Wanderlust

glances. 'Although I miss him terribly, he lived a fruitful life. It was his time. That is our way.'

She dried the last of her tears on the back of her hand.

'It is also our way that the ruler of our people must possess, by nature, the ability to foresee the future. My father could. He knew of his own impending death, though he kept it a secret until it was too late.'

'I get it!' cried Tasslehoff. 'You need the bracelet so that you can become queen of your people!'

Selana frowned at the kender and shook her iridescent head. 'No, I do not seek the crown for myself, but for my elder brother.'

Tasslehoff's brow knit in deliberation. 'Now I'm really confused. If he has the natural ability to see the future, why do you need a bracelet?'

A look of unbearable despair settled upon the sea elf's comely face. 'My brother Semunel is good and wise and strong, but for reasons only the benevolent god Habbakuk knows,' she sighed, 'he has not the natural ability. Semunel will rule well and long, but only if he ascends the throne. This he cannot do unless he demonstrates to the regents of the House of Law that he possesses the ability to see what will be. Without the bracelet, he will surely fail the test.'

Selana resumed her pacing. 'Semunel's deficiency was a secret shared between my father, brother, and myself-secret even from my mother. There are factions that would see House Sonluanaau end.'

Trying to calm the roiling emotions inside her, the princess focused her attention on a book from the carved shelf and fingered its spine. 'We hoped that perhaps the skill was latent and would eventually develop, but it never did… Now Father has died, and there is no more time to wait.'

Tanis cleared his throat. 'I don't mean to appear impertinent, but isn't it dishonest to deceive the regents- and ultimately the people-if your brother does not possess the skill your customs require? Perhaps Habbakuk had reason for not granting Semunel the ability.'

Selana slammed the book down on the shelf at Tanis's effrontery. 'Is it wrong to want to rule the people fairly, rather than hand rulership over to those who would misuse the power?' At that moment, she found the half- elf bucolic, with his homespun clothing and disheveled hair. The sea elf laughed contemptuously. 'What would you know of court politics, anyway, half-elf?

Tanis gave a humorless laugh of his own. 'More than I care to, my dear princess' he said dryly. Tanis's face was flushed with fury as he left the room and went into the kitchen.

'Gee, what's eating him?' asked Tas.

Flint noted the bewildered expression on Selana's face as well. He alone knew the reason for Tanis's strong reaction, but she could not have guessed the deep wounds her defensive words had opened. Flint didn't feel it his place to tell the sea elf that no one knew court politics better than Tanis, a victim of their viciousness.

The half-breed had survived a tortured upbringing in the court of the Qualinesti, as ward of the Speaker of the Sun himself. Many, many years had passed since the dwarf had met the unhappy young elf there. He had found in him a kindred spirit, another who could not live comfortably among his people. Tanis had suffered a terrible confrontation with his guardian-actually, an accusation of murder. Although vindicated, Tanis had decided he would fit in better as the only half-elf to live in the human village of Solace, with the only resident dwarf, Flint.

'Tanis, or Tanthalas as he is known among the Qualinesti elves, is much more complex than he appears on the surface,' was the old dwarf's only explanation.

Selana looked flustered. 'I'm sorry if I offended him, but I am preoccupied with finding my bracelet and unused to your customs.' She smoothed her indigo robe and headed for the door. 'Now, if we may, I'd like to begin our search for this bard person.'

'Yeah, I'm getting bored, too. Let's go,' said Tas, standing up and heading for the door.

Taken aback, Flint almost choked on the last swallow of his drink. 'Princess, I don't think you understand what we're about to undertake. Life on the trail is rough, uncomfortable, filthy-not at all civilized,' he added, hoping to strike the right note. 'You'd be more comfortable and much safer in Solace, while we go and retrieve the bracelet.'

'Absolutely not,' she said. 'I'm neither helpless nor unskilled,' she defended. 'I got as far as Solace by myself.'

Flint shook his head vigorously. 'I'm sure you'd do just fine on the trip, but once we find him we'll be up against a desperate thief.'

Tanis, who had been listening from the kitchen, added, 'You'd only slow us down, Princess. Just let us handle this.'

'Please, don't either of you patronize me,' she said stiffly. She addressed Flint. 'No offense, Master Fire- forge, but I left things in another's hands once before, and I'll not do it again.' Selana noted Flint's embarrassed scowl. 'I'll go with or without you.'

Flint had not known her long, but he had played at cards enough to recognize a bluff when he saw one, and headstrong Princess Selana was not bluffing. He could not have her traipsing about by herself. With a deep, rumbling sigh, he gave in. 'All right, you win.'

Selana allowed herself a smile. 'You'll see. I'll be quite a help.'

Standing in the archway to the kitchen, arms folded, Tanis clucked his disbelief.

Flint clapped his hands and pulled a cap over his salt-and-pepper hair. 'Well,' he said, ignoring Tanis, 'what are we waiting for?'

It was not, by anyone's account, turning out to be a good day, even for Tasslehoff. In the rolling foothills of the Eastwall Mountains, they had stopped to rest. Selana sat demurely on a dry stump; Tanis was on the ground at her feet, his back against it. Flint paced angrily before the kender, who lay on his stomach on the soft earth, his head propped up by his elbows, his eyes on the map spread before him.

'How do we know that mountain isn't new?' he asked defensively. 'They were springing up left, right, and center during the Cataclysm, you know-couldn't hardly spit without hitting a new one. This map of mine is perfectly good.' The kender gave it a thump for emphasis.

Having consulted one of Tasslehoff's many guides before leaving Solace, the companions saw that there were only three villages of any size to the north: Que-taw, Ravenvale, and Tantallon, and the only established route to the north went farther east than it needed before actually turning north. They thought they would save time by going cross-country, then cutting east in terrain that looked free and clear on Tas's map. They had traveled north out of Solace along the eastern shore of Crystalmir Lake and crossed into an area known as the Near Fields. For the entire overcast afternoon they walked north at the base of the Eastwall Mountains, looking for the range to stop so they could cut east. They had long ago passed the point on the map where the mountains should have ended.

'Tasslehoff,' Flint began patiently, 'have you ever, honestly, been to this area before? Did you make this map yourself?'

Tasslehoff looked sheepish. 'Not entirely. One day I just sort of found it in my pack, so I'm not exactly sure where it came from.' His eyebrows lifted in thought, and

he took a quill and bottle of ink out of his pack. 'I've been adding to it, though, and now would be a good time to mark in the rest of that mountain range, wouldn't it?' He scratched at the paper with his quill, biting his lip in concentration.

'There's no point in a lecture now, Flint,' said Tanis wearily, handing the dwarf a chunk of hard bread and a slice of jerky from his pack of supplies. 'Let's just eat something and press on.'

Flint took the food, dropped to the grass, and chewed. He looked up at the fading sunlight. 'This looks as good as anyplace to make camp for the night. Besides, I'm sure Selana's feet have swelled up like hams, now that she's been off them for ten minutes.'

All eyes turned to the bedraggled princess, who was munching on a crust of bread, having declined the offer of meat with a disdainful wrinkle of her nose.

Selana was, without a doubt, having the worst time of it. Her cheeks were speckled with dried, crusty mud from the numerous times she had slipped on the trail or tripped over her robe and fallen. Her beautiful blue robe was ripped at the hem, where merciless shrubs had latched onto it. Her soft leather boots were downright mud- caked and provided no cushion against the unyielding terrain. No doubt partly as a consequence, she had been most irritable and was keeping to herself and speaking only in response to direct questions, while refusing any offers of help.

'I'll be fine, really,' she protested weakly. 'I'm just unused to all this walking.'