Kith-Kanan stared. Shading his eyes, he realized that the four dark figures were Kagonesti males. They were brown-skinned, hard-muscled, and wore breechcloths of deerskin. Bows, quivers of arrows, and deerskin bags were slung over their muscled backs. Their exposed skin was covered by red, yellow, and blue loops and whorls of paint.
The tallest of the four—he topped Kith-Kanan by several inches—had a streak of white in his midnight-black hair. He and his comrades were looking at the Silvanesti nobleman with amused curiosity.
Naked and still damp from his swim, Kith-Kanan drew the tattered shreds of his dignity about himself. He pulled on his clothes as Mackeli came out of the pool and greeted the four strange elves.
“Blessings of Astarin upon you, White-Lock, you and yours,” Mackeli said. He placed his hands over his heart and then held them in front of him, palms up.
The Kagonesti called White-Lock repeated the gesture. “And upon you, Mackeli,” he said to the boy, in a deep and solemn voice, though he continued to watch Kith-Kanan. “Do you now bring the Settled Ones to the sacred forests?”
Kith-Kanan knew that the term “Settled Ones” was meant as an insult. The Kagonesti were nomadic and never built permanent habitations. Before he could retort, Mackeli said, “Kith is my friend and my guest, White-Lock. Do the People no longer value courtesy to guests?”
A smile quirked White-Lock’s lips and he said, “Blessings of Astarin upon you, guest of Mackeli.”
“Would you and your hunting party honor me with a visit, White-Lock?” Mackeli asked. He pulled his clothes on.
White-Lock glanced at his companions. Kith-Kanan neither saw nor heard any exchange between them, but the tall Kagonesti said, “My companions and I do not wish to intrude upon the Keeper of the Forest.”
“It is no intrusion,” Mackeli replied politely.
Kith-Kanan was mildly surprised at the change that seemed to have come over the irrepressible boy. He spoke to the Kagonesti in a very composed and adult manner. They, in turn, treated him with great respect. Mackeli went on. “The keeper is away at present. Were she here, I know she would wish to make you welcome. Come, we can share stories. I have had a great adventure since we last met.”
White-Lock looked once more to his three companions. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and they all set out for the clearing.
As they walked, Kith-Kanan brought up the rear and studied these new acquaintances. In his travels around the western provinces of Silvanesti, he had met several Kagonesti. Those elves, however, had given up their nomadic and isolated ways to trade with the humans and Silvanesti who lived in the West. Many of them no longer painted their bodies, and they wore civilized clothing. These four were obviously not of that ilk.
As they made their way to the clearing, Mackeli introduced Kith-Kanan to the others in the group. There was Sharp-Eye, brown-haired and some inches shorter than White-Lock; Braveheart, who had sandy hair; and Otter. The latter was shorter than the rest, a head shorter than Kith-Kanan, and his pale yellow eyes twinkled with inner mirth. He was the only one who smiled outright at the elf prince. It was a merry smile, and Kith-Kanan returned it.
In the clearing, Mackeli bade them all be seated by the oak. He went inside and returned shortly with nuts, berries, and fruit. White-Lock took only a handful of red berries, though his comrades dug in with gusto.
“So, guest of Mackeli, how do you come to be in the wildwood?” White-Lock asked, staring at the Silvanesti prince.
Kith-Kanan frowned. “I am a traveler, White-Lock. And my name is Kith. You would honor me by using it,” he replied testily.
White-Lock nodded and looked pleased. Kith-Kanan remembered then that the more primitive Kagonesti didn’t believe it was polite to use a person’s name unless they’d been given leave to. He cudgeled his brain, trying to recall what else he knew about their race.
“White-Lock!” called a startled voice behind Kith-Kanan. “What in the name of the forest is this?”
They turned. The one called Otter was standing at the far end of the clearing, staring in awe at Arcuballis. The griffon was lying in the shade of a big tree. The beast opened one golden eye and regarded the amazed Kagonesti.
“That is Arcuballis,” Kith-Kanan said proudly. With an inward smile, he uttered a sharp whistle. Arcuballis got quickly to its feet, and Otter nearly fell over backward as he stumbled away from the tall beast. Kith-Kanan gave another whistle, at first high-pitched, then sliding down the scale. The griffon unfolded its wings to their full extent and uttered a trilling call in imitation of Kith-Kanan’s whistle. Otter jumped back again. At another whistle from the prince, Arcuballis folded its wings and made its way daintily across the clearing, coming to a stop several feet from the group.
Kith-Kanan was pleased to see that even White-Lock looked impressed. The Kagonesti leader told Otter to rejoin the group. “What is this beast, Kith?” White-Lock asked wonderingly.
“Arcuballis is a griffon. He’s my mount and my friend.” Kith-Kanan whistled once more and Arcuballis lay down where it was. In seconds, the beast closed its eyes in sleep again.
“He is beautiful, Kith!” Otter said enthusiastically. “He flies?”
“He does indeed.”
“I should be honored if you would take me for a ride!”
“Otter,” White-Lock said sharply.
Regret replaced the joy on Otter’s face, and he subsided. Kith-Kanan smiled kindly at the yellow-eyed elf as the Kagonesti called Sharp-Eye spoke into the silence.
“Mackeli, you said you had a tale to share,” he said. “Tell us of your great adventure.”
All four Kagonesti settled down to listen. Even Otter tore his gaze from Arcuballis and gave his full attention to Mackeli. The Kagonesti were great ones for storytelling, Kith-Kanan knew. They rarely, if ever, wrote anything down. Their history, their news, all was passed orally from one generation to the next. If they liked Mackeli’s story, it would be swapped between tribes until years hence, when it might be heard by every Kagonesti on Krynn.
Mackeli’s green eyes widened. He looked at each of them in turn and began his story. “I was kidnapped by an evil wizard named Voltorno,” he said softly.
Kith-Kanan shook his head bemusedly. Mackeli finally had a fresh audience for his tale. And the boy didn’t let them down. None of the four Kagonesti moved so much as a finger during Mackeli’s long recital of his kidnap, the pursuit by Kith-Kanan and Anaya, and the prince’s duel with Voltorno. The silence was broken only by Otter’s exclamation of triumph when Mackeli told how he and Kith-Kanan had flown away from Voltorno’s men on Arcuballis.
When the story was finished, the Kagonesti looked at Kith-Kanan with new respect. The prince preened slightly, sitting up straighter.
“You fought well against the humans, Kith,” Sharp-Eye concluded. The other Kagonesti nodded.
“We are sorry to have missed the Keeper of the Forest, Mackeli,” White-Lock said. “To see the keeper is a great honor and pleasure. She walks with the gods and speaks with great wisdom.”
A snort of laughter was surprised out of Kith-Kanan. “Anaya?” he exclaimed in disbelief. He was immediately sorry. The Kagonesti, including the fun-loving Otter, turned looks of stern reproach upon him.
“You are disrespectful of the keeper, Kith.” White-Lock glowered.
“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect,” Kith-Kanan said apologetically. “White-Lock, I’m curious. I’ve met Kagonesti elves before but they weren’t like you. They were more—uh.”
“Where did you meet these others?” White-Lock cut in.
“In the West,” replied Kith-Kanan. “The western provinces of Silvanesti.”
“Settled Ones,” Sharp-Eye said with much disgust. Braveheart rubbed his hands together as if washing them, then flung them away from himself.
“Those you met have taken up the ways of the Settled Ones,” said White-Lock, his voice hard. “They have turned their backs on the true ways.”