"Well I've made things for folks who were obsessed with details before, but this was incredible. Every bit of that bracelet was designed and sketched out on those papers. And as if all that weren't enough, she handed me a sack full of copper ingots, gems, powders, and little jars of liquid that had to be mixed into the metal just so. She said, 'You'll find everything you need in this sack.' She even expressly asked me not to put my usual trademark on it."
Flint leaned back. "Naturally, I was a bit put off by that. I thought to myself, 'Why does she want an original Flint Fireforge if she doesn't want the signature?'"
Tanis was taken aback. "That is strange. I hope she paid you well for it."
"That's just it," said Flint, a puzzled expression on his face. "The whole thing was so fishy that I quoted her what I thought was an outrageous fee. She paid it, plus half as much again, up front, without flinching! I couldn't turn it down!"
Flint looked at the dregs of his ale, then pushed it away. "I followed those instructions to the letter, right down to burning them when I was finished. I kept the bracelet at my booth because she said she would come back to pick it up during the Spring Festival. I expect she'll be by any day now." At last the dwarf sat back on the bench again, satisfied that his story was finished.
Tasslehoff stared intently at the bracelet, now lying on the table. "No wonder you were so touchy about it. Who do you suppose she is, and what's the bracelet for?"
"I'm no clairvoyant," said Flint. "There's certainly something unusual about the bracelet, though, I'll grant you that. I'll just be happy to have it off my hands."
Tanis nodded. "It's obviously very important to this woman, whoever she is." He stretched and looked at the dying embers in the hearth. The inn's common room had nearly emptied. A sleepy-eyed Otik glared at them from behind the bar. "Anyone care for a last round?"
Following Tanis's example, Flint threw his arms back and stretched his face in a ferocious, jaw-breaking yawn. "No, I drank at least three too many already," he said, pushing himself away from the table. "Let's stagger home, Tanis, or I'll fall asleep here."
"What about my maps?" asked Tasslehoff. "You've hardly looked at them."
Tanis frowned, but his ale-fogged brain was unable to choose between going home and to bed, or staying to study the maps.
Fortunately, Tasslehoff provided a solution for him. "I'm staying at the inn tonight. How about if I stop by Hint's stall tomorrow and you can look at them there?"
Tanis was relieved to see that Flint had already shuffled toward the door and had not heard the suggestion. Tanis hastily accepted the idea, said his good-byes to the kender, and dashed after the drunken dwarf to keep him from falling off the bridgewalks.
Left alone in the stillness and smoke of the common room, Tas made his way up the narrow stairway to the sleeping floor in the inn. It had been a long, tiring day.
"I'll just rest a few minutes before I go to sleep," he mumbled to himself, collapsing onto the feather mattress in his small but tidy room. Though his eyes were closed, the bed spun dizzily. He was vaguely aware of something hard pressed against his breast in a most uncomfortable way. Propping himself up on his side, he fished his hand into his pocket and pulled out Flint's copper bracelet.
"How in the world did that get in my pocket?" he mused. Viewing it through half-closed eyes, he harrumphed in amazement. "I must remember to return it."
Unconsciously stuffing the bracelet back into his pocket, he rolled over and fell into the deep sleep of the innocent and inebriated.
Chapter 3
Inn and Out
A tooth-rattling snore popped Flint's bloodshot eyes open in bewilderment. He lay on his back in his bed, wearing a single heavy leather boot and just one leg of his muddy breeches. Craning his head around, he saw the familiar cupboards and chairs of his home in the hollowed-out trunk of a vallenwood. How did I get here? he wondered.
The last thing he remembered was sitting on one of Otik's comfortable benches at the Inn of the Last Home. It had been dark then. The muted light filtering through his parchment windows told him it was now daytime, and had been for some hours. Frowning, he sat up suddenly, then collapsed back onto the bed. His throbbing temples explained the lapse in his, memory. He'd really tied one on last night.
Then he saw Tanis. Still fully clothed in breeches, boots, tunic, and wool vest, the half-elf lay face-down on the plank floor near the fireplace. A small puddle of drool spread from his splayed lips with each drawn and exhaled breath. The old dwarf chortled heartily, in spite of the pain it sent through his head.
Startled, the younger half-elf woke, wiping spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. The ever-present feathered headband that held back his unruly, long russet hair had slipped down over his eyes, and he pushed it back to his forehead in annoyance. Spotting the amused dwarf, Tanis scowled. He rolled over slowly and sat up, cradling his head in his hands.
"Otik's ale sure tasted smooth going down," he moaned.
Nodding his head, more slowly this time, Flint pulled on the one pant leg that he'd managed to pull off before collapsing the night before. "Kicks like a mule the next morning, though," he said, adding "especially when you drink twice your weight of it!" He located his other boot under the bed and stuffed his foot into it, then straightened his fur-lined vest and tucked his rough-spun tunic back into his pants. "At least I managed to crawl into bed and get half my clothes off."
Tanis jibed him right back. "That's because you're older and have more experience at this.
