'Thank you,' she said, fighting her emotions.
Embarrassed, the half-elf said, 'I ask but one thing. When you finish your note, leave the writing instrument behind. Don't take it with you.'
'I will do as you ask,' she said, throwing her arms around the half-elf in gratitude, the movement scaring off the half-dozen seagulls at their feet.
The smell of her hair, and the touch of her hands on his back, made Tanis light-headed.
A moment later she pulled away awkwardly. 'Are you all right?' he asked in a whisper.
She nodded her head but did not meet his eyes. 'I will go and write the note now.'
He agreed too heartily, he thought. 'Yes. Good. When it is done, meet me by the east gate of the village.'
She had barely left his side when he called to her, 'Please hurry!' He wasn't sure if he said it because he feared time was running out or because he simply needed to see her again as soon as possible.
Scowarr didn't follow Kishpa and Yeblidod. He had watched Tanis, Kishpa, and Brandella, and had seen every move they had made. The funny man was a jester, but no fool; he sensed trouble was brewing, and he figured that as the savior of Ankatavaka, he had a duty to try to stop it. The arrival of Yeblidod had been his great good fortune. But Kishpa would not be put off for long. Scowarr figured to handle this himself, now, quickly, before the great victory of which he was so grand a part was marred by betrayal and murder.
Scowarr followed the path that Brandella had taken, hoping that his worst fears would not be realized. When he circled around Reehsha's shack, he discovered that they had.
23
Tanis's defence of Mentwig had swayed mаnу of the elves of Ankatavaka. But Canpho had seen that Kishpa was unmoved; the mage had so little concern for the dwarf that the red-robed wizard had left without saying so much as a kind word about his old friend. With the celebrants arguing among themselves, each taking sides, the healer decided to settle the issue of Mertwig's guilt or innocence once and for all.
'I am sending a runner after Piklaker, the artist,' Canpho said. 'When he is brought back, he will tell us all how he was paid for his work. If he was paid in stolen goods, Mertwig will be punished. If he took a promise of work for payment from the dwarf, then it will go hard with the dwarf's accuser. So shall it be.'
Everyone seemed pleased with Canpho's decision. All, that is, except Mertwig. 'Unthinkable!' he cried, sputtering in his rage. 'My honor remains in question? Am I to be considered a criminal until I am proven innocent on the morrow? The insult is too great!'
Yeblidod had sensed that Mertwig was in more trouble than he could handle. With her world seemingly crumbling around her, she had slipped away and run after Kishpa. He had always been her husband's friend. Surely he would not let Mertwig down now when he was needed most.
When Yeblidod returned a short while later with Kishpa in tow, Mertwig still stood railing against the injustice of Canpho's decision. Many among the elves had turned against the dwarf, but Kishpa had it in his power to rally the people behind his friend. But only if he so chose.
Mertwig did not see the mage; he was too involved in his own defense. Kishpa heard his old friend declare, 'I've lived here my whole life. You all know me, yet it seems that the only friend I have in all of Ankatavaka is a virtual stranger!' At those words, the mage felt a deep shame-and he finally found his voice.
Interrupting Mertwig, the mage thundered, 'He has more than one friend in this village, and I count myself as one!'
All heads turned to Kishpa. But not for long.
The dwarf was too hurt and angry with the mage to let him speak-no matter what he had to say. In a shrill voice, Mertwig shouted, 'You had your chance to speak, Kishpa. You had many chances to speak, but you did not. Do you think I need your help now? Now, when the whole village has turned against me?'
'We have not turned against you,' Canpho assured him. The faces in the crowd didn't reflect that reassurance, though.
'I side with you,' said Kishpa simply.
Mertwig stomped, gesticulating, from side to side. 'Too late,' declared the dwarf in a rage. 'Too late. I've had enough of this place. If I were an elf, this would not be happening. You would not treat one of your own with this contempt. I will not have itl No more. Yeblidod and I are leaving. We shall find a new home where our word will be trusted.'
'Mertwig, no!' cried Kishpa, his face a picture of horror.
'You call yourself friend7' the dwarf challenged the mage.
'Yes. Of course I' Kishpa took several hurried steps that brought him within arm's length of his one-time companion. The rest of the elves stepped back from the two.
'Then make sure my son is sent to me when the ship returns,' Mertwig said. 'That shall be your charge. Do you accept it? Or,' he added sarcastically, 'does it rankle against your lofty code of conduct to see to such matters?'
Kishpa went white. 'I… I will look to your son,' he said, chastened.
'Thank you. Now, make way for Yeblidod and me. We are leaving Ankatavaka with our honor and our dignity. Let no one say otherwise!'
Confused and unwilling to look at faces she had known for more than one hundred and forty years, the dwarf's wife took her husband's arm and walked with him past Canpho, past Kishpa, past everyone, into self- exile.
The first thing Brandella did when she stepped through the door of her home was to rush to her loom. She lit one candle and feverishly went to work on the unfinished scarf she had planned to give Kishpa. It would be her farewell present. It had to be, for it was the very scarf that he had carried with him until his old age.
As she worked the loom, Brandella wept. Her tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the fabric below. When the scarf was finished, it bore not only her craftsmanship but her love.
Tenderly, she laid the scarf down on her bed, leaning it against his side of the long, down-filled pillow. With shaking hands, she took a piece of parchment from her table and sat down to write. The words did not come easily: Dearest to my heart-
I would never leave you if I had a choice. But Tanis has come for me, and I cannot refuse him. You see, he comes at your behest, through your own magic as an old man. This life that we live, he says, is not real. It is only as you remember it in your ancient days. In your old age, you think of me still. I love you for that-and for so much more. Just as you have not forgotten me, I promise that I will not forget you. And I will always love you. Believe that. Wear this scarf that I wove with my tears at our parting. But cry not for me because I will always be with you. Forever, Brandella
She thought of so many other things she might have said, so many memories she might have included to warm his soul, but she didn't know where to begin or how to end. So she left it at that, hoping that her declaration of love, unfettered by other thoughts or remembrances, would tell him most clearly how she felt.
She left the note on top of the scarf and headed for the door-until a thought flew into her head. She looked up at the ceiling and stared at the picture she had drawn so long ago. There she saw the image of Tanis carrying her away. But the dream that she had painted did not tell her if Tanis succeeded in his quest. What if Tanis failed? What if he were unable to take her out of Kishpa's memory? What if he escaped, but she did not; what would Tanis remember of her?
