'Your friends are safe,' said the middle-aged male. 'We, too, have some questions.' At that, the mother stepped up to the hearth and swung out a small pot that had been heating over the fire. She filled a clay mug with steaming liquid from the pot and handed it to her mate, who in turn offered it to Tasslehoff.
'Drink this.'
Tas sniffed the concoction, wrinkled up his nose, and bobbed his head. 'I am a bit thirsty, thank you, but I'd prefer something cold if you have it.'
The father thrust the mug into Tas's hand and pushed it to the kender's lips. 'Drink it.' The white-haired phaethon turned his head to peer at Tasslehoff with his black eyes.
'If you insist,' Tas replied hastily. 'Something warm might be good. What is it? Poison?' As usual, the kender was more fascinated than frightened by the thought of some warm venom working its way through his veins. Would his tongue turn purple and his eyes bulge out? Would he drop dead right away, or linger, begging for one last-
'It is tea,' the phaethon cut into his machinations. 'It will help you to answer our questions truthfully.'
'Good heavens,' said Tas, relieved despite himself. 'You needn't drug me to get me to speak the truth. I'm happy to tell you whatever you'd like to know.'
The phaethon frowned. 'Just the same, we'd prefer you drink the tea. It will not harm you-' He clenched his quarterstaff-'nor will anyone here, unless you have something to hide.'
'Hide? Not me,' said Tas. 'Why, once-I'm drinking,' he said quickly, as the tip of the quarterstaff brushed his throat. Tasslehoff took the warm clay mug in his hands and drew a long pull of the steaming, pale green liquid into his mouth. Tas's eyebrows lifted in surprise. The truth tea was not nearly as hot as the steam suggested, and it tasted the way he imagined grass would if left to simmer for hours at a time-strong, bitter, yet refreshing.
'Who are you, and where are you from?'
Out of curiosity, Tas decided to test the tea by telling a lie. 'My real name is Lipsmacker Droolbucket-that other one is an alias.' The phaethons stared, stone-faced. 'I'm the crown prince of Solamnia.' Still no reaction, either from the phaethons or the tea.
He shook his head. 'I've gotta tell you, I don't think this 'truth tea' stuff works very well,' Tas confided. 'I just told some real whoppers and nothing came of it-I didn't gag, and my nose didn't even grow long, like in the story.' He decided to come clean, to avoid confusion.
'I'm not Lipsmacker Droolbucket,' he confessed. 'I really am Tasslehoff Burrfoot. And I'm no relation to the royal family of Solamnia, if there is one.' Having told the truth, the kender felt strangely better, though he wasn't sure why.
His expression still blank, the male phaethon pointed to one of the chairs before the hearth and indicated Tas should sit in it, which he did gratefully. It seemed to the kender that these phaethons had a tendency to stare a bit too much, and it made him feel on the spot, which was usually something he enjoyed. This time, however, he was squirming uncomfortably.
The male phaethon pulled a chair up before Tas and looked squarely into the kender's eyes before speaking. 'I would like to know why you are here.'
'Actually, I'd like to know that myself,' Tas responded. 'You guys brought me here-how about filling me in?' He looked expectantly from face to face, but no one seemed disposed to offer any explanations. The little girl phaethon giggled, and the mother silenced her with a stern glance.
'I will ask that question again,' said the man. 'Why did you come to the mountains?'
Tasslehoff flashed a smile of understanding. 'Oh, you don't mean 'here' here, you mean 'heeeere' here. It's sort of complicated, and I really should be getting back to my friends fairly soon, so I'll try to make this as short as possible.
'My friends and I-that's Tanis and Flint and Selana, only Selana isn't with us, 'cause she's up here somewhere looking for a bald wizard with a bracelet-but back to this bracelet Flint made. We need it for Selana's brother, only the wizard took it, as I said, and he's going to feed Rostrevor's soul to Hiddukel-I can't imagine what that would taste like. Anyway, the wizard got the bracelet from this zombie, only he wasn't a zombie at that point, just a guy named Delbridge who wasn't very honest- 'thief would describe him pretty well-and he'd gotten it from Gaesil, who seemed like a decent enough type, only I wouldn't want to be stranded way up here in one of these needle houses with his wife. She sounds like quite a shrew. And he'd gotten it from me, because I'd ended up with it after we left the Inn of the Last Home. Flint needs it back to give to Selana so she can give it to Semunel, who needs it because he can't see the future.' Tasslehoff drew a breath. 'There, I think that about covers it.' He smacked his lips and looked around. 'Do you have any more of that tea?'
