When they paused for lunch, Selana settled herself wordlessly several yards from the group.
"Excuse me, Princess," Tanis called stiffly, "but do you think you could rouse yourself and fetch some water for our lunch?"
"If there's one thing I know, it's water," she retorted. Glowering, she snatched the small pan from his hand and half stomped, half limped toward the sound of rushing water.
Flint put a hand on the half-elf's forearm. Gray eyes probed the young elf's troubled face. "What's gotten into you, Tanis? You don't usually have such trouble getting along with people. You've been downright rude to the princess on several occasions."
Tanis shook his head. "I know, Flint, but sometimes she reminds me so much of Laurana and her stuck-up, royal ways." Laurana, Flint knew, was the daughter of Tanis's guardian, Solostaran. Her selfish love for Tanis had caused the trouble that made him leave his native Qualinost. "After so many years, I'm surprised that type of woman can still make me angry." He rubbed his face wearily.
"Someday you'll resolve your differences with Laurana," predicted Flint. "Selana and Laurana do have a great deal in common, not the least of which is an aristocratic elven upbringing," he agreed. "But don't punish one for the other's mistakes."
Lunch was assembled and waiting twenty minutes later, but Selana had not returned. After another twenty minutes, Tanis was irritated, but the elder dwarf was growing concerned.
"I'm sure she's fine, Flint," said Tanis. "She'd give a blast on the conch shell if she weren't."
Working on his maps in the warmth of the sun, Tasslehoff's head snapped up. "Uh, she probably would if she had it. I meant to give it back last night, really I did, but then we all fell asleep and it slipped my mind. I'll give it back first thing when I see her."
"If any of us ever sees her again," muttered Flint, frantically scouring the landscape with his eyes. "It doesn't take this long to get water. Come on, we've got to look for her."
"She probably got near the stream and just couldn't resist taking a swim," Tanis suggested reasonably, trying to quell his own growing concern. He trotted over the uneven, hilly turf next to Flint and Tasslehoff as they followed the sound of running water. "Haven't you noticed the way she's been splashing her face with water from her wineskin?
They pressed through some prickly shrubs and burst upon the stream bank. Selana was nowhere to be seen.
"Maybe she came upon the creek at a different point," suggested Flint. Without being asked, Tasslehoff ran some distance down the stream to the right, Tanis to the left. They rejoined Flint but could report nothing.
The dwarf was on one knee, examining the marshy ground near the stream. "Look at these," he said, pointing. "Here are footprints the size of Selana's."
"What are those?" Tas asked, directing their gaze to a confusion of animal prints surrounding hers. "They look cloven hoofed." He glanced up, puzzled. "Goats? Selana ran off with a herd of goats?"
Flint and Tanis's glances met and locked knowingly. "Not goats. Satyrs. They like elves and women and, especially, elven women."
Instantly, off in the near distance could be heard the melancholy wailing of reed pipes. Tanis tried to issue a warning, to clap his hands over his own ears, but the gesture came too late. He had heard the tune of a satyr pipe and was instantly charmed.
"What's that exquisite melody, and where is it coming from?" asked the bewitched half-elf, his eyes glazed over.
Smiling serenely, his keen dwarven ears cocked, Flint pointed his thick finger to a grove of aspen trees downstream along the river's edge. "I believe the music is coming from over there."
"Let's go!" hollered Tasslehoff happily, leading the way as the three companions skipped like children over the awakening landscape toward the plaintive sound of the pipes. Shrieking with delight, Tasslehoff plucked a milkweed pod and blew the silky down into Flint's face. Giggling, the red-faced dwarf gave Tas a playful shove that sent him tumbling in a merry ball down the slope. Head thrown back in laughter, Tanis scooped up the hapless kender and tossed him onto his broad shoulders.
They all pressed on toward the grove.
Stumbling through the ring of trees, they spotted Selana, her robe thrown open, revealing a tight tunic that came past her knees. Head thrown back joyously, she was dancing a jig in the center of a circle of six goat-men.
One of them poured a mixture of white and red wine into her open mouth, which she gulped happily.
Spotting the companions, the wild and frolicking half-man, half-goats waved them forward with their human arms, kicking up their hooves. In moments, the three travelers joined in the revelry, linking arms with their hosts and capering through the woods.
"Tasslehoff, Flint, Tanis, my good friends!" cried Selana, drawing them all up in a heartening embrace. She waved her hand to include the satyrs. "Meet my new friends, Enfield, Bomaris, Gillam, Pendenis, Kel, and Monaghan! Isn't their music enchanting?" she asked, her expression dreamy. "Play that little welcoming ditty again," she pleaded.
"Anything for you, dear Princess," rumbled the satyr named Enfield, his voice a beautiful bass. As one, the gathering of six goat-men tilted their short-horned heads and pressed wooden pipes to their lips. A lilting jig issued forth.
Happily entranced, Flint snatched a proffered jug of wine and raised it on his arm, smacking his stained lips as the rosy liquid dribbled through his beard. He passed the jug to Tanis, who sent it along to Tas.
Pendenis clapped the kender's small shoulder. "Life is too short to be serious, eh, little friend? Come, climb upon my back, and I will show you the merriment that
