'Well,' he said aloud, wiping his hands. Some of hisconfidence was returning, though strained by the cir cumstances. 'Summoning is more dangerous than I thought. If the wizard messes up, boot! Off he goes, taken away forever. Demons don't forgive…'
His eyes glazed slightly as he thought about some variations on this possibility. Mentally, he crossed off the occupation of sorcerer from those he wished to leam moreabout. This was better left to people like
He heard a door, hidden by racks of books, open. Tasslehoff dropped to all fours and crawled under the table.
The floor creaked. Thick robes rustled and fell silent. There was no sound for what seemed like ages of time.
'Tasslehoff,' said a wavering voice.
There was no reply.
'You poor wretched puppy, you cannot escape me.' The door creaked and thumped shut. 'You watched in the Room of Conjurations when I spoke with the demon lord. I knew you were there. Come out now. No use hiding, Tasslehoff.'
Robes swished softly and slowly behind a bookcase. His eyes sparkling, Tasslehoff pressed against a table leg.
'You're behind the bookcase, under the table.' The wavering voice hardened. 'Come out.'
A long shadow, stepping from behind the shelves, appeared against a far wall.
'Tasslehoff.' The Magus raised his hand and pointed a finger.
Green light burst across the room. Tasslehoff fell back on the floor as the room blinked out and a new one flashed in.
Now he was in the Room of Conjurations. He ran for a corner and tried to climb the wall. Falling back, he ran for the doorway he hoped would be an exit.
The Magus stepped through that very doorway into the chamber. Tasslehoff stopped dead, crouched and ready to jump in any direction.
'Pleased you could join me,' said the Magus.
'I must confess,' the Magus said, 'that I don't understand why the ring you're wearing teleports you about as it does. You're at its mercy, yet it pulls you out of my reach and keeps you safe. It's kept you alive for days and days, bringing you to this castle to me. I don't understand it, and I know I don't like it.'
Tasslehoff watched his opponent like a hawk. 'I'm not dancing about it either,' he said. 'I'd rather be home in a tavern.'
'I don't doubt that,' the Magus retorted, walking slowly around the kender. The sorcerer scratched at his cheek with a bony finger. 'Circumstances, however, dictate otherwise. I want to finish this now, before the sun sets. You're the first person ever to invade my castle. You deserve a special fate.'
'You wouldn't want to be friends and let me go home, would you?' Tasslehoff asked faintly.
The Magus smiled, the skin pulling across his face like dry paper. 'No,' he said.
Tasslehoff darted for the open door. The Magus gestured, and Tasslehoff slammed into the door as it flew shut. Stunned, he found his nose wasn't broken, though his eyes streamed tears.
Light arose behind him. Tasslehoff turned and saw that the firepots of the conjuring circle were burning. A dark figure with arms stood before the circle, chanting in a low voice.
Tasslehoff felt in his pockets for some last trick, something to pull him out of danger. He found six feet of string, a silver piece with a hole in it, a sugar bun, a crystal button, someone else's tinderbox, a bluejay feather, and a river pebble two inches across. No miracles…
He beat and kicked the door until he ached. Thunder rattled his teeth; waves of cold and heat washed over him.
When he heard the Magus call the name of the thing, he gave up. Setting his back to the door, he turned to face the spectacle. If he couldn't escape, he could at least go out like an explorer. He would have lived longer as a scribe, but this was better in a way. Scribes lived such boring lives. That thought comforted him as the scaled shape of the thing arose from the pit of violet lightning and darkness.
The thing's eyes glowed, one head fixed on Tassle hoff and the other on the Magus. 'Twice in one day, Magus?' questioned the thing, hissing. 'You have company as well. Am I now a circus exhibit?'
'Hear me!' the sorcerer shouted. 'There stands an offering to you, a soul you may eat at your leisure! I bind you with words and enchantments of power, under threat of eternal torture and debasement, to take this kender to the Abyss with you until time is no more! Take him away!'
Tasslehoff's mind went blank. His fist, thrust into a pocket, clenched the stone that he had collected some time ago and admired ever since because of its smoothness. In an instant he snatched the stone out of his pocket and threw it.
The Magus gasped and staggered as the stone smacked the back of his skull. Stumbling, his hands clutching his head, he stepped forward. A slippered foot scuffed over the pale chalky lines that surrounded him.
The glowing runes and tracings on the floor went dark like a candle snuffed out. Silently and easily, an oily tentacle reached for the Magus and caught his foot. The Magus screamed.
'Thousands of years ago,' said the thing, its voices trembling with peculiar emotion, 'it occurred to me that I would need a defense against those who abused my status as Prince of Demons, those who would use me as a footstool on which to rest their pride. Some-day, something would be needed to turn the odds in my favor should this ever happen.'
The thing's tentacle lifted the Magus high in the air, turning him around slowly as a man would a mouse caught by the tail. 'I devised many such defenses, but the one of which I am most proud now is the ring you wear, kender.'
Tasslehoff glanced at the ring. The emerald was glowing faintly.
'The ring,' the thing continued, 'only activates when I need its services. It defends the wearer against death, though it may not make the wearer comfortable. By leaps and bounds it teleports him to my vicinity. It prevents all attempts to remove it until the wearer performs a boon for me, accomplishing what I most desire. You were my tool unknowing, but most serviceable.'
Tasslehoff looked at the thing, his mouth dry with the realization of what he'd done.
'Take off the ring,' the thing's voices rasped, 'and you will be teleported back to your home. I have no more need of you.'
Tasslehoff carefully pulled the ring free from his left hand. As it left his finger, it flashed a brilliant, fiery green and dropped to the floor. And in that same instant, Tasslehoff was gone.
The heads of the thing roared with laughter. The Magus screamed, and screamed, and…
Tasslehoff finished his drink and pushed it away. Across the tavern table, two old friends, a man and woman, blinked as the thread of the tale snapped and drifted away.
'That,' said Kitiara with a shake of her head, 'was the most incredible story I've ever heard out of you, Tasslehoff.' A grin slowly appeared on her face. 'You've not lost your touch.'
The kender sniffed, disappointment showing on his face. 'I didn't think you'd believe me.'
'That was supposed to be true?' Sturm asked, staring at Tasslehoff. His eyes were bright with amusement. 'You actually mean to say you met a demon prince, helped destroy a wizard, found and lost a magic ring, and crossed half a world?'
The kender nodded, a playful grin reflected on his face.
For a few seconds, the listeners made no response. The man and woman looked at each other and then at the kender.
'Merciful gods, Tasslehoff,' the woman breathed, pushing her chair back. 'You could make a goblin believe rocks were valuable.' She rose to her feet, tossed a few coins on the tabletop, and waved at kender and warrior. 'I think I'll go on to bed with that one.'
Sturm groaned in mild embarrassment. Granted, the kender's tale was fantastic, but there was no need to rub his nose in it. He turned back to Tasslehoff with a self-conscious grin, meaning to apologize, and stopped.
Tasslehoff was looking after Kitiara with a strange, wistful gaze. His left hand rested on the tabletop beside the half-melted candle. A pale band was visible around his ring finger, wider than most rings would leave. The skin on either side of the band was scarred and discolored, as if someone had tried to remove a ring once worn there.
