Flint and Tanis watched the two go.
"Well, if that isn't rich." Tanis scowled after them. "I ask a few intelligent questions—defend her privacy, for gods' sake—and I'm an impertinent jerk who doesn't deserve to live." The exasperated half-elf wagged his hand at the kender, who was happily seated next to the sea elf, engaged in conversation. "He openly insults her, and they become the greatest of friends. She probably finds his precociousness cute or something."
"Not jealous of a kender now, are you?" teased Flint, watching the half-elf out of the corner of his eye.
"Certainly not!" huffed Tanis. "I'd just like to understand the rules, that's all."
Still giving Selana a puzzled glance, Tanis set off in search of firewood. Feeling suddenly cold, he looked to the darkening sky and pulled down the sleeves of his deerskin jerkin for extra warmth. But the half-elf knew his chill had nothing to do with the weather.
Dinner, served two hours later, was braised ham steak, more bread, and dried p as soaked in ham juice until moist, then heated through. Flint soaked up the last of the tasty gravy with his bread, popped it into his mouth, and downed it with one satisfied gulp. He leaned back against a boulder rolled near the fire, patted his full stomach, and belched contentedly.
"Nobody can say you're not a good cook, Tasslehoff," he said. The dwarf locked his fingers behind his head. "Why doesn't someone tell a story?"
Tanis put up his hands. "You've heard all of mine a thousands times over."
"Selana knows a good one," blurted Tas.
The sea elf blushed. "I'm sure they wouldn't want to hear it." She was looking at Tanis.
"Sure they would!" exclaimed Tas. "Tell her you want to hear it, Tanis!"
Flint noticed the half-elf's chagrined expression. "We're interested in hearing anything about your people that you're willing to tell us," he said kindly.
"I'm always intrigued to hear of other customs and cultures," Tanis finally managed to say. He turned to the kender with a grin. "Since you've heard this story already, Tas, I vote it's your turn to go find some wood for the fire."
"It's dark beyond the firelight," said Selana. "Here,
take this, Tasslehoff." She reached into the depths of her robe and withdrew a small, curved sea shell. "It's a special conch shell. Hold it right here—" she placed Tasslehoffs hand on the rounded edge "—and point it anywhere you need illumination." Tas and the others were startled as muted yellow light poured from the opening in the shell.
"Wow! How does it do that?" asked Tas. "Is that how everyone sees underwater?"
"No, it's my own invention," the sea elf admitted vaguely.
"You mean, it's magical," cut in Tanis. "You didn't mention you were a mage."
"I am a spellcaster of some ability, yes," admitted Selana. "You never asked. Besides, after your comment back in Solace, I thought it might make Flint uncomfortable."
"You thought he might not let you go with us!"
"I don't believe he let me go, anyway," she said evenly. "I told him I'd go with or without him."
"Would you both stop talking about me as if I weren't here?" interrupted Flint. "I'll admit, Tanis, I don't care much for magic, but it hasn't caused any problems yet."
"And it won't," Selana stated firmly. "In fact, I was wondering how I would bring the subject up, but I cast a locate object spell earlier over Tasslehoffs map and have determined that the bracelet is in the village called Tantallon. That should speed things up for us."
Flint and Tanis exchanged looks. That was good news—Tantallon wasn't far away. They could find their way there with or without Tasslehoffs maps. But magic made them nervous, and both remained silent.
Anxious to change the subject, Selana turned to the kender. Fascinated by the shell light, Tas was busy turning it on and off by shifting his grip.
"If you run into any trouble, Tasslehoff," Selana said,
"just blow into the shell." The sea elf demonstrated by pressing her lips to the shell. Curious, Tas imitated her pose and let loose a great burst of air.
"That's terrific!" the happy kender crowed. "It sounds just like a trumpet!" He moved to blow it again, but Flint's hand pulled the shell from his lips.
"Remember, Tasslehoff, you're only to blow it if you're in trouble. And, believe me, you'll need help if I catch you tooting it for pleasure." The dwarf wasn't sure his warning sank in, for the kender, happy as a bumblebee, headed for the thicket of trees just beyond the fire's glow to gather wood and test the light's range.
Tanis settled back and tried to get comfortable. "You have an interesting name, Princess. What do those honorifics mean, 'Shark Chaser' and 'Moonbeam Laughter'?"
Selana looked at Tanis intently for just a moment, as if deciding whether his question was sincere or some kind of trick.
"Every Dargonesti child receives two special names, what you called honorifics, one from his mother and the other from his father. Only members of the family use them, though everyone knows them.
"Moonbeam Laughter is my mother-name, and a fairly common one. On bright nights, moonbeams filtering down through the waves delight small children, who chase them to and fro until their parents send them off to sleep.
"Shark Chaser is my father-name. He gave it to me when I was fourteen, and I am very proud of it."
Warming to the subject, Selana began to relax. "The Day of Redemption," she continued, "is a very important holiday to my people. It commemorates the day when Nakaro Silverwake, one of our greatest heroes, completed his quest to recover the lost sword, Tideripper. This was the weapon of Drudarch Takalurion, the founder of our nation and the very first Speaker of the Moons. Nakaro had to travel far into the realm of the koalinths and lacedons—the fish-goblins and sea ghouls—and face
