Certainly.” He smiled at her wanly. “Farewell” Jenna. Thank you for your help. I’ll keep you informed.”
He placed his hand over the ring and began to picture in his mind the cry tal rainbow domes of the Citadel of Light.
“Palin,” Jenna said suddenly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I may have an idea where to find Dalamar.”
“Good,” Palin replied. “My father was right. We need him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE HEDGE MAGE
The gnome was lost in the hedge maze.
This was nothing unusual. The gnome was frequently lost in the hedge maze. In fact, whenever anyone in the Citadel of Light wanted the gnome (which wasn’t often) and asked where he was, the response was invariably, “Lost in the hedge maze.”
The gnome did not wander the hedge maze aimlessly. Far from it. He entered the hedge maze daily with a set purpose, a mission, and that was to make a map of the maze. The gnome, who belonged to the Guild of PuzzlesRiddlesEnigmasRebusLogogriphsMonogramsAnagramsAcrosticsCrosswordsMazesLabyrinthsParadoxesScrabbleFeminineLogicandPoliticians, otherwise known as P3 for short, knew of a certainty that if he could map the hedge maze, he would find in that map the key to the Great Mysteries of Life, among these being: Why Is It That When You Wash Two Socks You Only End Up With One? Is There Life After Death? and Where Did The Other Sock Go? The gnome was convinced that if you found the answer to the second question you would also find the answer to the third.
In vain the mystics of the Citadel attempted to explain to him that the hedge maze was magical. Those who entered it with minds troubled or sad found their cares eased, their burdens lifted. Those who entered it seeking solitude and peace were not disturbed, no matter how many other people walked the fragrant hedgerows at the same moment. Those who entered seeking a solution to a problem found that their thoughts grew centered, their minds cleared of clutter. Those who entered on their mystical journey to climb the Silver Stair that stood in the center of the maze found that they did not journey through a maze of shrubbery, but through the maze of their hearts.
Those who entered the hedge maze with the firm resolve to map out the hedge maze, to try to define it in terms of X number of rows and left and right turnings and longitudes and latitudes and degrees of angles and radiuses and circumferences discovered that here mathematics need not apply. The hedge maze shifted beneath the compass, skittered out from underneath the ruler, defied all calculation.
The gnome, whose name (the short version) was Conundrum, refused to listen. He entered the hedge maze every day, convinced that this would be the day he solved the mystery. This would be the day he would achieve his Life Quest and produce the definitive map of the hedge maze, a map he would then copy and sell to tour groups.
With one quill pen stuck behind his ear and another through the bosom of his robe, rather as if he’d been stabbed, the gnome would enter the hedge maze in the morning and work feverishly all during the hours of sunlight. He would measure and count his steps, note down the elevation of the hedge at Point A, indicate where Point A converged with Point B, and cover himself in ink and perspiration. He would emerge at the end of the day glowing with pride, with bits of the hedge stuck in his hair and beard, and produce for the edification of any poor unfortunate he could coerce into viewing his project an ink-spattered and sweatstained map of the hedge maze.
He would then spend the night copying the map so that it was perfect, absolutely perfect, not a twig missing. Next morning he would take the map into the hedge maze and become immediately and hopelessly lost. He would manage to find his way out about noontime, which just gave him daylight enough to redraw his map-and so forth and so on daily for about a year now.
On this day Conundrum had worked his way through the hedge maze to about the halfway point. He was down on his knees, tape in hand, measuring the angle between a zig and a zag when he noted a foot blocking his way. The foot was encased in a boot that was attached to a leg that was attached— on looking up— to a kender.
“Excuse me,” said the kender politely, “but I’m lost and I was wondering—”
“Lost! Lost!” Conundrum scrambled to his feet, overturning his ink jar, which left a large purple stain on the grassy path. Sobbing, the gnome flung his arms around the kender. “How gratifying! I’m so glad! So glad! You can’t know!”
“There, there,” said the kender, patting the gnome on the back. “I’m certain that whatever it is, it will be all right. Have you a hankie? Here, borrow mine. Actually, it’s Palin’s, but I don’t suppose he’d care.”
“Thank you,” said the gnome, blowing his nose.
Generally gnomes talk extremely fast and mash all their words together, one on top of the other, in the belief that if you don’t reach the end of a sentence quickly you might never reach it all. Conundrum had lived among humans long enough to have learned to slow his speech pattern. He now talked very slowly and haltingly, which led other gnomes he encountered to consider him quite stupid.
“I’m sorry I fell apart like that.” The gnome sniffed. “It’s just, I’ve been working so long, and no one has been kind enough to get lost before. . .” He started to weep again.
“Glad I could oblige,” said the kender hurriedly. “Now that I am lost, I was wondering if you could show me the way out. You see, I have just arrived through magical means” —the kender was quite proud of this and repeated it to make certain the gnome was impressed— “magical means that are quite secret and mysterious, otherwise I’d tell you about them. Anyhow my business is extremely urgent. I’m looking for Goldmoon. I have a feeling she must be here because I thought about her very hard just as the magic happened. My name is Tasslehoff Burrfoot, by the way.”
