Flint shook his head vigorously. "I'm sure you'd do just fine on the trip, but once we find him we'll be up against a desperate thief."
Tanis, who had been listening from the kitchen, added, "You'd only slow us down, Princess. Just let us handle this."
"Please, don't either of you patronize me," she said stiffly. She addressed Flint. "No offense, Master Fire-forge, but I left things in another's hands once before, and I'll not do it again." Selana noted Flint's embarrassed scowl. "I'll go with or without you."
Flint had not known her long, but he had played at cards enough to recognize a bluff when he saw one, and headstrong Princess Selana was not bluffing. He could not have her traipsing about by herself. With a deep, rumbling sigh, he gave in. "All right, you win."
Selana allowed herself a smile. "You'll see. I'll be quite a help."
Standing in the archway to the kitchen, arms folded, Tanis clucked his disbelief.
Flint clapped his hands and pulled a cap over his salt-and-pepper hair. "Well," he said, ignoring Tanis, "what are we waiting for?"
* * * * *
It was not, by anyone's account, turning out to be a good day, even for Tasslehoff. In the rolling foothills of the Eastwall Mountains, they had stopped to rest. Selana sat demurely on a dry stump; Tanis was on the ground at her feet, his back against it. Flint paced angrily before the kender, who lay on his stomach on the soft earth, his head propped up by his elbows, his eyes on the map spread before him.
"How do we know that mountain isn't new?" he asked defensively. "They were springing up left, right, and center during the Cataclysm, you know—couldn't hardly spit without hitting a new one. This map of mine is perfectly good." The kender gave it a thump for emphasis.
Having consulted one of Tasslehoff's many guides before leaving Solace, the companions saw that there were only three villages of any size to the north: Que-taw, Ravenvale, and Tantallon, and the only established route to the north went farther east than it needed before actually turning north. They thought they would save time by going cross-country, then cutting east in terrain that looked free and clear on Tas's map. They had traveled north out of Solace along the eastern shore of Crystalmir Lake and crossed into an area known as the Near Fields. For the entire overcast afternoon they walked north at the base of the Eastwall Mountains, looking for the range to stop so they could cut east. They had long ago passed the point on the map where the mountains should have ended.
"Tasslehoff," Flint began patiently, "have you ever, honestly, been to this area before? Did you make this map yourself?"
Tasslehoff looked sheepish. "Not entirely. One day I just sort of found it in my pack, so I'm not exactly sure where it came from." His eyebrows lifted in thought, and
he took a quill and bottle of ink out of his pack. "I've been adding to it, though, and now would be a good time to mark in the rest of that mountain range, wouldn't it?" He scratched at the paper with his quill, biting his lip in concentration.
"There's no point in a lecture now, Flint," said Tanis wearily, handing the dwarf a chunk of hard bread and a slice of jerky from his pack of supplies. "Let's just eat something and press on."
Flint took the food, dropped to the grass, and chewed. He looked up at the fading sunlight. "This looks as good as anyplace to make camp for the night. Besides, I'm sure Selana's feet have swelled up like hams, now that she's been off them for ten minutes."
All eyes turned to the bedraggled princess, who was munching on a crust of bread, having declined the offer of meat with a disdainful wrinkle of her nose.
Selana was, without a doubt, having the worst time of it. Her cheeks were speckled with dried, crusty mud from the numerous times she had slipped on the trail or tripped over her robe and fallen. Her beautiful blue robe was ripped at the hem, where merciless shrubs had latched onto it. Her soft leather boots were downright mud-caked and provided no cushion against the unyielding terrain. No doubt partly as a consequence, she had been most irritable and was keeping to herself and speaking only in response to direct questions, while refusing any offers of help.
"I'll be fine, really," she protested weakly. "I'm just unused to all this walking."
"That's right!" exclaimed Tasslehoff. "You probably swim mostly, considering where you're from. But don't you ever walk on the bottom of the sea?"
Selana looked at his curious face and became self-conscious. "Sometimes," she responded in a clipped voice.
"I'm glad you brought the subject up, because I have a number of very important questions," said the kender, who was poised to take notes. "Is there sunlight underwater? I'll bet not, so how do you see? Do your fingers and toes get all pruny, too? Are there doors, or even buildings? If not, how do you keep things from getting stolen?
"And what about talking? Anytime I've tried to speak underwater, all I get is bubbles and a snootful of water. So you probably have to put up with that all the time. What I really wonder is, how do you breath underwater? Perhaps you could show me how in a bucket sometime."
"Tasslehoff!" Tanis shrieked, aghast.
"What?" asked the kender, his eyes wide with innocence.
Instead of being offended, Selana laughed for the first time. "I don't blame Tasslehoff for being inquisitive about someone who's different—I confess to a curiosity about land dwellers, as well," she said to Tanis, before turning to the kender. "I don't know about the bucket, but I'll be happy to answer your questions, if you answer mine and help me to learn your customs."
"With pleasure!" Beaming, Tasslehoff looped his arm for her to take hold
