“I thought I might find you here,” he stated.
“I’m not going back,” Tas said, rubbing his head. “Not yet. Not until I talk to Goldmoon.” He looked up at Palin with suspicion. “Why are you here?”
“We were worried about you,” Palin replied.
“I’ll bet” Tas muttered. Sidling away from Palin, he turned back to the door. “Goldmoon!” He knocked again on the door.
“Let me in! It’s me, Tasslehoff!”
“First Master,” Palin added, “I am here with Tas. Something very strange has happened. We would like your wise counsel.”
A moment’s silence, then a voice, muffled from crying, came back, “You must excuse me, Palin, but I am seeing no one at present.”
“Goldmoon,” Palin said, after a moment. “I have very sad news. My father is dead.”
Another moment’s silence, then the voice, strained and hushed. “Caramon dead?”
“He died several weeks ago. His end was peaceful.”
“I came in time to speak at his funeral Goldmoon,” Tasslehoff added. “It’s too bad you missed my speech. But I could give it again if you—”
A terrible cry burst from behind the door. “Oh, fortunate man! Oh,lucky, lucky man!”
Palin looked grim. “Goldmoon!” he called out. “Please let me in!”
Tasslehoff, very subdued and solemn, put his nose to the doorknob.
“Goldmoon,” he said, speaking through the key hole, “I’m very sorry to hear that you’ve been sick. And I was sorry to hear that Riverwind was dead. But I heard he died being a hero and saving my people from the dragon when there were probably quite a few who said that we kender weren’t worth saving. I want you to know that I’m grateful and that I was proud to call Riverwind my friend.”
“This is a shabby trick you play upon me, Palin,” said the voice angrily from inside. “You have inherited your uncle’s gift of rnimickry. Everyone knows that Tasslehoff Burrfoot is dead.”
“No, I’m not” Tas returned. “And that’s the problem. At least it is for some people.” He gave Palin a stern look. “It’s really me, Goldmoon,” Tas continued. “If you put your eye to the keyhole you can see me.”
He waved his hand.
A lock clicked. Slowly, the door opened. Goldmoon stood framed within. Her room was lit by many candles, their glow cast a halo of light around her. The corridor into which she stepped was dark, except for the light of a single red star. She was cloaked in shadows. Tas could not see her.
“First Master. . .” Palin stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
Goldmoon turned, allowed the light from her room to touch her face. “Now, you see. . .” she said softly.
The light of the candles gleamed on hair that was thick and golden and luxuriant, on a face that was soft and smooth, on eyes that, though red with weeping, were blue as the morning sky and shone with the luster of youth. Her body was strong as the days when the Chieftain’s Daughter had first fallen in love with a young warrior named Riverwind. The years Goldmoon had lived in the world numbered ninety, but her body, her hair, her eyes, her voice, her lips and hands were those of the young woman who had carried the blue crystal staff into the Inn of the Last Home.
Beautiful, she stood sorrowfully before them, her head drooping like the bud of a cut rose.
“What miracle is this?” Palin cried, awed.
“No miracle,” said Goldmoon bitterly. “A curse.”
“Are you cursed?” said Tas with interest. “So am I!”
Goldmoon turned to the kender, looked him up and down. “It is you!” she murmured. “I recognized your voice. Why are you here? Where have you been? Why have you come?”
Tasslehoff extended his hand, shook hers politely. “I’d love to tell you all about everything, Goldmoon. All about Caramon’s first funeral and then his second funeral and how I’m cursed. But right now Palin is trying to murder me. I came to see if you would tell him to stop. So if you’ll just speak to him, I’ll be going.”
Tas made a break for it. He had very nearly reached the stairs and was just about to dash down them when Palin’s hand snaked out and snagged him by the collar of his shirt.
Tas wriggled and writhed, trying various kender tricks developed through years of practice at escaping the long arm of irritated sheriffs and irate shopkeepers. He used the old Twist and Bite and the always effective Stomp and Kick, but Palin was proof against them. At last, truly desperate, Tas tried the Lizard. He endeavored to slide his arms out of his shirt sleeves, regretful at having to leave his shirt behind, but, like the lizard who leaves part of his tail in the hand of the would-be captor, he would be free. Unfortunately, the new shirt proved a bit snug, and this didn’t work. Palin was thin, but he was strong and, in addition, he had a strong incentive to hold onto the kender.
“What is he talking about?” Goldmoon asked, staring at Tas in bewilderment. She shifted her gaze to Palin. “Are you trying to murder him?”
“Of course not,” Palin said impatiently.
“ Are too!” Tas muttered, squirming.
“Listen to me, Tas. I’m truly sorry about what happened back there,” Palin said.
He seemed about to continue, then sighed and lowered his head. He looked old, older than Tas remembered, and he’d seen him only a few moments ago. The lines m his face had deepened, darkened, pulled taut; the skin stretched tight across the bones.
He blinked his eyes too frequently and often rubbed them, as if trying to see through a film or mist covering them. Tas—who was set to run—was touched by Palin’s obvious trouble. The kender decided he could at least stay to listen.
“I’m sorry, Tas,” Palin said finally, and his voice was tight as the lines on his face. “I was upset. I was frightened. Jenna was quite angry with me. After you left, she said she didn’t blame you for running. She was right. I should have explained things to you calmly and rationally. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. After what I saw, I panicked.”
He looked down at Tas and sighed deeply. “Tas, I wish there was some other way. You have to understand. I’ll try to explain this as best I can. You were meant to die. And because you haven’t died, it is possible that this is the reason all these terrible things that have happened to the world have happened. To put it another way, if you were dead, the world might be the world you saw the first time you came back to my father’s funeral. Do you understand?”
“No,” said Tas.
Palin regarded the kender with obvious disappoinment. “I’m afraid I can’t explain it any better than that. Perhaps you and Goldmoon and I should discuss it. You don’t need to run away again. I won’t force you to go back.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Palin,” Tas returned, “but you can’t force me to do anything. I have the device, and you don’t.”
Palin regarded the kender with deepening gravity, then suddenly and unexpectedly he smiled. The smile was not quite a whole smile, more a quarter-smile, for it lifted the comers of his thin lips and didn’t come anywhere near his unhappy eyes, but it was a start.
“That is true, Tas,” he said. “You do have the device. You know yourself what is right. You know that you made a promise to Fizban and that he trusted you to keep that promise.”
Palin paused, then said quietly. “Were you aware, Tas, that Caramon spoke at your funeral?”
“He did?” Tas was astonished. “I didn’t even know I had a funeral! I just figured there probably wouldn’t be much of me left, except a bit of goo between the giant’s toes. What did Caramon say? Was there a big turnout? Did Jenna bring cheese puffs?”
“There was an immense turnout,” Palin said. “People came from allover Ansalon to pay their respects to a heroic kender. As for my father, he called you ‘a kender among kender.’ He said that you exemplifed all that was best in the kender race: you were noble, self-sacrificing, brave, and, above all, honorable.”