‘There, there, my boy,’ said Fizban, ‘this isn’t the end of everything!’
‘It isn’t?’ asked Gnosh, so miserable he finished a sentence.
‘No, of course not! You’ve got to look at this from the proper perspective. Why, now you’ve got a chance to study a dragon orb from the inside out!’
Gnosh’s eyes brightened. ‘You’re right,’ he said after a short pause, ‘and, in fact, I bet I could glue—’
‘Yes, yes,’ Fizban said hurriedly, but Gnosh lunged forward, his speech growing faster and faster.
‘We could tag the pieces,don’tyousee,andthendrawadiagram ofwhereeachpiece waslyingontheground,which—’
‘Quite, quite,’ Fizban muttered.
‘Step aside, step aside,’ Gnosh said importantly, shooing people away from the orb. ‘Mind where you walk, Lord Gunthar, and, yes, we’re going to study it from the inside out now, and I should have a report in a matter of weeks—’
Gnosh and Fizban cordoned off the area and set to work. For the next two days, Fizban stood on the broken Whitestone making diagrams, supposedly marking the exact location of each piece before it was picked up. (One of Fizban’s diagrams accidentally ended up in the kender’s pouch. Tas discovered later that it was actually a game known as ‘x’s and zeroes’ which the mage had been playing against himself and apparently—lost.)
Gnosh, meanwhile, crawled happily around on the grass, sticking bits of parchment adorned with numbers on pieces of glass smaller than the bits of parchment. He and Fizban finally collected the 2,687 pieces of dragon orb in a basket and transported them back to Mount Nevermind.
Tasslehoff had been offered the choice of staying with Fizban or going to Palanthas with Laurana and Flint. The choice was simple. The kender knew two such innocents as the elfmaid and the dwarf could not survive without him. But it was hard leaving his old friend. Two days before the ship sailed, he paid a final visit to the gnomes and to Fizban.
After an exhilarating ride in the catapult, he found Gnosh in the Examination Room. The pieces of the broken dragon orb—tagged and numbered—were spread out across two tables.
‘Absolutelyfascinating,’ Gnosh spoke so fast he stuttered, ‘because wehaveanalyzedtheglass, curiousmaterial, unlikenothingwe’ve everseen, greatestdiscovery, thiscentury—’
‘So your Life Quest is over?’ Tas interrupted. ‘Your father’s soul—’
‘Restingcomfortably!’ Gnosh beamed, then returned to, his work. ‘Andsogladyoucouldstopbyandifyou’reeverinthe neighborhoodcomebyandseeusagain—’
‘I will,’ Tas said, smiling.
Tas found Fizban two levels down. (A fascinating journey—he simply yelled out the name of his level, then leaped into the void. Nets flapped and fluttered, bells went off, gongs sounded and whistles blew. Tas was finally caught one level above the ground, just as the area was being inundated with sponges.)
Fizban was in Weapons Development, surrounded by gnomes, all gazing at him with unabashed admiration.
‘Ah, my boy!’ he said, peering vaguely at Tasslehoff. ‘You’re just in time to see the testing of our new weapon. Revolutionize warfare. Make the dragonlance obsolete.’
‘Really?’ Tas asked in excitement.
‘A fact!’ Fizban confirmed. ‘Now, you stand over here—’ He motioned to a gnome who leaped to do his bidding, running to stand in the middle of the cluttered room.
Fizban picked up what looked, to the kender’s confused mind, like a crossbow that had been attacked by an enraged fisherman. It was a crossbow all right. But instead of an arrow, a huge net dangled from a hook on the end. Fizban, grumbling and muttering, ordered the gnomes to stand behind him and give him room.
‘Now, you are the enemy,’ Fizban told the gnome in the center of the room. The gnome immediately assumed a fierce, warlike expression. The other gnomes nodded appreciatively.
Fizban aimed, then let fly. The net sailed out into the air, got snagged on the hook at the end of crossbow, and snapped back like a collapsing sail to engulf the magician.
‘Confounded hook!’ Fizban muttered.
Between the gnomes and Tas, they got him disentangled.
‘I guess this is good-bye,’ Tas said, slowly extending his small hand.
‘It is?’ Fizban looked amazed. ‘Am I going somewhere? No one told me! I’m not packed—’
‘I’m going somewhere,’ Tas said patiently, ‘with Laurana. We’re taking the lances and—oh, I don’t think I’m supposed to be telling anyone,’ he added, embarrassed.
‘Don’t worry. Mum’s the word,’ Fizban said in a hoarse whisper that carried clearly through the crowded room. ‘You’ll love Palanthas. Beautiful city. Give Sturm my regards. Oh, and Tasslehoff’—the old magician looked at him shrewdly—‘you did the right thing, my boy!’
‘I did?’ Tas said hopefully. ‘I’m glad.’ He hesitated. ‘I wondered...about what you said—the dark path. Did I—?’
Fizban’s face grew grave as he gripped Tas firmly on the shoulder. ‘I’m afraid so. But you have the courage to walk it.’
‘I hope so,’ Tas said with a small sigh. ‘Well, good-bye. I’ll be back. Just as soon as the war’s over.’
‘Oh, I probably won’t be here,’ Fizban said, shaking his head so violently his hat slid off. ‘Soon as the new weapon’s perfected, I’ll be leaving for—’ he paused. ‘Where was that I was supposed to go? I can’t seem to recall. But don’t worry. We’ll meet again. At least you’re not leaving me buried under a pile of chicken feathers!’ he muttered, searching for his hat.
Tas picked it up and handed it to him.
‘Good-bye,’ the kender said, a choke in his voice.
‘Good-bye, good-bye!’ Fizban waved cheerfully. Then—giving the gnomes a hunted glance—he pulled Tas over to him. ‘Uh, I seem to have forgotten something. What was my name again?’
Someone else said good-bye to the old magician, too, although not under quite the same circumstances.
Elistan was pacing the shore of Sancrist, waiting for the boat that would take him back to Southern Ergoth. The young man, Douglas, walked along beside him. The two were deep in conversation, Elistan explaining the ways of the ancient gods to a rapt and attentive listener.
Suddenly Elistan looked up to see the old, befuddled magician he had seen at the Council meeting. Elistan had tried for days to meet the old mage, but Fizban always avoided him. Thus it was with astonishment Elistan saw the old man come walking toward them now along the shoreline. His head was bowed, he was muttering to himself. For a moment, Elistan thought he would pass by without noticing them, when suddenly the old mage raised his head.
‘Oh, I say! Haven’t we met?’ he asked, blinking.
For a moment Elistan could not speak. The cleric’s face turned deathly white beneath its weathered tan. He was finally able to answer the old mage, his voice was husky. ‘Indeed we have, sir. I did not realize it before now. And though we were but lately introduced, I feel that I have known you a long, long time.’
‘Indeed?’ The old man scowled suspiciously. ‘You’re not making some sort of comment on my age, are you?’
‘No, certainly not!’ Elistan smiled.
The old man’s face cleared.
‘Well, have a pleasant journey. And a safe one. Farewell.’
Leaning on a bent and battered staff, the old man toddled on past them. Suddenly he stopped and turned around. ‘Oh, by the way, the name’s Fizban.’
‘I’ll remember,’ Elistan said gravely, bowing. ‘Fizban.’
Pleased, the old magician nodded and continued on his way along the shoreline while Elistan, suddenly thoughtful and quiet, resumed his walk with a sigh.
8
The Perechon.
Memories of long ago.
‘This is crazy, I hope you realize that!’ Caramon hissed.
‘We wouldn’t be here if we were sane, would we?’ Tanis responded, gritting his teeth.