Lofotan raised his hand in salute.
“Farewell, my lord.”
Mathi reached Balif, and together they vanished into the high grass.
Locusts hummed through the still air. They stood watching the spot where the pair had disappeared until Lofotan turned, clearing his throat.
He said good-bye to Treskan, shaking his hand human-fashioned. To Rufe he simply harumphed. Then he unloaded their gear from the cart and laboriously turned the heavy conveyance around.
“What will you do now, captain? Return to Silvanost?” Treskan asked.
“I think not. There’s nothing there for me.” The faintest of smiles flickered across his face. “I think I’ll keep to this forest. It speaks to me. Maybe I’ll offer my services to the Longwalker. A good soldier can always find employment in this dangerous world.”
“Maybe you’ll finally make general,” said Rufe.
With a final wave Lofotan rolled away. When the cart was gone, Treskan and Rufe faced each other in the failing light.
“You’re leaving me behind.” The kender was acute as always.
“I must. Where I am bound you cannot go.”
“Woodbec?”
Treskan clapped the little man on the shoulder. “That’s not where I’m going, or where I am from.”
He divested himself of all his possessions but his writing board and his handwritten scroll. He gave all to the kinder. Opening his collar, he took out the talisman.
“I knew that was more than good luck piece. Is that how you travel?” Rufe said. “Shoulda asked more for getting it back.”
“You can have all this. There’s gold in the satchel. Balif left it to me. There’s some other trinkets, too, and some good metal blades.”
Rufe sat down on a rain-spattered crate. “At least let me watch,” he said, annoyed.
“Why not? Seeing me depart wouldn’t violate any rules.”
He held the talisman in his fingers and quietly recited the words. A warning tingle raced through him. In the damp air after the shower, a faint corona of light played around the hand that held the talisman.
Rufe watched keenly. Treskan had a fleeting notion that the kender was hoping to see some maneuver he could use on his wanderings.
The recitation done, the scribe raised his hand in farewell. Pinpoints of golden light glinted around him, increasing in size and number as the talisman worked its magic. When the aura was large enough to obscure Treskan from sight there was a clap like thunder. Trees and bushes tossed in the sudden wind. When the air calmed and the dust settled, Treskan was gone.
“How about that!” Rufe said to no one in particular. “Wish I had one of those things.”
He ambled off along the trail, leaving the scribe’s gifts and his own baggage behind.