Gerard flushed, looked uncomfortable.
Lord Warren smiled at the Knight’s discomfiture. “I’ve heard you express yourself quite clearly regarding what you consider to be the ‘old-fashioned, hidebound’ way of doing things—”
Gerard shifted in his chair. “Sir, I may have, on occasion, expressed my doubts about certain precepts of the Measure—”
Lord Warren’s eyebrow twitched even higher.
Gerard considered that it was time to change the subject. “My lord, an incident occurred yesterday. There were several civilians present. There will be questions asked.”
Lord Warren looked grave. “Will this require a Knight’s Council?”
“No, my lord. I hold you in the highest esteem, and I will respect your decision concerning this matter. A task has been given me, and I need to know whether or not I should pursue it or if I may, in honor, refuse.”
“Who gave you this task? Another Knight?” Lord Warren appeared uneasy. He knew of the rancor that existed between Gerard and the rest of the Knights in the garrison. He had long feared that some quarrel would break out perhaps resulting in some foolish challenge on the field of honor.
“No, sir,” Gerard answered evenly. “The task was given to me by a dying man.”
“Ah!” said Lord Warren. “Caramon Majere.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“ A last request?”
“Not so much a request, my lord,” said Gerard. “An assignment. I would almost say an order, but Majere was not of the Knighthood.”
“Not by birth, perhaps,” said Lord Warren gently, “but in spirit there was no better Knight living.”
“Yes, my lord.” Gerard was silent a moment, and Tas saw, for the first time, that the young man was truly grieved at Caramon’s death.
“The last wishes of the dying are sacred to the Measure, which states such wishes must be fulfilled if it be mortally possible. The Measure makes no distinction if the dying person be of the Knighthood, if it be male or female, human, elf, dwarf, gnome, or kender. You are honor bound to take this task, Gerard.”
“If it be mortally possible,” Gerard countered.
“Yes,” said Lord Warren. “So reads the Measure. Son, I see you are deeply troubled by this. If you break no confidence, tell me the nature of Caramon’s last wish.”
“I break no confidence, sir. I must tell you in any case, for if I am to undertake it I will need your permission to be absent from my post. Caramon Majere asked me to take this kender I have here with me, a kender who claims to be Tasslehoff Burrfoot, dead these thirty years, to Dalamar.”
“The wizard Dalamar?” Lord Warren was incredulous.
“Yes, my lord. This is what happened. As he lay dying, Caramon spoke of being reunited with his dead wife. Then he appeared to be searching for someone in the crowd of people gathered around him. He said, ‘But where’s Raistlin?’”
“That would be his twin brother,” Lord Warren interrupted.
“Yes, sir. Caramon added, ‘He said he would wait for me’—meaning Raistlin had agreed to wait for him before leaving this world for the next, or so Laura told me. Caramon often said that since they were twins, one could not enter into the blessed realm without the other.”
“I would not think that Raistlin Majere would be permitted to enter a ‘blessed realm’ at all,” Lord Warren said dryly.
“True, sir.” Gerard gave a wry smile. “If there is even a blessed realm, which I doubt, then. . .”
He paused, coughed in embarrassement. Lord Warren was frowning and looking very stern. Gerard apparently decided to skip the philosophical discussion and continue with his story.
“Caramon added something to effect that ‘Raistlin should be here. With Tika. I don’t understand. This is not right. Tas . . . What Tas said. . . A different future. . . Dalamar will know. . . . Take Tasslehoff to Dalamar.’ He was very upset and it seemed to me that he would not die in peace unless I promised to do as he asked. So I promised.”
“The wizard Raistlin has been dead over fifty years!” Lord Warren exclaimed.
“Yes, sir. The so-called hero Burrfoot has been dead over thirty years, so this cannot possibly be him. And the wizard Dalamar has disappeared. No one has seen or heard of him since the Tower of High Sorcery vanished. It is rumored that he has been declared legally dead by the members of the Last Conclave.”
“The rumors are true. I had it as fact from Palin Majere. But we have no proof of that and we have a man’s dying wish to consider. I am not certain how to rule.”
Gerard was silent. Tas would have spoken up but for the gag and the realization that nothing he said could or would or should make a difference. To be quite truthful, Tasslehoff himself didn’t know what to do. He had been given strict orders by Fizban to go to the funeral and to hurry right back. “Don’t go gallivanting!” had been the old wizard’s exact words, and he’d looked very fierce when he’d said them. Tas sat in the chair, chewing reflectively on the gag and pondering the exact meaning of the word,
“ gallivanting.”
“I have something to show you, my lord,” Gerard said. “With your permission. . .”
Lifting the bundle, Gerard placed it on Lord Warren’s desk and began to untie the string at the top.
In the interim, Tas managed to wriggle his hands free of their bonds. He could remove the gag now, and he could go off to explore this truly interesting room, which had several very fine swords hanging on the wall a shield, and a whole case of maps.
Tas looked longingly at the maps, and his feet very nearly carried him that direction, but he was extremely curious to see what was in the Knight’s bundle.
Gerard was taking a long time to open it; he seemed to be having difficulty with the knots.
Tas would have offered to help but thus far every time he had offered to be of help, Gerard had not seemed to appreciate it much.
Tas occupied himself by watching the grains of sand fall from the top of an hourglass into the bottom and trying to count them as they fell. This proved a challenge, for the sand grains fell quite rapidly and just when he had them sorted out, one after the other, two or three would fall all in a heap and ruin his calculations.
Tas was somewhere between five thousand seven hundred and thirty-six and five thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight when the sands ran out. Gerard was still fumbling with the knots.
Lord Warren reached over and turned the glass. Tas began to count again. “One, two, three-four-five . . .”
“Finally!” Gerard muttered and released the ties of the bundle.
Tas left off counting sand grains and sat up as straight as he possibly could in order to get a good view.
Gerard pressed the folds of the sack down around the object, taking care—Tas saw—not to touch the object itself. Jewels flashed and sparkled in the rays of the setting sun. Tas was so excited that he jumped out of his chair and tore the gag from his mouth.
“Hey!” he cried, reaching for the object. “That’s just like mine! Where did you get it? Say!” he said, taking a good, close look.
“That is mine!”
Gerard closed his hand over the kender’s hand that was just inches away from the bejeweled object. Lord Warren stared at the object, openmouthed.
“I found this in the kender’s pouch, sir,” said Gerard. “Last night, when we searched him before locking him up in our prison. A prison that, I might add, is not as kender-proof as we thought. I’m not certain-I am no mage, my lord—but the device appears to be to be magical. Quite magical.”
“It is magical,” Tasslehoff said proudly. “That’s the way I came here. It used to belong to Caramon, but he was always worried for fear someone would steal it and misuse it-I can’t imagine who would do such a thing, myself. I offered to take care of it for him, but Caramon said, no, he thought it should go somewhere where it would be truly safe, and Dalamar said he’d take it, so Caramon gave it to him and he . .. .” Tas quit talking because he didn’t have an audience.