'No!' the male phaethon said quickly. Both of the adult phaethons bent close to the white-haired one and conversed in low tones. Tas heard very little, and what he did pick up was in a language he could not understand.
'You're funny,' the little girl said to Tas, tugging at her tunic and smiling demurely.
'Why, thank you,' Tas said, a bit puzzled. He did not recall telling any jokes. But then, who knew what made phaethons laugh?
He nodded his head toward the three adults. 'What are they talking about?'
The young girl shrugged. 'They're deciding if you'll be allowed to live or not.' Leaning in closer, she whispered, 'Intruders usually aren't, but I think you have a better-than-average chance.'
Tasslehoff swallowed slowly, watching their heated exchange. The white-haired phaethon seemed disturbed and shook his head after every comment made by the other two. They appeared to be trying to persuade him of something. Finally, the younger male slapped his fist into his palm, his expression firm. The elder shook his head one last time and looked out a window, as if absolving himself. The younger man turned away and stepped up to Tas, his expression as stoic as ever.
He placed a hand on his chest. 'I am Nanda Lokir, potentate of our settlement. This-' He indicated the white-haired one-'is Hoto Lokir-Ulth, my greatgrandfather, in your language. My mate and adviser, Cele Lokir, and our daughter, Zeo.'
Tas took the introductions as a good sign.
'You are a very fortunate kender. It is our custom, after interrogation, to eliminate deceitful intruders to our valley. We are a peaceful race, but we value honesty and privacy above all else. You seem to have little regard for the absoluteness of truth and this weighs heavily against you in Hoto's eyes, but we all believe that you and your friends may perform an important service for us. I have sent for them to join us.'
Nanda walked to the hearth. 'Perhaps you are hungry?'
Tas nodded vigorously. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten. Before reaching Tantallon? Running through the market with Selana? Nanda's mate, Cele, opened a small pantry to the left of the hearth. From it she withdrew a wooden cutting board, on it a round loaf of golden-crusted bread. She handed Nanda a large bowl of stew of some sort. He placed it among the coals for warming. From another cupboard she took a crock of freshly churned, creamy-white butter. Slicing the bread, dotted with whole chunks of chewy grain, she lathered on the spread and handed a piece to the wide-eyed kender.
'This is wonderful!' he mumbled between rich mouthfuls. 'But living way up here, where do you get the churned butter, or even the cow for the milk?'
'We sleep and cook in our steeplehomes,' Cele explained, 'but we work the valley below. We do not wish to mingle with other cultures, so we are completely self-sufficient and produce no items for trade. We raise grains, fruits, and vegetables, herd sheep and goats, and keep rabbits and chickens, though Zeo continually tries to turn them into pets.' Cele smiled fondly at the little girl, stroking her long, curly hair.
Nanda pulled the bowl of heated stew from the hearth and dished up a plateful, rich with orange carrots, green baby peas, whole pearl onions, and petite chunks of tender meat in a rich brown gravy.
Tasslehoff was in heaven. He considered himself a true connoisseur of food, being quite a good cook himself. The kender closed his eyes after each delicious spoonful, savoring the blending of flavors with just the right amount of fresh herbs.
'I might have known we'd find him eating,' growled a familiar, deep voice. Tas opened his eyes and saw Flint and Tanis standing in the doorway, three more phaethons nearby. The dwarf's harsh words were contradicted by the obvious look of relief in his eyes. He was tugging his clothing back into place after his recent air trip.
'I'm glad to see you're OK, Tas,' said Tanis, looking hesitantly from Tasslehoff to the phaethons standing near him. Nanda nodded to the flyers and they called forth their wings and flew from the doorway.
'You're free to move about. Come, join your friend at table,' said Nanda, waving Tanis and Flint into the
