was well enough to walk.
“Then one day I heard shouting outside my tent. At first, I thought the dragon had returned-we were not far from the Kenderwood, and I feared she would fall upon us and burn us for spite. But I soon realized the kender were crying out not in fear or panic, but with joy. I asked Stagheart to go find out what was happening. I thought, maybe, that somehow Father had survived, and had finally caught up with us.
“It wasn’t Father, though; it was Kronn, and he was alone. He came to visit me in my tent and told me what had happened at Blood Watch. We had won, and Father and Brightdawn had bought our victory with their lives.
“The kender threw a party that night. They danced and sang until dawn. I didn’t feel like celebrating, though. Then, in the morning, I had visitors: Kronn, Catt, and Giffel. They thanked us for what we had done-not just Stagheart and I, but Brightdawn and Swiftraven. Then they gave me this.”
Moonsong reached into her pack, which rested under the table. After a moment, she pulled a smooth, white object from it and set it on the table. It was a small bust, carved from bleached wood in Riverwind’s likeness. It captured the old Plainsman’s stem face and kind eyes perfectly. Caramon felt a rush of hot tears as he looked upon the sculpture.
“Kronn crafted this from one of the Kenderwood’s dead trees,” Moonsong stated, her voice thick with tears. “Mother and I would like to take it to the Last Heroes’ Tomb.”
“Of course,” Caramon said. “We can do it tonight when we’re done here. I’ll take you there.”
Moonsong tried to smile, then lapsed into silence, staring at the bust. It stared back at her, proud and serious.
After a while, Tika cleared her throat. “What happened after that?” she asked. “What became of the kender?”
The young Plainswoman blinked, startled out of her reverie, then nodded and went on. “They did what kender do,” she said. “After Kronn returned, they didn’t stay put much longer. Before another week passed, most of them packed and set out on the road. Most, but not all-Kronn stayed behind, with a thousand of the kender who had fought at Kendermore. Catt pleaded with him to come along, but he refused. ‘The ogres took many of our people as slaves,’ he said. ‘We’re going to try to free them. And then there’s Malys-she’s beaten for now, but she won’t be stopped. Someone needs to keep an eye on her, though, and make sure she doesn’t make too much of a nuisance of herself. And maybe, one day, someone will defeat her for good. When that happens, I want to be here.’
“So we left him there and set out on the road. The morning we left, Catt and Giffel were married. They led the Kender Flight north, and Stagheart and I went with them. I still wasn’t well enough to walk, so they carried me along with the other wounded.”
Moonsong paused, sighing. “It wasn’t an easy journey. You can imagine what people’s reactions were, when they saw thousands of kender headed for their villages. We were driven out, even attacked. We went on up the coast, but everywhere it was the same.
“Along the way, of course, our numbers dwindled.
“Then, when we were traveling through a mountain pass just beyond the Great Moors, we heard what sounded like an army coming the other way. The kender were afraid, thinking someone had sent soldiers to stop us from going on. Giffel went to scout ahead so he could sound an alarm in case of trouble.
“It wasn’t trouble at all, though; in fact, it was just the opposite. One of the messengers Father had sent out before the Flight began-a young kender named Blister Nimblefingers-had made it to the Knights of Solamnia. The Knights had sent a brigade to escort the Flight to Coastlund, where there were ships waiting to ferry them across the straits to Hylo, the kender homeland in Northern Ergoth.
“Stagheart and I remained with the Flight until we reached Estwilde,” Moonsong concluded. “By then, my wounds had healed enough for me to walk, so we left the kender and headed south through the hills, then across the New Sea. We returned to Que-Shu in the springtime, bearing word of what had happened.”
“But I already knew,” Goldmoon said softly.
Caramon and Tika looked at her, surprised. “How?” Tika asked.
The old Plainswoman reached into the neck of her pale blue tunic and pulled out a small, silver-steel medallion shaped in the form of two teardrops, joined end to end. “I gave this to Riverwind the day he left our village for Kendermore,” she said. “On the day after Mark Year-the day he died-a sudden impulse drew me to the Temple of Mishakal. I went inside and found this upon the altar.”
Caramon and Tika stared at the Forever Charm in mute wonder. A silence settled over the tavern. After a while, the old Plainswoman tucked the medallion back beneath her tunic.
“We would have come to Solace sooner,” she said apologetically, “but there was much to do. Among my people, the time of mourning for a chieftain lasts a full month. There were feasts, ritual hunts, funeral games to oversee. And there was also the wedding of my daughter and Stagheart of Que-Teh.”
“Wedding?” Caramon blurted, astonished.
Moonsong nodded. “We were married on the first day of summer.”
“Where’s your husband, then?” Tika asked.
“He remains in Que-Shu, leading the tribes while Mother is away,” Moonsong answered. “He is also war leader now. Wanderer has left Que-Shu. When he learned that Father and Brightdawn were dead, he took Cloudhawk, his boy, and rode out of our village. I do not think they will return soon.”
“And so I have lost two children, and my husband as well,” Goldmoon said quietly. For the first time since she had entered the Inn, a glimmer of sadness disturbed the serenity of her eyes. “But the strange thing is, that is not the heaviest burden to bear. What causes me the most grief is that Riverwind told no one he was dying until the end was near.”
Something inside Caramon gave way. He broke down, sobbing raggedly and covering his face with his shaking hands. “Oh, gods,” he groaned, his voice raw with pain. He cried quietly for a moment, then looked at the old Plainswoman with sore, red eyes. “Goldmoon,” he murmured. “He told us just before he left.”
She turned very pale, staring at him. Unable to meet her stricken gaze any longer, Caramon rose suddenly and walked out of the tavern, into the depths of the Inn.
Tika’s face was damp with tears. She reached across the table and took the old Plainswoman’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Do not be,” Goldmoon answered. “If I were to blame someone, it would be Riverwind, not you-but I cannot do that either. In my heart, I know why he didn’t tell me. He was protecting me, as he had tried to do all his life.”
Soon after, Caramon returned. He moved slowly, wearily, as he crossed to the table where his wife and the Plainswomen were. He did not sit; instead, he held something out to Goldmoon. It was a small, silver scrolltube.
“Riverwind gave this to me before he left Solace,” Caramon said softly. “He wanted me to give it to you after… after he was gone.”
Goldmoon looked at the scroll tube, then took it from his hand. “Thank you, my friend,” she said.
Grimacing, Caramon turned and brushed Tika’s shoulder. She touched Goldmoon’s arm, then stood and walked with her husband out of the room. A moment later Moonsong rose and followed them, leaving her mother alone in the tavern.
Goldmoon held the tube silently, watching the candlelight gleam brightly on its surface. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened it and pulled out the scroll within. She unrolled the parchment gently, her hands trembling. The writing upon it was spare, precise.
She stared at the words long into the night.
