When Tanis didn't say anything, the dwarf rubbed his eyes one last time, rose, and crossed the dwelling to an oak sideboard that held a huge trencher of raspberries. There he used a wooden scoop to fill two pottery bowls with berries.
'Another gift from Eld Ailea?' Tanis asked ingenuously. 'Like that shirt you're decked out in today?'
Flint glanced suspiciously at Tanis. 'Exactly what is that supposed to mean?'
'Oh, nothing.' Tanis held up his hands in mock-surrender.
The dwarf pointed the scoop at the half-elf. 'Ailea has become a good friend. And I might add that you yourself have spent a fair amount of time with her in the past few weeks, lad.'
Tanis plucked a berry from one bowl and ate it. 'Do you want me to get some cream to pour over these?' Flint cooled his provisions, including milk and cream, by sealing them in ceramic jugs and lowering the containers into a spring in his back yard.
The dwarf spooned a generous portion of raspberries into his mouth, closed his eyes, and chewed slowly, murmuring, 'Wonderful, just the way they are.' Then his blue-gray eyes flew open, and he glared at the half-elf. 'And anyway, I pay Ailea with toys. These are not gifts.' He lifted the bowl and took it back to the table to examine his drawings.
Tanis decided it was time for a change of subject. 'If you can't decide between wood and steel, why not mix them?' His voice was muffled with berries.
Flint nodded, not paying much attention. Then he turned to Tanis. 'What was that you said?' he demanded.
'Why not mix…'
But Flint had already pulled out another sheet of parchment and was sketching away furiously. He mumbled to himself, but Tanis couldn't catch the words. The half-elf sighed. It was just as well; with the day's stultifying heat, Tanis was ready for a nap anyway. Five minutes later, the half-elf was curled up on Flint's cot, sound asleep.
The dwarf worked on.
It was early afternoon when Flint finally raised his head from the page. 'Look at these, lad. I need your opinion.' He looked over at Tanis, but the half-elf barely stirred. 'Well!' Flint gazed again at his design, then rolled the sheet into a cylinder, leaving the others on the table, and departed, closing the door quietly.
Thirty minutes later, Flint had unrolled the paper on the Speaker's marble-topped table in the Tower. Solostaran leaned over to examine the dwarf's suggestion.
'I've decided to mix gold, silver, steel, antler, red coral, and malachite,' the dwarf said excitedly. 'And aspen wood.'
The sketch showed a medallion about the size of a child's fist. The medal depicted a woodland scene, with an aspen in the foreground and a path leading back through spruce trees to a hill. Above the hill were two moons. 'I'll make the medal by sandwiching a back plate of steel with a fore plate of gold. Into the gold fore plate I'll cut out the figures-the trees, the moons, the path.'
Solostaran nodded. It was a clever plan. 'What of the coral and malachite?' he asked. 'Where do they fit in?'
'I'll inlay the piece,' Flint explained. 'Once I've sandwiched the two plates together, I'll fill in the outline of the trees-green malachite for the leaves and branches and brown antler for the trunk. The path will be of antler and steel. One moon, Lunitari, will be of red coral. The other, Solinari, will be formed of silver.'
But the Speaker looked dubious. 'It's beautiful, but it's so elaborate. Are you sure you can fashion this in two weeks?'
Flint winked, and dipped a handful of dried figs and glazed almonds from the silver bowl on the desk. The bowl always seemed to be full whenever the dwarf arrived, but Flint never paused to consider the significance of that; he merely congratulated himself on his good fortune in having a friend whose taste in snacks mirrored his own. 'The hard part is the thinking,' the dwarf said. 'The rest comes easily.
'Is the design all right?' Hint waited confidently, knowing the Speaker would be pleased but wanting to hear him say it.
'It's perfect.' Solostaran said.
A smile split the dwarf's face. 'Good. Then I'll get working right away.' He reached for his drawing.
Solostaran's voice stopped him. 'Master Fireforge. Flint.'
The dwarf looked at his friend.
'What are people saying in the aftermath of Lord Xenoth's death?' the Speaker asked quietly.
Flint's hand remained suspended above the parchment. Then he slowly rolled up the sketch. 'Well, you know I don't have much business with many of the courtiers now.' Especially since he'd taken Tanis's side after the tylor hunt, he might have added.
'What are the common folk saying, then?'
Flint tied a string around the rolled paper and exhaled slowly. 'Lord Xenoth wasn't much liked by many people, especially those he considered… lower-class,' he said carefully. 'But many elves also approved of his views about keeping Qualinesti apart from the rest of Krynn.' He decided to plunge on ahead. 'Those same elves don't approve of my being here, and they're not overly fond of allowing half-elves to live in the city, either.'
'There are fanatics on every issue,' Solostaran murmured. 'The question is, how prevalent are they?'
'That I don't know, sir.'
Solostaran smiled wanly. 'Call me 'Speaker,' ' he said. 'Remember when I told you that, the day you arrived in Qualinost?'
'Remember?' The dwarf hooted. 'How could I forget? How many folks get lessons in court decorum from the Speaker of the Sun himself?'
Solostaran didn't speak, and eventually his smile and Flint's grin faded. 'Many of the courtiers are not pleased, Flint. They say… they say I am protecting Tanthalas because he is my ward. They say I should banish him.'
Banish Tanis? 'That's absurd,' Flint said. 'He didn't kill Xenoth. Didn't Miral explain how the burst of magic might have diverted the second arrow?'
'Flint,' Solostaran said, 'I have talked to a number of magic-users in the past weeks, and they all agree. Circumstances such as those Miral painted are extremely unlikely. His explanation would call for the tylor's powerful magic to 'ricochet' off a weak mage like Miral and somehow force one small arrow off course to land in an elf's chest. They say it's not impossible, but not probable, either. For one thing, such an occurrence most likely would have killed any but a powerful mage.
'For the past weeks, I've been going from expert to expert, hoping to find one who will say, 'Yes, that's probably what happened.' '
Solostaran pushed his leather chair away from the massive table and turned to face the huge windows. 'It can't be done, Flint. No one who understands magic will say that.' Despite the blazing heat outside, the marble and quartz building stayed cool inside. Flint shivered.
'What will you do. Speaker?'
'What can I do?' Solostaran demanded, his angry movements rustling his robe of state. 'I am left with a situation in which the closest eyewitness-and someone I trust absolutely-says that the most obvious explanation- that Tanis aimed badly-simply is not true. The other explanations that would exonerate my ward are deemed virtually impossible by elves who should know.
'That leaves me with one conclusion.
He returned to his chair, where he slumped backward. 'Somehow I always get back to 'and yet…' '
Flint cast about for a reply, but none was forthcoming. All he could promise to do was to think on the subject, and to keep his ears open to gauge elven opinion on the matter.
When Flint emerged from the Tower of the Sun moments later, prepared to walk slowly down the blue and white tiled streets to his shop, a familiar figure was waiting on the steps of the Tower. A small crowd of admiring children had gathered around Fleetfoot, who lifted her graying muzzle and brayed enthusiastically as Flint drew
