Tanis turned and beheld the image of a woman like none he had ever seen. Her pale skin fairly glowed against her dark, curly tresses, and every delicate feature of her face looked as if it had been painted in perfect fleshtones by a master. Her figure was accentuated by a thin, black, woven top, cinched tight around her narrow waist with a cord, setting off long, shapely legs. She wore brown leather shoes with silver buckles, and a woven skirt the color of new leaves.
There was no doubt in Tanis's mind that he was looking at Brandella. And in her own right, she could have sparked the shock that coursed through him now. But the resemblance to another woman, the echo of an earlier love, sent a pang through the half-elf like a fiery bolt from a longbow. Brandella's black hair was long, practically waist-length; Kitiara's short, black curls had framed her face. But the brown eyes could have been those of sisters. Brandella was a softer, more feminine version of Kitiara. Kit had been his-as much as any man could dare to claim the tempestuous swordswoman-only short days before. And now she was traveling, the gods knew where, with Sturm Bright- blade.
Kitiara would have laughed at Tanis's current pain, he knew. 'What, Tanthalas? Not… not regrets?' she would have sneered, flashing him her crooked smile and probing the wounds caused by their parting. Yet there would've been an undertone of passion that would have' left him breathless.
He couldn't imagine this woman, Brandella, sneering at anyone. He realized he was staring and forced his gaze to the woman's companion. Behind Brandella stood the dwarf, Mertwig. When the dwarf saw who lay on the pallet, he bolted across the room, crying, 'Yebbiel Yeb- bie!'
Yeblidod raised her arms weakly to her husband as Tanis stepped out of the way. The dwarf wept at her bedside as she patted his head. 'I'm all right,' she reassured him in a thin whisper, a raspy imitation of her formerly warm alto. 'Some rest, a little soup, and I'll be just fine.'
'What happened? Who did this to you?' Mertwig asked, weak chin wobbly in his craggy face. He wiped his eyes with the tail of his dark brown shirt.
'A human. But he,' she said, indicating Tanis, who stood quietly in a dark corner, 'he fought him and drove him away.'
Mertwig nodded at Tanis in gratitude, clearly unable to say what was in his heart. The half-elf understood; the dwarf Hint was much the same way.
Hurt though she was, Yeblidod appeared mostly frightened and shaken by her ordeal. Brandella shooed Mertwig away and looked after the matronly dwarf.
'Where is Canpho?' asked the old fisherman in a low rumble.
'I couldn't find the healer, Reehsha,' Brandella answered softly, without looking up from her seat on a low, three-legged stool next to the rickety bed. 'There are many who are sick and dying. He could be anywhere.' She cast a distracted look at Kishpa, lying without movement on a fur pallet on the floor.'
'But Canpho would come if he knew it was Kishpa,' insisted the frustrated fisherman. His gestures made wild shadows on the bare walls of the candlelit shack. 'They would find him for you and send him.'
'We couldn't risk it,' Brandella said plaintively. 'If everyone knew that Kishpa was ill and unable to cast his magic to defend the village, there would be panic. As it is, many are worried that our mage is nowhere to be found. If they hadn't discovered a distraction, Ankatavaka would be awash in fear.'
'A distraction?' Tanis asked.
Brandella nodded without glancing his way. 'A funny little human they have dubbed a hero,' she explained, wiping Yeblidod's forehead gently with a moistened fragment of one of her shawls. Brandella glanced over her shoulder at the old fisherman. 'I'm afraid that we alone must fear for the village. And I with guilt,' she added, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, 'because it was my fault that he has come to this state.'
The old elf stepped forward, quickly flaring to anger. 'You're at fault? How?'
She turned back to her nursing of Yeblidod, ignoring Reehsha's implicit threat. 'I asked too much of him,' she tried to say evenly, though Tanis could clearly see the hurt in her eyes. 'The humans were about to break through the south wall,' she said. 'There were only a handful of defenders left, and I begged him to use his magic to save them because they had been so valiant. He told me that it was too soon for him to use his magic again, but I insisted.'
