Although encumbered with the knapsack, which appeared quite heavy, and the sword in a blanket, Gerard set a fast pace. He carried both objects in one hand, keeping the other to prod Tasslehoff in the back if he started to slow down or to grab hold of his collar if he started to wander off or jerk him backward if he made a sudden dart across the road.
One would not have guessed it from looking at him, but Gerard, for all that he was of average height and medium build, was extremely strong.
The Knight was a grim and silent companion. He did not return the cheerful “good mornings” of those heading into Solace, and he coldly rebuffed a traveling tinker who was going in their direction and offered them a seat on his wagon.
He did at least remove the gag from the kender’s mouth.
Tas was thankful. Not as young as he used to be—something he would freely admit—he found that between the fast pace set by the Knight and the constant prodding, tugging, and jerking, he was doing more breathing than his nose alone could manage.
Tas immediately asked all the questions he had been storing up, starting with, “Why is your armor black? I’ve never seen black armor before. Well, yes, I have but it wasn’t on a Knight of Solamnia,” and ending with, “Are we going to walk all the way to Qualinesti, and if we are would you mind not seizing hold of my shirt collar in that very energetic way you have because it’s starting to rub off all my skin.”
Tas soon found out that he could ask all the questions he liked, just so long as he didn’t expect any answers. Sir Gerard made no response except, “Keep moving.”
The Knight was young, after all. Tas felt compelled to point out to him the mistake he was making.
“The very best part of questing,” the kender said, “is seeing the sights along the way. Taking time to enjoy the view and investigating all the interesting things you find along the road and talking to all the people. If you stop to think about it, the goal of the quest, such as fighting the dragon or rescuing the woolly mammoth, takes up only small bit of time, and although it’s always very exciting, there’s a whole lot more time stacked up in front of it and behind it—the getting there and the coming back—which can be very dull if you don’t work at it.”
“I am not interested in excitement,” said Gerard. “I want simply to be done with this and to be done with you. The sooner I am finished the sooner I can do something to achieve my goal.”
“And what’s that?” Tas asked, delighted that the Knight was finally talking to him.
“To join the fighting in defense of Sanction,” Gerard answered, “and when that is done, to free Palanthas from the scourge of the Knights of Neraka.”
“Who are they?” Tas asked, interested.
“They used to be known as the Knights of Takhisis, but they changed their name when it grew clear to them that Takhisis wasn’t coming back anymore.”
“What do you mean, not coming back. Where did she go?”
Tas asked.
Gerard shrugged. “With the other gods, if you believe what people say. Personally I think claiming that the bad times are a result of the gods leaving us is just an excuse for our own failures.”
“The gods left!” Tas’s jaw dropped. “When?”
Gerard snorted. “I’m not playing games with you, kender.”
Tas pondered all that Gerard had told him.
“Don’t you have this whole Knight business backward?” Tas asked finally. “Isn’t Sanction being held by the Dark Knights and Palanthas by your Knights?”
“No, I do not have it backward. More’s the pity,” Gerard said.
Tas sighed deeply. “I’m extremely confused.”
Gerard grunted and prodded the kender, who was slowing down a bit, his legs not being as young as they used to be either.
“Hurry up,” he said. “We don’t have much farther.”
“We don’t?” Task said meekly. “Did they move Qualinesti, too?”
“If you must know, Kender, I have two mounts waiting for us at the Solace bridge. And before you can ask yet another question, the reason we walked from the garrison and did not ride is that the horse I am using is not my customary mount. The animal would have occasioned comment, would have required explanation.”
“I have a horse? A horse of my own! How thrilling! I haven’t ridden a horse in ever so long.” Tasslehoff came to a halt, looked up at the Knight. “I’m terribly sorry I misjudged you. I guess you do understand about adventuring, after all.”
“Keep moving.” Gerard gave him a shove.
A thought occurred to the kender—a truly astonishing thought that took away what little breath he had remaining. He paused to find his breath again and then used it to ask the question the thought had produced.
“You don’t like me, do you, Sir Gerard?” Tas said. He wasn’t angry or accusing, jus.t surprised.
“No,” said Gerard, “I do not.” He took a drink of water from a waterskin and handed the skin to Tas. “If it is any consolation, there is nothing personal in my dislike. I feel this way about all your kind.”
Tas considered this as he drank the water, which was quite tepid and tasted of the waterskin. “Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems to me that I’d much rather be disliked for being me than to be disliked just because I’m a kender. I can do something about me, you see, but I can’t do much about being a kender because my mother was a kender and so was my father and that seems to have a lot to do with me being a kender.
“I might have wanted to be a Knight,” Tas continued, warming to his subject. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I probably did, but the gods must have figured that my mother, being small, couldn’t very well give birth to someone as big as you, not without considerable inconvenience to herself, and so I came out a kender. Actually, no offense, but I take that back about being a Knight. I think what I really wanted to be was a draconian—they are so very fierce and scaly, and they have wings. I’ve always wanted wings. But, of course, that would have been extremely difficult for my mother to have managed.”
“Keep moving,” was all Gerard said in reply.
“I could help you carry that bundle if you’d take off these manacles,” Tas offered, thinking that if he made himself useful, the Knight might come to like him.
“No” Gerard returned, and that was that. Not even a thank you.
“Why don’t you like kender?” Tas pursued. “Flint always said he didn’t like kender, but I know deep down he did. I don’t think Raistlin liked kender much. He tried to murder me once, which gave me sort of a hint as to his true feelings. But I forgave him for that, although I’ll never forgive him for murdering poor Gnimsh, but that’s another story. I’ll tell you that later. Where was I? Oh, yes. I was about to add that Sturm Brightblade was a Knight, and he liked kender, so I was just wondering what you have against us.”
“Your people are frivolous and heedless,” said Gerard, his voice hard. “These are dark days. Life is serious business and should be taken seriously. We do not have the luxury for joy and merriment.”
“But if there’s no joy and merriment, then of course the days will be dark,” Tas argued. “What else do you expect?”
“How much joy did you feel, kender, when you heard the news that hundreds of your people in Kendermore had been slaughtered by the great dragon Malystryx?” Gerard asked grimly,
“and that those who survived were driven from their homes and now seem to be under some sort of curse and are called afflicted because they now know fear and they carry swords, not pouches. Did you laugh when you heard that news, kender, and sing ‘tra la, how merry we are this day’?”