his stylus. The nomads had taken his best instrument. He’d had a spare in his gear back at camp, and he held on to it for dear life. He had been writing all morning, even when conversation stopped. Mathi supposed he was compiling impressions of the territory and situation.
The forest was old and long-standing. Oaks and beeches predominated, interspersed with cedars so dark, their green fronds appeared black. The trees had reached great heights, growing unmolested since the dawn of time. Centuries of leaf fall had smothered all undergrowth, leaving the space between the soaring trunks relatively open. Passing through the forest was like traversing some enormous, columned hall. The air was still. Birds flitted in the high branches. Motes sank slowly through high lances of sunshine.
Tugging the packhorse reins behind her, Mathi’s mind turned back to her mission. Since discovering the general’s affliction, she had begun to wonder if she should continue with the plan to kidnap him. Would their creator prefer they left Balif to the mercies of his curse? Then there was her growing feeling that Balif should be left alone to deal with the human nomads and protect the kender.
Her mental juggling was halted by a small face popping up right in front of hers.
“Rufe!” she said. “You’re here now, are you?”
“Tall people say the strangest things,” he replied. “If I weren’t here, who would you be speaking to?”
Mathi pushed him aside with a theatrical sweep of her hand. Rufe fell in step behind her, gently patting Mathi’s pony.
A quick survey revealed hundreds of kender lurking and lolling in the forest. They perched on low branches, feet swinging; they dodged in and out of the columned trunks, playing tag. Some were doing tricks for the amusement of their comrades. Mathi saw one kender show how he could slip his arm out of his sleeve then leave behind a leather glove as a false hand. With his freed hand, he probed pockets, tossed rocks, and tied and untied shoelaces.
“What are we going to do with such folk?” Lofotan said. “The nomads will chop them down like wheat.”
Balif remained curiously optimistic. “If you must fight against a sword, and you have no sword, take two knives.” It was an old saying, but Lofotan only frowned when he heard it.
There was no camp to speak of, no central spot around which the kender gathered. The elf party walked on, leading their horses until the Longwalker appeared. The kender chief was, for him, grandly dressed in a white robe and buff suede boots too large for him. A gilded circlet crowned his head. From ten feet away Mathi could tell that the headgear was fake. The gold leaf was peeling at the edges, and the “gems” mounted on it were murky chunks of glass. Nevertheless, the Longwalker looked something like a leader of substance instead of just another short-statured vagabond.
“Greetings, wonderful General,” he said, beaming.
Balif shook his hand like an equal. “Hail to you, Longwalker. How have you come to this state? The humans have driven you to cover like a covey of quail.”
“Pah, it’s nothing. A few dark nights and we’ll slip away.” No one believed him, not even Rufe and the other kender listening. The nomads were too thick on the plain to evade.
“If I can help, please say so,” said Balif. “I am at your disposal.”
The Longwalker clasped his hands together and breathed, “How splendid! You can drive the riders away, can’t you, illustrious General?”
“With what? Juggling tricks?” muttered Lofotan.
“If necessary, even that, Captain.” Balif raised his voice for all to hear. “War is more than fighting and killing. The most potent weapon of war is here.” He tapped his temple. “More often than not, guile and artifice can overcome strength and ferocity.”
Cheerfully clapping the elf general on the back, the Longwalker and his companions escorted Balif to their fireside. Lofotan unhappily watched his commander.
To no one, he said, “Foolish at best and suicidal at worst.” Treskan, tramping by, asked him to repeat what he just said. Lofotan gave the scribe a frosty glance and moved on.
Mathi and Rufe brought up the rear. As the elves passed out of sight among the big trees, the kender said, “What about my payment? Where’s my horse?”
“Your job isn’t over yet.”
“Uh-huh, it is. Pay up, or I tell the general what you really are.”
“You’re too late,” Mathi lied. “He already knows.”
For the first time since meeting the kender, Mathi had the pleasure of seeing Rufe be genuinely surprised.
“He knows? And he still lets you ride with him? I thought he would tear the points from your ears for deceiving him.”
“General Balif is an unusual fellow,” Mathi said. “After all, he’s working for your people now.”
That the kender could not deny. He nodded sagely as though he believed her. He was about to leave when Treskan joined them. Keeping an eye on Lofotan and the general, he asked Rufe if he had penetrated the human camp yet.
“A few times.”
There’s a certain item he had, the scribe said carefully. It was taken from him while he was held in the humans’ camp. He wanted it back.
“What?” the kender wanted to know. Treskan described the talisman in some detail.
“Oh yeah, I remember that dingus. What’s so important about it?”
“I want it. It’s mine. Get it back as soon as possible, and I will give you-” Treskan stopped, stumped. What could he offer someone who was proud to own nothing but could get virtually anything his heart desired?
Mathi came to the rescue. She said, “What do you want, Rufe?”
“Pancakes.”
Used as she was to Rufe’s obscure reasoning, Mathi had to ask again. The answer was the same.
“Pancakes, with green berry syrup, butter, and cheese.”
“All right,” said Mathi slowly. “Treskan will make you pancakes.”
“I will?”
“I want to be paid in advance,” Rufe insisted. “Going in that camp is risky.”
The elves had flour in their supplies and maybe syrup, but Silvanesti did not eat dairy products as humans and kender did. Finding cheese and butter might be hard. Once again Mathi wished Artyrith were still there. He undoubtedly could produce pancakes from a glutton’s dream.
She explained their culinary dilemma. Rufe relented. “Have ’em by tonight,” he said.
Rufe wandered off in his aimless way, shrugging his shoulders now and then as if arguing with himself then agreeing to what he had said. Mathi and Treskan tethered the horses. Lofotan had ordered him to stand guard over them, but he had other things to do, such as finding ingredients for pancakes. Mathi suggested that he inquire with the Longwalker or the other kender. If anyone had butter and cheese in the wilderness, they would.
It was dark by the time he found all the ingredients. When the time came to cook Rufe’s bribe, there was no one around. He found Mathi seated under a lofty beech tree, dozing. He woke her quietly. She reacted by seizing his hand so swiftly, Treskan barely saw her move. She opened one eye.
“What is going on?” she said in a hushed tone.
“Nothing. I found what I need for Rufe’s pancakes, but everyone seems to be gone.”
All day the woods had seen a constant though erratic procession of kender passing back and forth. Mathi, exhausted by her long ride and their escape from the nomads’ camp, learned to ignore the restless wanderfolk as she would the pounding surf or raucous street noises. Once she was awake, the absence of kender and the silence was startling-and a bit ominous.
Releasing Treskan, she rolled to her feet. Mathi sniffed the wind. She smelled smoke. Wandering forward, she used her nose to track the aroma. The forest, so comforting by daylight, took on a strange atmosphere by night. The massive tree trunks and heavy canopy of leaves overhead made the forest floor prematurely dark. No stars or moons shone through the roof of green. When night fell, it fell hard.
She followed an erratic course in and out among the trees, turning this way and that, grasping the invisible lifeline of smoke. Treskan trailed her, puzzled but unquestioning. Mathi decided the odor was coming from a number of small twig fires, not a great pyre like what the nomads used. Treskan pointed out a glimmer of light among the trees ahead. The odor of burning grew stronger as they tracked to the light. Soon they heard the drone