Brandella faltered, then took a deep breath and steadied herself by covering Yeblidod with a blanket, her ministrations completed. The dwarven woman, soothed by her friend's calming hands, slipped quickly into sleep.
Tears glittered on the weaver's thick lashes. 'He cast his spell,' she continued. 'I don't know what it was or even if it worked, but he collapsed right after that. He hasn't regained consciousness.' It was a statement, not a question. A tear trickled down her face. She didn't wipe it away.
'He warned you!' bellowed the old fisherman. 'If he dies, it's on your head! And if he dies, by the gods, IH have your head, too! I'll feed it to the fish!' Reehsha stomped about the room, clearly forgetting the two invalids lying a short distance away.
'Enough!' Tanis shouted. In the same instant, he drew his broadsword, its ominous red glow filling the small shack. He now knew full well the source of his blade's power. It had been Kishpa who had enchanted the sword, saving his life and, quite possibly, the village of Ankatavaka. 'I told you,' the half-elf growled. 'Kishpa will survive. Be a good friend to your mage, and swallow your oaths.'
Mertwig, shaking with the strain of the evening, shouted, 'Don't kill him!' Brandella tried to shush him, glancing repeatedly at the motionless Yeblidod and Kishpa.
'A warrior wizard!' Reehsha exclaimed. 'I have never seen one!'
'I am no wizard,' said Tanis harshly, lowering his sword so that its point tilted toward the old elf's face and lowering his voice to please Brandella. 'I am just a friend to Kishpa and a servant of his lady.'
'You lie!' Reehsha shot back, undeterred by the blade's proximity to his nose. 'You must be a warrior wizard. You have a magic broadsword, and you have now twice foretold the future. How do you know that Kishpa will live?'
Before Tanis could answer, Brandella grabbed his hand and squeezed it. 'Is it true? Will Kishpa be all right?' she begged softly, dark brown eyes aflame with hope.
Although well aware that he would be hard-pressed to explain how he knew it, Tanis couldn't deny her the peace she so desperately needed. 'Yes,' he said. 'He will live.'
A sob escaped Brandella's throat. Then she looked at Tanis again, more closely, and a sudden, strange flash of recognition leaped in her eyes. She gasped.
'I… I don't know how… how soon Kishpa will revive,' Tanis offered, embarrassed by her reaction to him. He swallowed and took control of himself, adding, 'I don't know if he will be able to help Ankatavaka when the sun rises and the humans renew their attack. I know only that he will have a long life.'
'Then you are a mage,' Reehsha intoned, self- satisfied. 'You could help Ankatavaka!'
'I told you I am no mage. But I know this mage,' Tanis said cryptically, pointing at the unconscious Kishpa. 'And you need not worry for his health.'
'What of Yeblidod?' begged Mertwig. 'Do you also know how she will fare?'
'She will be fine,' the half-elf said, deciding there was no reason to say otherwise. 'You need not worry about her.'
Mertwig and Reehsha finally appeared at a loss for words. For the first time in long moments, silence fell on the fisherman's ramshackle quarters. Reehsha's face still showed suspicion, Mertwig's face, only relief. Brandella had dried her tears and watched the half-elf intently.
'Who are you?' the dark-eyed weaver finally asked, quietly and kindly. Her voice was steady. 'You are a stranger to Ankatavaka, yet you claim to know my Kishpa. You call him friend and declare yourself my protector. Why is this? And by what magic do you possess such a sword7'
'All good questions, Brandella.' Tanis dared to gaze into her eyes. Her tears had made her appear that much more pallid, yet the half-elf realized there was a cord of steel beneath the soft demeanor that was as strong as the broadsword he now sheathed.
'You know my name?' she asked.
'I know it well.'
'Then use it well and tell me both what I wish to know and what I need to know.'
'My name is Tanis,' he began slowly, trying to decide how much he should tell her. The candle sputtered. Mertwig resumed his vigil by his wife's side, and the fisherman slumped onto a wooden bench by the door.
