Lord Warren had withdrawn his hands from the desk. The object was about the size of an egg, encrusted with jewels that sparkled and glowed. Close examination revealed it to be made up of a myriad small parts that looked as if they could be manipulated, moved about. Lord Warren eyed it warily. Gerard kept fast hold of the kender.
The sun sank down toward the horizon and now shone brightly through the window. The office was cool and shadowed.
The object glittered and gleamed, its own small sun.
“I have never seen the like of it,” said Lord Warren, awed.
“Nor have I, sir,” said Gerard. “But Laura has.”
Lord Warren looked up, startled.
“She said that her father had an object like this. He kept it locked in a secret place in a room in the Inn that is dedicated to the memory of his twin brother Raistlin. She remembers well the day, some months prior to the Chaos War, when he removed the object from its secret hiding place and gave it to . . .” Gerard paused.
“Dalamar?” said Lord Warren, astounded. He stared at the device again. “Did her father say what it did? What magic it possessed ?”
“He said that the object had been given to him by Par-Salian and that he had traveled back in time by means of its magic.”
“He did, too,” Tasslehoff offered. “I went with him. That’s how I knew how the device worked. You see, it occurred to me that I might not outlive Caramon—”
Lord Warren said a single word, said it with emphasis and sincerity. Tas was impressed. Knights didn’t usually say words like that.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Lord Warren had shifted his gaze. He began staring at Tas as if he’d sprouted two heads.
Obviously he’s never seen a troll. These people should really get out more, Tas thought.
“Do you think this is the real Tasslehoff Burrfoot?”
“Caramon Majere believed it was, my lord.”
Lord Warren looked back at the strange device. “It is obviously an ancient artifact. No wizard has the ability to make magical objects like this these days. Even I can feel its power, and I’m certainly no mage, for which I thank fate.” He looked back at Tas.
“No, I don’t believe it’s possible. This kender stole it, and he has devised this outlandish tale to conceal his crime.
“We must return the artifact to the wizards, of course, though not, I would say, to the wizard Dalamar.” Lord Warren frowned.
“ At the very least the device should be kept out of the hands of the kender. Where is Palin Majere? It seems to me that he is the one to consult.” .
“But you can’t stop the device from coming back to my hands,” Tas pointed out. “It’s meant to always come back to me, and it will, sooner or later. Par-Salian—the great Par-Salian, I met him once, you know. He was very respectful to kender. Very.” Tas fixed Gerard with a stern eye, hoping the Knight would take the hint. “Anyhow, Par-Salian told Caramon that the device was magically designed to always return to the person who used it. That’s a safety precaution, so that you don’t end up stranded back in time with no way of going back home. It’s come in quite handy, since I have a tendency to lose things. I once lost a woolly mammoth. The way it happened was—”
“I agree, my lord,” Gerard said loudly. “Be silent, kender. Speak when you are spoken to.” .
“Excuse me,” said Tas, beginning to be bored. “But if you’re not going to listen to me, may I go look at your maps? I’m very fond of maps.”
Lord Warren waved his hand. Tas wandered off and was soon absorbed in reading the maps, which were really lovely, but which, the more he looked at them, he found very puzzling.
Gerard dropped his voice so low that Tas had a difficult time hearing him. “Unfortunately, my lord, Palin Majere is on a secret mission to the elven kingdom of Qualinesti, to consult with the elven sorcerers. Such meetings have been banned by the dragon Beryl, and if his whereabouts became known to her, she would exact terrible retribution.”
“Yet, it seems to me that he must know of this immediately!”
Lord Warren argued.
“He must also know of his father’s death. If you will grant me leave, my lord, I will undertake to escort the kender and this device to Qualinesti, there to put both of them in the hands of Palin Majere and also to impart the sad news about his father. I will relate to Palin his father’s dying request and ask him to judge whether or not it may undertaken. I have little doubt but that he will absolve me of it.”
Lord Warren’s troubled expression eased. “You are right. We should put the matter into the hands of the son. If he declares his father’s last request impossible to fulfill, you may, with honor, decline it. I wish you didn’t have to go to Qualinesti, however. Wouldn’t it be more prudent to wait until the wizard returns?”
“There is no telling when that will be, my lord. Especially now that Beryl has closed the roads. I believe this matter to be of the utmost urgency. Also”—Gerard lowered his voice—“we would have difficulty keeping the kender here indefinitely.”
“Fizban told me to come right back to my own time,” Tas informed them. “I’m not to go gallivanting. But I would like to see Palin and ask him why the funeral was all wrong. Do you think that could be considered’ gallivanting’?”
“Qualinesti lies deep in Beryl’s territory,” Lord Warren was saying. “The land is ruled by the Knights of Neraka, who would be only too pleased to lay their hands on one of our order. And if the Knights of Neraka don’t seize you and execute you as a spy, the elves will. An army of our Knights could not enter that realm and survive.”
“I do not ask for an army, my lord. I do not ask for any escort,”
Gerard said firmly. “I would prefer to travel on my own. Much prefer it,” he added with emphasis. “I ask you for leave from my duties for a time, my lord.”
“Granted, certainly.” Lord Warren shook his head. “Though I don’t know what your father will say.”
“He will say that he is proud of his son, for you will tell him that I am undertaking a mission of the utmost importance, that I do it to fulfill the last request of a dying man.”
“You are putting yourself in danger,” said Lord Warren. “He would not like that at all. And as for your mother—” He frowned ominously.
Gerard stood straight and tall. “I have been ten years a Knight, my lord, and all I have to show for it is the dust of a tomb on my boots. I have earned this, my lord.”
Lord Warren rose to his feet. “Here is my ruling. The Measure holds the final wishes of the dying to be sacred. We are bound in honor to fulfill them if it be mortally possible. You will go to Qualinesti and consult with the sorcerer Palin. I have found him to be a man of good judgment and common sense—for a mage, that is. One must not expect too much. Still, I believe that you can rely on him to help you determine what is right. Or, at the very least, to take the kender and this stolen magical artifact off our hands.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Gerard looked extremely happy.
Of course he’s happy, Tasslehoff thought. He gets to travel to a land ruled by a dragon who’s closed all the roads, and maybe he’ll be captured by Dark Knights who’ll think he’s a spy, and if that doesn’t work out he gets to go to the elven kingdom and see Palin and Laurana and Gilthas.
The pleasant tingle so well known to kender, a tingle to which they are seriously addicted, began in the vicinity of Tasslehoff’s spine. The tingle burned its way right down to his feet, which started to itch, shot through his arms into his fingers, which started to wriggle, and up into his head. He could feel his hair beginning to curl from the excitement.
The tingle wound up in Tasslehoff’s ears and, due to the rushing of the blood in his head, he noticed that Fizban’s admonition to return soon was starting to get lost amidst thoughts of Dark Knights and spies and, most important of all, The Road.