The north wall of the atrium was made of the rocky slope of the cliff face. Flowers and small trees blossomed, birds sang in the trees. A stream of water ran down the cliff, splashing into many small pools along the way. As each pool varied in depth, the sound of the falling water differed from pool to pool, producing a wondrous harmony of musical sound.
Tasslehoff was quite enchanted with the fact that there was a real waterfall inside the house and he climbed upon the rocks, slipping perilously on the slippery surface. He loudly exclaimed over the wonder of every bird’s nest, uprooted a rare plant while trying to pick its flower and was forcibly removed by Kalindas when the kender insisted on trying to climb clear up to the ceiling.
This was Tasslehoff. The more Palin watched, the more he remembered and the more he became convinced that this kender was the kender he had known well over thirty years ago. He noted that Laurana watched Tas, as well. She watched him with a bewilderment tinged with wonder. Palin supposed it was perfectly plausible that Tasslehoff could have been wandering the world for thirty-eight years and had finally taken it into his head to drop by for a chat with Caramon.
Palin discarded the notion. Another kender might have done so, but not Tasslehoff. He was a unique kender, as Caramon liked to say. Or perhaps, not so unique as all that. Perhaps if they had taken time to come to know another kender, they might have discovered that they were all loyal and compassionate friends. But if Tas had not been roaming the world for almost forty years, than where had he been?
Palin listened attentively to the Knight’s story of Tas’s appearance in the tomb the night of the., storm (most remarkable, Palin made a mental note of this occurrence), Caramon’s recognition, his subsequent death and his last words to Sir Gerard.
“Your father was upset that he could not find his brother Raistlin. He said that Raistlin had promised to wait for him. And then came your father’s dying request, sir,” said Gerard in conclusion. “He asked me to take Tasslehoff to Dalamar. I would have to assume that to be the wizard, Dalamar, of infamous repute?”
“I suppose so,” said Palin evasively, determined to betray nothing of his thoughts.
“According to the Measure, sir, I am honor bound to fulfill a request made by the dying. But since the wizard Dalamar has disappeared and no one has heard from him in many years, I’m not quite certain what to do.”
“Nor am I,” Palin said.
His father’s final words intrigued Palin. He was well aware of his father’s firmly held belief that Raistlin would not depart this mortal plane until his twin had joined him.
“We’re twins, Raist and I,” Caramon would say. “ And because we’re twins, one of us can’t leave this world and move on to the next without the other. The gods granted Raist peace in sleep, but then they woke him up during the Chaos War and it was then that he told me he would wait for me.”
Raistlin had indeed returned from the dead during the Chaos War. He had gone to the Inn of the Last Home and had spent some time with Caramon. During that time, Raistlin had, according to Caramon, sought his brother’s forgiveness. Palin had never questioned his father’s faith in his faithless brother, though he had privately thought that Caramon was indulging a wishful thinking.
Still Palin did not feel he had the right to try to dissuade Caramon of his belief. After all, none could say for certain what happened to the souls of those who died.
“The kender maintains that he traveled forward in time and that he came here with the help of the magical device.” Gerard shook his head, smiled. “At least it’s the most original excuse I’ve heard from one of the little thieves.”
“It’s not an excuse,” Tas said loudly. He had attempted to interrupt Gerard at several key points in the story, until finally the knight had threatened to gag him again if he wasn’t quiet. “I didn’t steal the device. Fizban gave it to me. And I did travel forward in time. Twice. The first time I was late and the second time I . . . don’t know what happened.”
“Let me see the magical artifact, Sir Gerard,” Palin said. “Perhaps that will help us arrive at an answer.”
“I’ll show you!” Tas offered eagerly. He fumbled about in his pockets, looked down his shirtfront, felt all about his pant legs. “I know it’s here somewhere. . .”
Palin looked accusingly at the knight. “If this artifact is as valuable as you describe, sir, why did you allow it to remain in the kender’s possession? If it is still in his possession—”
“I didn’t, sir,” Gerard said defensively. “I’ve taken it away from him I don’t know how many times. The artifact keeps going back to him. He says that’s how it works.”
Palin’s heartbeat quickened. His blood warmed. His hands, that seemed always cold and numb, tingled with life. Laurana had risen involuntarily to her feet.
“Palin! You don’t suppose. . .” she began.
“I found it!” Tas announced in triumph. He dragged the artifact out of his boot. “Would you like to hold it, Palin? It won’t hurt you or anything.”
The artifact had been small enough to fit inside the kender’s small boot. Yet as Tas held it out, the kender had to hold the device with both hands. Yet Palin had not seen it change shape or enlarge. It was as if it was always the shape and size it was meant to be, no matter what the circumstances. If anything changed, it was the viewer’s perception of the artifact, not the artifact itself.
Jewels of antiquity—rubies, sapphires, diamonds and emeralds—Sparkled and glittered in the sunlight, catching the sunbeams and transforming them into smears of rainbow light splashed on the walls and the floor and shining up from the kender’s cupped hands.
Palin started to reach out his own crippled hands to hold the device, then he hesitated. He was suddenly afraid. He did not fear that the artifact might do him some harm. He knew perfectly well it wouldn’t. He had seen the artifact when he was a boy. His father had shown it off proudly to his children. In addition, Palin recognized the device from his studies when he was a youth. He had seen drawings of it in the books in the Tower of High Sorcery.
This was the Device of Time Journeying, one of the greatest and most powerful of all the artifacts ever created by the masters of the Towers. It would not harm him, yet it would do him terrible, irrevocable damage.
Palin knew from experience the pleasure he would feel when he touched the artifact: he would sense the old magic, the pure magic, the loved magic, the magic that came to him untainted, freely given, a gift of faith, a blessing from the gods. He would sense the magic, but only faintly, as one senses the smell of rose leaves, pressed between the pages of a book, their sweet fragrance only a memory. And because it was only a memory, after the pleasure would come the pain—the aching, searing pain of loss.
But he could not help himself. He said to himself, “Perhaps this time I will be able to hold onto it. Perhaps this time with this artifact, the magic will come back to me.”
Palin touched the artifact with trembling, twisted fingers.
Glory. . . brilliance. . . surrender. . .
Palin cried out, his broken fingers clenched over the artifact.
The jewels cut into the flesh of his hand.
Truth. . . beauty. . . art. . . life. . .
Tears burned his eyelids, slid down his cheeks.
Death. . . loss. . . emptiness. . .
Palin sobbed harshly, bitterly for what was lost. He wept for his father’s death, wept for the three moons that had vanished from the sky, wept for his broken hands, wept for his own betrayal of all that he had believed in, wept for his own inconstancy, his own desperate need to try to find the ecstasy again.