Kindred Spirits

About twenty feet away, Tanis sighed loudly and selected a new pear tree to lean against. His face held the bored look of the adolescent-although he did remain at the scene.

'Bent nails,' Flint said, rummaging in the sack. 'That's what I've got in here. And rusted curry combs and worn-out horseshoes and a month-old loaf of quith-pa. That's all.'

The children waited for Laurana to take the lead. 'You always say that,' she pointed out.

'All right,' he sighed. 'Here's an idea. You put your arm inside the sack and pull something out.'

She nodded. 'Fine.' She placed one hand near the opening. 'Just watch out for the baby sea dragon,' the dwarf said. 'It bites.'

She snatched back her slender hand and glared at Flint. 'Want me to do it?' Flint finally offered.

Laurana nodded again.

He pulled something from deep in the corner of his sack, a gleeful grin on his face. She gasped, clapping her hands, and suddenly she wasn't the Speaker's royal daughter, but an ordinary elven girl. Frowning still, he laid the object in her hand.

It was a flute, no longer than the span of the elf girl's hand, but perfect in every respect, carved of a bit of vallenwood that Flint had brought all the way from Solace. But he knew its tone would be sweeter than any other wood, and this was proved true as Laurana raised the flute to her lips. The tones that bubbled forth were as clear as the water in the brook.

'Oh, thank you!' Laurana exclaimed, and, ran over to Tanis, who stooped to examine her treasure. Laurana's brother, the elf boy called Gilthanas, and the other elven children pressed about Flint, begging him to please look and see if there was anything in his sack for them, too.

'Now, stop shoving,' Flint said testily, 'or I'm liable to leave at any second, you know.' But somehow, despite the dwarf's grumbling, when the bag was empty every child in the square held a new, perfect toy. There were tiny musical instruments, like Laurana's flute, and small puppets that could be made to dance on the palm of the hand, and miniature carts pulled by painted horses, and wooden disks that rolled up and down on the end of a string tied to a finger.

All of the toys were made of wood, each carved lovingly by the light of the fire. Flint would work for weeks in his spare moments, filling up the cabinet, and then, when he'd made enough, he would find some excuse to pass through the square. Not that he'd ever admit it was anything other than chance that sent him when he just happened to have toys in his sack. He would merely scowl.

As he folded up the empty bag, Flint searched the gathering of children with his eyes. The dwarf saw Tanis, now sitting on the edge of the square, apart from the others near one of the pools. He sat cross-legged, staring silently into the water, where Flint could see the faint shadows of fish drifting by. In the midst of all this elven loveliness, there was something about Tanis, with his human qualities, that seemed decidedly familiar to Flint. The elves were a good people, but once in a while he found his thoughts turning to the times he had spent with folk a bit less distant. At any rate, he had come to the square like this four or five times now, and always Tanis had hung back from the other children when the dwarf was giving out the wooden toys. Tanis was growing old for youngsters' fripperies, but still… He wasn't all grown up yet. Not that Tanis hadn't seemed interested. Nearly every time the dwarf had arrived at the area to pass out toys, Flint had looked up to see the youth's not-quite-elven eyes upon him, as if he were studying the dwarf. Flint would motion for the boy to come forward, but he never would. He would just keep watching with that thoughtful gaze of his, and then, when the dwarf would look for him again, he would be gone.

But this time would be different. Flint thrust a hand in his pocket, making sure the one last toy he'd been saving-a wooden pea-shooter-was still there.

The rest of the children had dissipated, gone home to suppers of venison with fruit sauce, basted fish, or quith-pa with roasted fowl. The only figure in sight was Tanis. The Speaker's ward sat by the pool, arms clasped about his knees, resting his chin on them, watching Flint with his hazel eyes. He wore a loose white shirt and tan deerskin breeches, clothing reminiscent of that of the Que-Shu plainsmen, quite unlike the flowing tunics and robes that full elves preferred. He stood, unfolding his husky frame without the sense of grace that the other elves carried. Tanis brushed back a wing of reddish brown hair.

'Tanthalas,' Flint said, nodding.

The half-elf echoed Flint's nod. 'Master Fireforge.'

They stood, both seemingly waiting for the other to make the first move.

Finally, Flint gestured at the pond. 'Watching the fish?' he asked. Brilliant start, he thought.

Tanis nodded.

'Why?'

The half-elf looked surprised, then thoughtful. His answer, when it finally came, was delivered in a nearly inaudible tone. 'They remind me of someone.' The half-elf didn't meet his gaze. Flint nodded. 'Who?'

Tanis looked up sullenly. 'Everybody here.'

'The elves?'

The half-elf signaled assent.

'Why?' Flint pressed again.

Tanis kicked a clod of moss. 'They're satisfied with what they've got. They never change. They never leave here except to die.'

'And you're different?' Flint asked.

Tanis drew his lips into a straight line. 'Someday I'm leaving here.'

Flint waited for the half-elf to say something else, but Tanis seemed to consider his part of the conversation over. All right, Flint thought; I'll give it a try. At least he's not slipping away into the shadows, for once. 'How was today's archery lesson?' the dwarf asked.

'All right.' The boy's voice was a monotone, and his eyes were focused on the pool again. Children chattered and screamed delightedly in the distance. 'Tyresian and Porthios and their friends were all there,' he added.

It sounded appalling, given the way Porthios's friends felt about the half-elf. Flint wondered what he could say to cheer up the Speaker's ward. 'It's suppertime,' he said, thinking, Sparkling conversation, Master Fireforge. What was there about this lad that rendered him conversationally inept?

Tanis smiled thinly and nodded his agreement. Yes, indeed, it was suppertime. The half-elf moved three paces to lean against another pear tree.

Flint tried again. 'Care to join me for'-What did one offer elven children? Although Tanis's thirty years would make him a young man in human years, a thirty-year-old elf was years away from being considered grown up-'some supper?'

'With elvenblossom wine, perhaps?' the half-elf asked.

Flint wondered if the Speaker's ward were laughing at him. The dwarf had become able to sip the perfumey drink without gagging-for state occasions, for example, when sharing the elven wine was part of court decorum. 'Ah, Reorx's beard,' Flint muttered, and he shuddered.

Tanis examined Flint, a half-smile still playing on his lips. 'You dislike that wine,' the half-elf finally said.

'No. I loathe it.'

'Why do you drink it, then?' Tanis asked.

Flint surveyed the half-elf; he seemed sincerely curious. 'As a stranger, I'm trying to fit in here.'

Off in the distance, a child's shrill laugh accompanied the shriek of a wooden whistle. At least one parent was going to be less than thrilled with Flint this evening. Tanis sneered. 'Are you trying to be 'one of the elves'?' he asked, almost contemptuously.

Flint debated. 'Well…' he said, 'when in Qualinost, do as the Qualinesti do. My mother used to say that, or something very similar.' He caught a whiff of baking venison, and his stomach growled, but he maintained his stance. Oh, how he wanted his supper. Oh, how he wished he'd never started this conversation. The half-elf kept sneering, but his eyes seemed to beg for reassurance, and the dwarf suddenly thought that maybe the sneer was directed, not at him, but at Porthios and Tyresian and the others. 'Don't try. Master Fireforge,' Tanis said.

'What?' Flint asked.

Tanis pulled a half-ripe pear from the tree, dropped it to the moss, and ground it under the heel of his oiled leather moccasin. 'Don't try. They'll never accept you. They don't accept anyone who's not just like them.' He kicked the fruit off to one side and stalked off without another word. Soon his figure was lost in the trees.

Flint walked slowly back into his shop, closed the door, and put the empty sack in the hutch. Somehow he