accompanied by
an entire detail of Solamnic Knights solemnly arrayed in their
best armor to welcome back the returning Heroes, for this is what
they had understood they were going to be meeting.
" Just a kender, sir," Gerard explained. "Somehow he man-
aged to get himself locked inside the tomb. He let himself out. He
got away from me, but I think I know where he's headed."
The provost, a stout man who loved his ale, turned very red
in the face. The Knights looked extremely foolish-the kender
were now dancing around them in a circle-and all looked very
black at Gerard, whom they clearly blamed for the entire incident.
"Let them," Gerard muttered, and dashed off after his prisoner.
The kender had a good head start. He was quick and nimble
and accustomed to fleeing pursuit. Gerard was strong and a swift
runner, but he was encumbered by his heavy, ceremonial armor,
which clanked and rattled and jabbed him uncomfortably in sev-
eral tender areas. He would likely have never even caught sight
of the felon had not the kender stopped at several junctures to
look around in amazement, demanding loudly to know, "Where
did this come from?" staring at a newly built garrison, and, a little
farther on, "What are all these doing here?" This in reference to
the refugee housing. And "Who put that there?" This to a large
sign posted by the town fathers proclaiming that Solace was a
town in good standing and had paid its tribute to the dragon and
was therefore a safe place to visit.
The kender seemed extremely disconcerted by the sign. He
stood before it, eyeing it severely. "That can't stay there," he said
loudly. "It will block the path of the funeral procession."
Gerard thought he had him at this point, but the kender gave
a bound and a leap and dashed off again. Gerard was forced to
halt to catch his breath. Running in the heavy armor in the heat
caused his head to swim and sent little shooting stars bursting
across his vision. He was close to the Inn, however, and he had
the grim satisfaction of seeing the kender dash up the stairs and
through the front door.
"Good," Gerard thought grimly. "I have him."
Removing his helm, he tossed it to the ground, and leaned
back against the signpost until his breathing returned to normal,
while he watched the stairs to make certain the kender didn't
depart. Acting completely against regulations, Gerard divested
himself of the pieces of armor that were chafing him the worst,
wrapped them in his cloak, and stashed the bundle in a dark
corner of the Inn's woodshed. He then walked over to the com-
munity water barrel and plunged the gourd deep into the water.
The barrel stood in a shady spot beneath one of the vallen-
woods. The water was cool and sweet. Gerard kept one eye on
the door of the Inn and, lifting the dipper, dumped the water
over his head.
The water trickled down his neck and breast, wonderfully
refreshing. He took a long drink, slicked back his hair, wiped his
face, picked up his helm and, tucking it beneath his arm, made
the long ascent up the stairs to the Inn. He could hear the
kender's voice quite clearly. Judging by his formal tones and un-
naturally deep voice, the kender appeared to be making a
speech.
"Caramon Majere was a very great hero. He fought dragons
and undead and goblins and hobgoblins and ogres and draconi-
ans and lots of others I can't remember. He traveled back in time
with this very device-right here, this very device-' II The
kender resumed normal speech for a moment to say, I'Then I
show the crowd the device, Caramon. I'd show you that part, but
I can't quite seem to find it right now. Don't worry, I won't let
anyone touch it. Now, where was I?"
A pause and the sound of paper rustling.
Gerard continued climbing the stairs. He had never truly no-
ticed just how many stairs there were before. His legs, already
aching and stiff from running, burned, his breath came short. He
wished he'd taken off all his
an entire detail of Solamnic Knights solemnly arrayed in their
best armor to welcome back the returning Heroes, for this is what
they had understood they were going to be meeting.
" Just a kender, sir," Gerard explained. "Somehow he man-
aged to get himself locked inside the tomb. He let himself out. He
got away from me, but I think I know where he's headed."
The provost, a stout man who loved his ale, turned very red
in the face. The Knights looked extremely foolish-the kender
were now dancing around them in a circle-and all looked very
black at Gerard, whom they clearly blamed for the entire incident.
"Let them," Gerard muttered, and dashed off after his prisoner.
The kender had a good head start. He was quick and nimble
and accustomed to fleeing pursuit. Gerard was strong and a swift
runner, but he was encumbered by his heavy, ceremonial armor,
which clanked and rattled and jabbed him uncomfortably in sev-
eral tender areas. He would likely have never even caught sight
of the felon had not the kender stopped at several junctures to
look around in amazement, demanding loudly to know, "Where
did this come from?" staring at a newly built garrison, and, a little
farther on, "What are all these doing here?" This in reference to
the refugee housing. And "Who put that there?" This to a large
sign posted by the town fathers proclaiming that Solace was a
town in good standing and had paid its tribute to the dragon and
was therefore a safe place to visit.
The kender seemed extremely disconcerted by the sign. He
stood before it, eyeing it severely. "That can't stay there," he said
loudly. "It will block the path of the funeral procession."
Gerard thought he had him at this point, but the kender gave
a bound and a leap and dashed off again. Gerard was forced to
halt to catch his breath. Running in the heavy armor in the heat
caused his head to swim and sent little shooting stars bursting
across his vision. He was close to the Inn, however, and he had
the grim satisfaction of seeing the kender dash up the stairs and
through the front door.
"Good," Gerard thought grimly. "I have him."
Removing his helm, he tossed it to the ground, and leaned
back against the signpost until his breathing returned to normal,
while he watched the stairs to make certain the kender didn't
depart. Acting completely against regulations, Gerard divested
himself of the pieces of armor that were chafing him the worst,
wrapped them in his cloak, and stashed the bundle in a dark
corner of the Inn's woodshed. He then walked over to the com-
munity water barrel and plunged the gourd deep into the water.
The barrel stood in a shady spot beneath one of the vallen-
woods. The water was cool and sweet. Gerard kept one eye on
the door of the Inn and, lifting the dipper, dumped the water
over his head.
The water trickled down his neck and breast, wonderfully
refreshing. He took a long drink, slicked back his hair, wiped his
face, picked up his helm and, tucking it beneath his arm, made
the long ascent up the stairs to the Inn. He could hear the
kender's voice quite clearly. Judging by his formal tones and un-
naturally deep voice, the kender appeared to be making a
speech.
"Caramon Majere was a very great hero. He fought dragons
and undead and goblins and hobgoblins and ogres and draconi-
ans and lots of others I can't remember. He traveled back in time
with this very device-right here, this very device-' II The
kender resumed normal speech for a moment to say, I'Then I
show the crowd the device, Caramon. I'd show you that part, but
I can't quite seem to find it right now. Don't worry, I won't let
anyone touch it. Now, where was I?"
A pause and the sound of paper rustling.
Gerard continued climbing the stairs. He had never truly no-
ticed just how many stairs there were before. His legs, already
aching and stiff from running, burned, his breath came short. He
wished he'd taken off all his
Similar Books
