following the Cataclysm.
'Inquisitions! That's only for those who defy the new High Theocrat, according to rumor.' Flint snorted. 'I don't believe in the Seeker gods-never did-but I don't parade my beliefs in the street. Keep quiet and they'll let you alone-that's my motto. The Highseekers in Haven are still wise and virtuous men. It's just this one rotten apple in Solace that's spoiling the whole barrel. By the way, did you find what you sought?'
'Some sign of the ancient, true gods?' Tanis asked. 'Or peace of mind? I went seeking both. Which did you mean?'
'Well, I assume one would go with the other,' Flint growled. He turned the piece of wood in his hands, still not satisfied with its proportions. 'Are we going to stand here all night, smelling the cooking fires? Or are we going to go into town and get some dinner?'
'Go.' Tanis waved. The two started down the path together, Tanis's long strides forcing the dwarf to take two steps to his one. Though it had been many years since they had journeyed together, Tanis unconsciously slowed his pace, while Flint unconsciously quickened his.
'So you found nothing?' Flint pursued.
'Nothing,' Tanis replied. 'As we discovered long ago, the only clerics and priests in this world serve false gods. I heard tales of healing, but it was all trickery and magic. Fortunately, our friend Raistlin taught me what to watch-'
'Raistlin!' Flint puffed. 'That pasty-faced, skinny magician. He's more than half charlatan himself. Always sniveling and whining and poking his nose where it doesn't belong. If it weren't for his twin brother looking after him, someone would've put an end to his magic long ago.'
Tanis was glad his beard hid his smile. 'I think the young man was a better magician than you give him credit for,' he said. 'And, you must admit, he worked long and tirelessly to help those who were taken in by the fake clerics-as I did.' He sighed.
'For which you got little thanks, no doubt,' the dwarf muttered.
'Very little,' Tanis said. 'People want to believe in something-even if, deep inside, they know it is false. But what of you? How was your journey to your homelands?'
Flint stumped along without answering, his face grim. Finally he muttered, 'I should never have gone,' and glanced up at Tanis, his eyes-barely visible through the thick, overhanging, white eyebrows- informing the half-elf that this turn of the conversation was not welcome. Tanis saw the look but asked his questions anyhow.
'What of the dwarven clerics? The stories we heard?'
'Not true. The clerics vanished three hundred years ago during the Cataclysm. So say the elders.'
'Much like the elves,' Tanis mused.
'I saw-'
'Hsst!' Tanis held out a warning hand.
Flint came to a dead stop. 'What?' he whispered.
Tanis motioned. 'Over in that grove.'
Flint peered toward the trees, at the same time reaching for the battle-axe that was strapped behind his back.
The red rays of the setting sun glistened briefly on a piece of metal flashing among the trees. Tanis saw it once, lost it, then saw it again. At that moment, though, the sun sank, leaving the sky glowing a rich violet, and causing night's shadows to creep through the forest trees.
Flint squinted into the gloom. 'I don't see anything.'
'I did,' Tanis said. He kept staring at the place where he'd seen the metal, and gradually his elvensight began to detect the warm red aura cast by all living beings but visible only to the elves. 'Who goes there?' Tanis called.
The only answer for long moments was an eerie sound that made the hair rise on the half-elf's neck. It was a hollow, whirring sound that started out low, then grew higher and higher and eventually attained a high-pitched, screaming whine. Soaring with it, came a voice. 'Elven wanderer, turn from your course and leave the dwarf behind. We are the spirits of those poor souls Flint Fireforge left on the barroom floor. Did we die in combat?' The spirit voice soared to new heights, as did the whining, whirring sound accompanying it. 'No! We died of shame, cursed by the ghost of the grape for not being able to outdrink a hill dwarf.'
Flint's beard was quivering with rage, and Tanis, bursting out laughing, was forced to grab the angry dwarf's shoulder to keep him from charging headlong into the brush.
'Damn the eyes of the elves!' The spectral voice turned merry. 'And damn the beards of the dwarves!'
'Wouldn't you know it?' Flint groaned. 'Tasslehoff Burrfoot!'
There was a faint rustle in the underbrush, then a small figure stood on the path. It was a kender, one of a race of people considered by many on Krynn to be as much a nuisance as mosquitoes. Small-boned, the kender rarely grew over four feet tall. This particular kender was about Flint's height, but his slight build and perpetually childlike face made him seem smaller. He wore bright blue leggings that stood out in sharp contrast to his furred vest and plain, home-spun tunic. His brown eyes glinted with mischief and fun; his smile seemed to reach to the tips of his pointed ears. He dipped his head in a mock bow, allowing a long tassle of brown hair-his pride and joy- to flip forward over his nose. Then he straightened up, laughing. The metallic gleam Tanis's quick eyes had spotted came from the buckles of one of the numerous packs strapped around his shoulders and waist.
Tas grinned up at them, leaning on his hoopak staff. It was this staff that had created the eerie noise. Tanis should have recognized it at once, having seen the kender scare off many would-be attackers by whirling his staff in the air, producing that screaming whine. A kender invention, the hoopak's bottom end was copper-clad and sharply pointed; the top end was forked and held a leather sling. The staff itself was made out of a single piece of supple willow wood. Although scorned by every other race on Krynn, the hoopak was more than a useful tool or weapon to a kender-it was his symbol. 'New roads demand a hoopak,' was a popular saying among kenderkind. It was always followed immediately by another of their sayings:
'No road is ever old.'
Tasslehoff suddenly ran forward, his arms open wide.
'Flint!' The kender threw his arms around the dwarf and hugged him. Flint, embarrassed, returned the embrace reluctantly, then quickly stepped back. Tasslehoff grinned, then looked up at the half-elf.
'Who's this?' He gasped. 'Tanis! I didn't recognize you with a beard!' He held out his short arms.
'No, thanks,' said Tanis, grinning. He waved the kender away. 'I want to keep my money pouch.'
With a sudden look of alarm, Flint felt under his tunic. 'You rascal!' He roared and leaped at the kender, who was doubled over, laughing. The two went down in the dust.
Tanis, chuckling, started to pull Flint off the kender. Then he stopped and turned in alarm. Too late, he heard the silvery jingle of harness and bridle and the whinny of a horse. The half-elf put his hand on the hilt of his sword, but he had already lost any advantage he might have gained through alertness.
Swearing under his breath, Tanis could do nothing but stand and stare at the figure emerging from the shadows. It was seated on a small, furry-legged pony that walked with its head down as if it were ashamed of its rider. Gray, mottled skin sagged into folds about the rider's face. Two pig-pink eyes stared out at them from beneath a military-looking helmet. Its fat. flabby body leaked out between pieces of flashy, pretentious armor.
A peculiar odor hit Tanis, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. 'Hobgoblin!' his brain registered. He loosened his sword and kicked at Flint, but at that moment the dwarf gave a tremendous sneeze and sat up on the kender.
'Horse!' said Flint, sneezing again.
'Behind you,' Tanis replied quietly.
Flint, hearing the warning note in his friend's voice, scrarnbled to his feet. Tasslehoff quickly did the same.
The hobgoblin sat astride the pony, watching them with a sneering, supercilious look on his flat face. His pink eyes reflected the last lingering traces of sunlight.
'You see, boys,' the hobgoblin stated, speaking the Common Tongue with a thick accent, 'what fools we are dealing with here in Solace.'
There was gritty laughter from the trees behind the hobgoblin. Five goblin guards, dressed in crude uniforms, came out on foot. They took up positions on either side of their leader's horse.