“Conundrum Solitaire,” replied the gnome, and the two shook hands, after which Tasslehoff completed the ruin of Palin’s handkerchief by using it to wipe the residual ink left on his fingers.
“I can show you the way out!” the gnome added eagerly. “I have drawn this map, you see.” Proudly, with a flourish of his hand, Conundrum presented the map to Tasslehoff’s view. Drawn on an immense piece of parchment, the map lay on the ground, covering the path between the two hedge rows, overlapping on the edges. The map was bigger than the gnome, who was a smallish, misty-eyed, dimly smiling gnome with a nut-brown complexion and a long wispy beard that had probably once been white but was now stained purple due to the fact that the gnome invariably dragged his beard through the wet ink as he bent on hands and knees over the map.
The map was quite complicated, with Xs and Arrows and Do Not Enters and Turn Left Heres scrawled allover it in Common. Tasslehoff looked down at the map. Looking up, he saw the end of the row in which they were standing. The hedge opened up and he could see the sun shining on several very beautiful crystalline domed structures that caught the sunlight and turned it into rainbows. Two golden dragons formed an immense archway. The grounds were green and filled with flowers. People dressed in white robes strolled around, talking in low voices.
“Oh, that must be the way out!” said Tasslehoff. “Thanks all the same.”
The gnome looked at his map and looked at what was undeniably the exit from the hedge maze.
“Drat,” he said and began to stomp on the map.
“I’m extremely sorry,” said Tas, feeling guilty. “It was a really nice map.”
“Hah!” Conundrum jumped up and down on the map.
“Well, excuse me, but I’ve got to go,” Tasslehoff said, inching toward the exit. “But once I have talked to Goldmoon, I’ll be glad to come back and get lost again, if that will help.”
“Bah!” cried the gnome, kicking the ink jar into the hedge.
The last Tasslehoff saw of Conundrum, he was back at the beginning of the hedge maze, measuring his foot with the tape in preparation to pace off the precise distance between the first turning and the second. Tas walked a good distance, leaving the hedge maze far behind. He was about to wander into a lovely building made of sparkling crystal when he heard footsteps behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Have you business in the Citadel of Light, kender?” asked a voice, speaking Common.
“The where?” said Tasslehoff. “Oh, yes. Of course.”
Quite accustomed to having the heavy hand of the law fall on his shoulder, he was not surprised to find himself in the custody of a tall young woman of stern expression wearing a helm of silver chain mail and a chain-mail shirt that glittered in the sun. She wore a long tabard marked with the symbol of the sun and carried a sword in a silver scabbard, girded around her waist.
“I’m here to see Goldmoon, ma’am,” Tasslehoff said politely. “My business is urgent. Quite urgent. If you could just show me where—”
“What do you have here, Guardian?” asked another voice.
“Trouble?”
Tasslehoff twisted his head to see another woman clad in armor, except that she was wearing the armor of a Solamnic Knight. Two more Solamnic Knights walked on either side of her as she proceeded up the walkway.
“I am not certain, Lady Camilla,” replied the guard, saluting.
“This kender has asked to see Goldmoon.”
The two exchanged glances and it seemed to Tas that a shadow crossed the face of the lady Knight. “What does a kender want of the First Master?”
“The who?” Tas wondered.
“Goldmoon, the First Master.”
“I’m an old friend of hers,” Tas said. He held out his hand.
“My name is . . .” He paused. He was growing extremely tired of people staring at him oddly whenever he said his name. He withdrew his hand. “It’s not important. If you’ll just tell me where to find Goldmoon . . .”
Neither of the women answered, but Tas, watching closely, saw the Solamnic Knight glance in the direction of the largest crystal dome. He guessed at once that this was where he needed to be.
“You both look very busy,” he said, edging away. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. If you’ll excuse me. . .” He made a dash for it.
“Should I go after him, sir?” he heard the guard ask the Knight.
“No, leave him be,” Lady Camilla replied. “The First Master has a soft spot in her heart for kender.”
“But he might disturb her solitude,” the guard said.
“I would give him thirty steel pieces, if he could,” Lady Camilla replied.
The lady Knight was fifty years old, a handsome woman, hale and hearty, though her black hair was streaked with silver. Stern of countenance, grim and stoic, she did not appear to be the sort of person given to displays of emotion. Yet Tas heard her say this with a sigh.
Tas reached to the door of the crystal dome and halted, fully expecting someone to come out and tell him he shouldn’t be there. Two white-robed men did emerge, but they only smiled at him and wished him a good afternoon.
“And a good afternoon to you, sirs,” Tas said, bowing. “By the way, I’m lost. What building is this?”
“The Grand Lyceum,” said one.
