Knights armed with halberds stood guard at the gate, but it was an elf, clad all in green cloth and glittering chain mail, who walked up to question them. He was followed by an officer of the Knights of Neraka, who stood behind the elf, observing.
The elf regarded the two, particularly the kender, with disdain.
“The elven realm of Qualinesti is closed to all travelers by orders of Gilthas, Speaker of the Sun,” said the elf, speaking Common. “What is your business here?”
Gerard smiled to indicate that he appreciated the joke. “I have urgent news for Marshal Medan,” he said, and reaching into his black leather gauntlet he brought out a well-worn paper which he handed over with bored air of one who has done this many times before.
The elf did not even glance at the paper, but passed it to the officer of the Neraka Knights. The officer paid more attention to it. He studied it closely and then studied Gerard. The officer returned the paper to Gerard, who retrieved it and placed it back inside his glove.
“What business have you with Marshal Medan, Captain?” the officer inquired.
“I have something he wants, sir,” Gerard replied. He jerked a thumb. “This kender.”
The officer raised his eyebrows. “What does Marshal Medan want with a kender?”
“There is a warrant for the little thief, sir. He stole an important artifact from the Knights of the Thorn. A magical artifact that once purportedly belonged to Raistlin Majere.”
The elf’s eyes flickered at this. He regarded them with more interest.
“I’ve heard nothing of any bounty,” the officer stated, frowning. “Or any robbery, for that matter.”
“That is not surprising, sir, considering the Gray Robes,”
Gerard said with a wry smile and a covert glance around.
The officer nodded and twitched an eyebrow. The Gray Robes were sorcerers. They worked in secret, reporting to their own officers, working to forward their own goals and ambitions, which might or might not coincide with the rest of the Knighthood. As such, they were widely distrusted by the warrior Knights, who viewed the Knights of the Thorn with the same suspicion that men of the sword have viewed men of the staff for centuries.
“Tell me of this crime,” the officer said. “When and where was it committed?”
“As you know, the Gray Robes have been combing the Forest of Wayreth, searching for the magical and elusive Tower of High Sorcery. It was during this search that they uncovered this artifact. I do not know how or where, sir. That information was not provided to me. The Gray Robes were transporting the artifact to Palanthas for further study, when they stopped at an inn for some refreshment along the way. It was there the artifact was stolen. The Gray Robes missed it the next morning when they awoke,”
Gerard added with a meaningful roll of his eyes. “This kender had stolen it.”
“So that’s how I got it!” Tas said to himself, fascinated. “What a perfectly wonderful adventure. Too bad I can’t remember it.”
The officer nodded his head. “Damn Gray Robes. Dead drunk, no doubt. Carrying a valuable artifact. Just like their arrogance.”
“Yes, sir. The criminal fled with his booty to Palanthas. We were told to be on the lookout for a kender who might try to fence stolen artifacts. We watched the mageware shops, and that was how we caught him. And a weary journey I’ve had of it to bring him back here, guarding the little fiend day and night.”
Tas attempted to look quite fierce.
“I can imagine.” The officer was sympathetic. “Was the artifact recovered?”
“I am afraid not, sir. He claims to have ‘lost’ it, but the fact that he was discovered in the mageware shop led us to believe that he has stashed it somewhere with the intent to produce it when he had closed a bargain. The Thorn Knights plan to question him regarding its whereabouts. Otherwise, of course”—Gerard shrugged—“we could have spared ourselves the trouble. We would have simply hung the thieving nit.”
“The headquarters for the Thorns is down south. They’re still looking for that damned tower. A waste of time, if you ask me. Magic is gone from the world again and I say good riddance.”
“Yes, sir,” Gerard replied. “I was instructed to report to Marshal Medan first, this being under his jurisdiction, but if you think I should proceed directly—”
“Report to Medan, by all means. If nothing else, he will get a good laugh out of the story. Do you need help with the kender? I have a man I could spare—”
“Thank you, sir. As you can see, he is well-secured. I anticipate no trouble.”
“Ride on, then, Captain,” said the officer, indicating with a wave of his hand that the gate was to be lifted. “Once you’ve delivered the vermin, ride back this way. We’ll open a bottle of dwarf spirits, and you will tell me of the news from Palanthas.”
“I will do that, sir,” said Gerard, saluting.
He rode through the gate. Tasslehoff, bound and gagged, followed. The kender would have waved his manacled hands in a friendly good-bye, but he considered that this might not be in keeping with his new identity—Highwayman, Stealer of Valuable Magical Artifacts. He quite liked this new persona and decided he should try to be worthy of it. Therefore, instead of waving, he scowled defiantly at the knight as they rode past.
The elf had been standing in the road all this time, maintaining a deferential and bored silence. He did not even wait until the gate was lowered to go back to the gatehouse. The twilight had deepened to night and torches were being lit. Tasslehoff, peering over his shoulder as the pony clattered across the wooden bridge, saw the elf squat down beneath a torch and draw out a leather bag. A couple of the Knights knelt down in the dirt and they began a game of dice. The last Tas saw of them, the officer had joined them, bringing with him a bottle. Few travelers passed this way since the dragon now patrolled the roads. Their watch was a lonely one.
Tasslehoff indicated by various grunts and squeaks that he would be interested in talking about their successful adventure at the gate—in particular he wanted to hear more details about his daring theft—but Gerard paid no attention to the kender. He did not ride off at a gallop, but, once he was out of sight of the bridge he urged Blackie to increase his pace markedly.
Tasslehoff assumed that they would ride all night. They were not far from Qualinost, or at least so he remembered from his previous journeys to the elven capital. A couple of hours would find them in the city. Tas was eager to see his friends once again, eager to ask them if they had any idea who he was, if he wasn’t himself.
If anyone could cure magnesia, it would be Palin. Tasslehoff was extremely surprised when Gerard suddenly reined in his horse and, professing himself exhausted by the long day, announced that they would spend the night in the forest.
They made camp, building a fire, much to the kender’s astonishment, for the Knight had refused to build a fire prior to this, saying that it was too dangerous.
“I guess he figures we’re safe now that we’re inside the borders of Qualinesti.” Tasslehoff spoke to himself, for he was still wearing the gag. “I wonder why we stopped though? Maybe he doesn’t know how close we are.”
The Knight fried some salt pork. The aroma spread throughout the forest. He removed Tasslehoff’s gag so that the kender could eat and was instantly sorry he’d done so.
“How did I steal the artifact?” Tas asked eagerly. “That’s so exciting. I’ve never stolen anything before, you know. Stealing is extremely wrong. But I guess in this case it would be all right, since the Dark Knights are bad people. What inn was it? There are quite a few on the road to Palanthas. Was it the Dirty Duck? That’s a great place. Everyone stops there. Or maybe the Fox and the Unicorn? They don’t much like kender, so probably not.”