'Twenty-eight to five," said Tanis, scratching out the old figure and marking in the new one.
Although it was the middle of a workday, Flint was semi-retired and opened his shop only when he cared to deal with bothersome customers. He kept his tools clean and well sharpened, but some of them hadn't been taken down from their pegs in weeks. No longer did the grizzled dwarf have the passion for metalsmithing that had driven him to become a master of the craft, so skilled and inventive that even the elven race prized his work. It was the metalsmithing trade, in fact, that had first brought Flint and Tanis together years earlier, when the half-elf was a mere boy in Qualinesti.
Today Flint had proposed a little game of roosterball to prod Tanis out of his sulking mood. It wasn't succeeding. All Tanis could think about was Kitiara, who had left Solace a few months back without telling the half-elf where she was going. Flint, on the other hand, was in a whistling mood lately, because that irrepressible kender, Tasslehoff Burrfoot, had also been away, on a journey with Caramon and Sturm, for weeks now.
It was so peaceful when Tas wasn't around, Flint thought to himself at least once a day.
Tanis stood and walked over to the chalk circle, arranging the pebbles in the center. Then he paced back the required distance before turning to face the target. His tall, slender form seemed almost to contract with concentration as he swung the black stone forward and released it with a distinctive flick of the wrist. Despite his admirable technique, the stone rolled wide of its mark, glancing off the clutch of pebbles. Tanis hastened to the circle, but none of the pebbles managed to roll beyond the perimeter.
"Aw, too bad," said Flint, bringing his thick white eyebrows together in a semblance of a frown. Amusement danced in his eyes, however, and Tanis was not deceived.
"I cede the win to you," the half-elf said with irritation, his face wearing a sour expression. "There's no point in continuing with you so far ahead."
"Fine, fine," soothed Flint, walking over and picking up the stones, which he placed carefully in a wooden cup. Clearly pleased with himself over his margin of victory, the old dwarf nonetheless cast a sympathetic look at his young friend. "All this fretting over a woman!" he muttered, loud enough, he hoped, for Tanis to overhear. He took the cup and put it back in its place on one of the many neatly ordered shelves that lined his metalworking shop. "In more than one hundred years, I've never seen you carry on so. I've seen you fight and defeat ogres and brigands. I never thought you would be bested by a woman . . . ."
He stole a glance at Tanis, searching for a reaction. But the half-elf remained lost in thought, brooding, with his arms folded across his chest as he sat on one of Flint's high stools.
Flint turned back to the half-elf gruffly. "You owe me a copper all the same," he said pointedly.
That got Tanis's attention. "But we didn't finish the game," he protested.
"All the more reason," declared Flint huffily. "You said yourself that you ceded the win. Serves you right, grumping around about a woman so much you can't even finish a game of roosterball."
Peevishly Tanis reached into his pouch, felt around with his fingers, and came up with a shiny copper piece. Flint grabbed it greedily and inspected it closely, almost suspiciously, before stuffing the coin into his pocket. His little act was almost enough to bring a grin to Tanis's face.
A knock sounded at the door.
Opening it up, Flint saw one of Solace's many ragamuffins, a freckled ten-year-old named Moya, holding out a folded note while rocking back and forth on his heels.
"Message for Flint Fireforge," said Moya importantly, although of course he knew Flint Fireforge, as did most of the citizens of Solace.
Flint took the note, but before he could open and read it, Moya snatched the paper back and said, "That'll be one copper, puh-lease."
"One copper!" Flint fumed. "That’s highway robbery."
"Going rate," declared Moya flatly, stuffing the note into his back pocket beyond Flint's reach.
"One copper!" Flint railed. "I should read it first, and if I like what it says and who it’s from, then maybe I'd pay one copper! But why should I pay a copper for something I might not even want?"
Moya stood firm. Grumbling, Flint reached back into his pouch and gave the young messenger the copper that he had just won from Tanis.
Fuming, Flint slammed the door. He turned back toward Tanis and opened the note, which he already knew from the unique way that it was folded, in crisscrossing triangles, came from Caramon's twin brother.
Tanis read over his shoulder.
Flint,
I have reason to believe that Caramon, Sturm, and Tasslehoff are in great danger. Meet me at the place by CrystalmirLake. Bring Tanis.
Raistlin
Tanis's brow furrowed with curiosity. He wasn't sure what to make of this missive from Raistlin. With Caramon and the twins' half-sister Kitiara away, Raistlin had withdrawn from the remaining companions, becoming even more aloof than usual. Tanis knew that he rarely had been separated from his twin brother for very long, and the half-elf supposed Caramon's absence put Raistlin in a solitary and perhaps agitated mood. The robust Caramon normally cast a protective shadow over his weaker brother, but when Flint and Tanis had chanced to meet Raistlin at Otik's tavern several days ago, the situation had been reversed. It was the young mage who seemed preoccupied with the welfare of Caramon, whose return to Solace was overdue.
"Caramon said he would be back within a fortnight," Raistlin had insisted. "This isn't
