Flint rolled his eyes and crossed his thick arms.
Leaning forward on his elbows, Tanis was getting drawn into the bewildering assortment of scrawled maps laid before him. He picked up one of the bark scraps to examine. It looked nothing like a map, but was instead covered with strange, twisted scratches. "What's this?"
Tasslehoff bent close and squinted at the squiggles as he tried to read them. "That's a rescue message," he stated, "written in the script of Zhakar."
"Dare we ask?" mumbled Flint through his mustache.
"It's not sad, if that's what you mean. I got caught in a wizard's keep and . . ."
"After breaking in, no doubt," interrupted Flint.
"No, I did not break in. I just went in."
"Were you invited?"
"No, but nobody told me to stay out. If that wizard was so concerned about privacy, he should have locked his door. So I walked in to have a look around, because I'd never been in a wizard's keep before, and this shriveled old stick of a man got all excited and had his guards, who were just about the ugliest things I've ever seen on three legs, lock me in a cell.
"I stayed there for a few days, thinking the wizard would cool off and let me go, only he didn't seem like the forgiving type. So finally I scratched out this rescue message on a piece of bark, figuring maybe I could slip it to one of the locals and get myself rescued."
"Good thinking," said Tanis. "Obviously it worked."
Tas shook his head. "No locals ever came around to get it. I had to trick my way out.
"The wizard came to check on me one day because he needed some rendered hobgoblin fat and he was having a hard time getting any. I suspect he was wondering whether rendered kender would work as well. Not being so curious about that myself, I persuaded him that I knew where I could get some of what he needed—even the chunky kind. So he let me go, on the condition that I come back with the grease as soon as possible. I think he tried to put some sort of spell on me to guarantee I would come back, but it didn't work.
"Which reminds me," he added, holding up a small, blue glass vial with a cork in the mouth, "don't ever open this in a closed room. It's awful-smelling stuff."
Tanis and Flint exchanged glances again, and Flint ordered another round.
"Here it is!" announced Tas. Triumphantly he spread out a tattered piece of vellum, frayed around the edges and stained in the middle. "I'm afraid I was running low on mapping material when I did this. Still, it's perfectly readable."
Tanis cocked his head this way and that, then turned the map slightly, then turned it a bit more. Finally he turned it around completely, but he was still puzzled. "Without wanting to sound too stupid, Tasslehoff, umm, what is it?"
"It's Abanasinia." Tas held out his hands as if to say, "Of course." Still Tanis drew a blank. Tas grabbed the map and rotated it about seventy degrees. "See? There's the EastwallMountains."
Tanis scratched his head.
"And the coast. There are the Straits of Schallsea across the north, and Newsea on the east."
At last Tanis caught on. "Oh, I see. This is the coastline, here. I thought that was part of the stain."
"That is part of the stain," corrected Tas, pointing with a thin finger. "This is the coast."
"Right," said Tanis. "I see it now."
"I told you this would be nothing but trouble," Flint sang out softly.
Tanis ignored the dwarf as he pressed his face close to the map, pausing occasionally to take swigs from his mug. Tasslehoff sat quietly waiting for words of appreciation or admiration.
He sat still as long as he could, which was about fifteen seconds. When the lack of conversation became unbearable, he blurted, "Isn't Tanthalas an elf name?"
"That's right," said Tanis, still studying the map.
"So how come you're not an elf?"
Tanis looked up slowly. "It's kind of a long story."
But Tasslehoff would not be put off. He crossed his arms expectantly. "I'm in no hurry."
"You might as well tell him now," Flint ordered, "because he's not going to let up until he gets it out of you."
Tasslehoff squirmed up to the edge of his seat as Tanis swallowed another mouthful of beer. "Well, a long time ago . . . oh, what the hell," he said, annoyed that he was making his heritage sound like a bedtime story. The half-elf set down his mug and then, using both hands, swept the long, reddish brown hair back on both sides of his head. Tasslehoff gasped on seeing the elongated, slightly pointed ears.
"I don't get it," he said. "They're not elf ears, but they sure aren't human ears, either. They look like my ears, only twice as big. What are you, a giant kender?" Tas snickered behind his hand.
That remark brought an explosion of laughter from Flint. The dwarf lurched forward, spraying beer all across Tanis's back. "A giant kender! He's assayed you, my boy!" Wiping tears from his face, Flint was able to stop laughing only by looking away from Tanis. Just as he calmed down, Flint looked back again and the sight of his friend, with hair pulled back and ears sticking up, started the whole uproar over again.
More than slightly irritated, Tanis pulled his hair back across his ears. Tasslehoff tried hard to look concerned, but he could not keep his mouth from crinkling.
"No," stated Tanis, "I am not a 'giant kender'."
Tas snorted indelicately through his nose.
Piqued, Tanis's almond-shaped eyes narrowed. "My mother was an elf and my father was a human warrior. My mother never even knew his name. All he left me was mixed blood and
