said Quinby, standing back from the door with tears of joy in his
eyes.
“YOU'RE glad to see me?” I cried in disbelief. “To be sure, it's the other way around!”
The cell door flew open.
“Come with us,” said Quinby. “We came to save you. Now you and your stories can live
forever!”
Spinner Kenro ended the long tale about himself with a flourish, his voice rising in a
dramatic crescendo. His timing was impeccable. No sooner had he finished than a prison
guard unlocked the cell door. “It's dawn,” said the Highlord's emissary. Spinner took a
deep breath and rose to his feet. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “I half believe my own
stories. There was a part of me that really thought my friends would come and save me. Do
you think I'm foolish, Davin?”
I couldn't answer. I was crying.
Spinner had not slept. He had sat up against a wall, weaving his final story during the
last hours of his life. And I was his only audience.
They hanged Spinner Kenro at daybreak.
Spinner died a great many years ago, but his memory lives on. For that night in the prison
he opened the window of my soul. And though his voice was stilled, his gift was somehow
passed to me. I've told many stories throughout the years as I've traveled across Krynn.
But I never fail to tell this, the one, great, final story exactly as Spinner told it to
me that night in the prison.
Oh, I know what really happened. Quinby, Vigre, and Barsh did try to save Spinner. But
once they made their plans, Quinby forgot all about them - he was true to his
kender soul; out of sight, out of mind. Vigre, ever distrustful of humans, had second
thoughts about the entire enterprise. Meanwhile, Barsh and his gnomes did set about
creating a huge wall-scaling device. The problem was that it was so big that they couldn't
get it out of the building in which they had constructed it. It's still there to this day.
Now, you might say that the truth doesn't make a good tale. But that's not the point.
There is a higher truth than the facts. And that truth reveals itself every time I tell
Spinner's story. For as the years went by, the kender, dwarves, and gnomes of Flotsam grew
to BELIEVE that they had saved Spinner. They have convinced themselves that on one cold,
windswept night they joined together to make history, to reach greatness, to become
heroes. And if they did it once, might they not do it again?
A Shaggy Dog's Tail
by Danny Peary poem by Suzanne Rafer
Word spread like wildfire that Tasslehoff Burrfoot was in Spritzbriar. “I'm just passing
through,” he told the villagers as they rushed home to lock up their valuables. “But if
anyone wants to hear some stories, I might just hang around a bit.” Of course, everyone
knew that as long as anyone would listen to the kender's improbable tales, he wasn't going
anywhere. That's what worried the men and women of Spritzbriar. They knew that while they
were safeguarding those belongings they feared might wind up in the kender's pouches,
their children would slip out doors and wriggle out windows in order to see the
illustrious visitor.
As the boys and girls raced across the grassy field toward Prine Lake at the edge of the
forest, they looked nervously over their shoulders, hoping their absences wouldn't be
discovered until AFTER Tas had spun a few yams. Most had promised their parents to never
again listen to his stories after even the bravest had had nightmares in the wake of his
last visit. But they'd grown tired of those cheery tales told by their mothers and
grandmothers. Because kender weren't frightened of anything, Tas thought nothing of
telling the children about bloody battles in war-torn areas
of Krynn, vicious dragons, hobgoblins, or black-robed magic-users. The children found such
stories well worth risking a night without supper.
The children who gathered at Prine Lake sat on the ground and
eyes.
“YOU'RE glad to see me?” I cried in disbelief. “To be sure, it's the other way around!”
The cell door flew open.
“Come with us,” said Quinby. “We came to save you. Now you and your stories can live
forever!”
Spinner Kenro ended the long tale about himself with a flourish, his voice rising in a
dramatic crescendo. His timing was impeccable. No sooner had he finished than a prison
guard unlocked the cell door. “It's dawn,” said the Highlord's emissary. Spinner took a
deep breath and rose to his feet. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “I half believe my own
stories. There was a part of me that really thought my friends would come and save me. Do
you think I'm foolish, Davin?”
I couldn't answer. I was crying.
Spinner had not slept. He had sat up against a wall, weaving his final story during the
last hours of his life. And I was his only audience.
They hanged Spinner Kenro at daybreak.
Spinner died a great many years ago, but his memory lives on. For that night in the prison
he opened the window of my soul. And though his voice was stilled, his gift was somehow
passed to me. I've told many stories throughout the years as I've traveled across Krynn.
But I never fail to tell this, the one, great, final story exactly as Spinner told it to
me that night in the prison.
Oh, I know what really happened. Quinby, Vigre, and Barsh did try to save Spinner. But
once they made their plans, Quinby forgot all about them - he was true to his
kender soul; out of sight, out of mind. Vigre, ever distrustful of humans, had second
thoughts about the entire enterprise. Meanwhile, Barsh and his gnomes did set about
creating a huge wall-scaling device. The problem was that it was so big that they couldn't
get it out of the building in which they had constructed it. It's still there to this day.
Now, you might say that the truth doesn't make a good tale. But that's not the point.
There is a higher truth than the facts. And that truth reveals itself every time I tell
Spinner's story. For as the years went by, the kender, dwarves, and gnomes of Flotsam grew
to BELIEVE that they had saved Spinner. They have convinced themselves that on one cold,
windswept night they joined together to make history, to reach greatness, to become
heroes. And if they did it once, might they not do it again?
A Shaggy Dog's Tail
by Danny Peary poem by Suzanne Rafer
Word spread like wildfire that Tasslehoff Burrfoot was in Spritzbriar. “I'm just passing
through,” he told the villagers as they rushed home to lock up their valuables. “But if
anyone wants to hear some stories, I might just hang around a bit.” Of course, everyone
knew that as long as anyone would listen to the kender's improbable tales, he wasn't going
anywhere. That's what worried the men and women of Spritzbriar. They knew that while they
were safeguarding those belongings they feared might wind up in the kender's pouches,
their children would slip out doors and wriggle out windows in order to see the
illustrious visitor.
As the boys and girls raced across the grassy field toward Prine Lake at the edge of the
forest, they looked nervously over their shoulders, hoping their absences wouldn't be
discovered until AFTER Tas had spun a few yams. Most had promised their parents to never
again listen to his stories after even the bravest had had nightmares in the wake of his
last visit. But they'd grown tired of those cheery tales told by their mothers and
grandmothers. Because kender weren't frightened of anything, Tas thought nothing of
telling the children about bloody battles in war-torn areas
of Krynn, vicious dragons, hobgoblins, or black-robed magic-users. The children found such
stories well worth risking a night without supper.
The children who gathered at Prine Lake sat on the ground and
Similar Books
