The dragon didn’t answer. Which was rude. Even for a dragon.
Tas stared up at it and realized suddenly that it was a very fierce looking blue dragon who wasn’t moving. His blue wings were outspread and his jaws open so that his fangs and sharp teeth gleamed in the light. His enormous claws were flexed, ready to rip apart his foe. His blue scales glinted as he was about to dive. But he wasn’t diving or biting or ripping. The dragon was just hanging there in mid air, in mid snarl, glaring down at Tasslehoff with bright gleaming eyes. Directly underneath the dragon was the dragon’s treasure, all in a huge mound on the floor, glittering and shining and sparkling in the light.
“I wonder how he does that,” Tasslehoff said, craning his neck to view the dragon.
He waited several moments to see if the dragon would leap or flap or dive or blast lightning bolts at him or do something.
The dragon continued to just hang there, suspended, glaring at him.
Tasslehoff’s neck started to get a crick in it. He lowered his head and rubbed his neck, and right there before him was the answer to one of his questions—the source of the bright light.
A dead wizard.
The wizards corpse, clad in white robes that must have once been quite sumptuous, but which were now moth- and mouse-eaten (not to mention the blood stains), was propped up against a wall. In the dead hand was a staff and the bright light was beaming from a large crystal atop the staff.
Tasslehoff felt a tingling in his fingertips that spread to his hands and all the way up his arms and into his head. That magical staff with its magical light was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen. Caramon’s twin brother Raistlin had owned a magical staff. Tasslehoff had always longed to examine Raistlin’s staff, but the wizard had threatened to turn him into a cricket and feed him to a frog if he’d so much as touched his pinky finger to it. And while being a cricket might be interesting, being fed to a frog didn’t hold much appeal, and so between that and the fact that Raistlin never let the staff out of his sight, Tas had never had a chance to study it.
Here was his opportunity.
Tasslehoff didn’t think this wizard would mind if he touched the staff, since the wizard was pretty much past the point of minding anything.
Ignoring the dragon’s treasure (after all, if you’ve seen one diamond the size of your fist, you’ve seen them all), Tas hurried over to look at the staff.
The light shining from the crystal was so bright that Tas had to squint to look at it. He reached out his hand, wrapped his fingers around the smooth wooden staff, and carefully and gently lifted it out of the wizards bony grasp.
At that moment, a great many things happened.
First, the light on top of the staff went out.
Second, there came an enormous crash as of something extremely heavy falling from a great height.
Third, he heard silence, followed by a pain-filled groan, followed by an angry snarl.
“Oops,” said Tasslehoff Burrfoot.
Now, those who have adventured in company with a kender will tell you that “oops” is the single most terrible word ever heard coming from a kender’s lips. (For many, it’s the last word they ever hear.) “Oops” means the kender has made a mistake. And though kender are very small people, they generally make very large mistakes.
This was one of them.
It did occur to Tasslehoff the moment he touched the staff that perhaps the staff’s magic was responsible for keeping the dragon suspended in mid-air and that by touching the staff he would disrupt the spell. Since he was touching the staff at the time, this notion came to him too late to do any good.
And, as it turned out, his notion was right. Touching the staff disrupted the spell and freed the dragon, who came crashing down to the ground, right on top of his treasure horde.
Tasslehoff thought fast.
“Oh, hullo, there!” he said cheerily, peering into the darkness and locating the dragon. “It’s me. Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Hero of the Lance.” He mentioned this in modest tones, then added quickly, “I saved you from the evil wizard who had put a spell on you. No need to thank me. I’ll just be going now. Good-bye!”
Tas’s lantern was by the opening of the chamber where he’d almost dropped it. Putting down the staff, so that the dragon wouldn’t mistake him for a wizard, Tasslehoff starting walking rapidly toward the exit.
An enormous blue-scaled paw slammed down on the floor right in front of him.
“Not so fast,” snarled the dragon.
Tas squinched shut his eyes, thinking he was going to be eaten. Then, figuring if he was going to be eaten by a dragon, that was a sight he wouldn’t want to miss, he opened his eyes again.
The dragon did not appear as though about to eat him. Instead, the dragon lowered his massive head until he was only a few feet from Tas and looked at him straight in the eye. The dragon’s own eyes glinted in the light of Tas’s lantern.
The dragon asked a most unexpected question.
“Um… do you know me?” The dragon winced, as though in pain.
“I beg your pardon?” said Tasslehoff, not sure if this was a trick question. Everyone knew that dragons sometimes asked trick questions that you had to answer correctly if you wanted to keep from being eaten. “I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”
“You said you saved me from a wizard,” the dragon continued gruffly. He sounded embarrassed. “That implies that you and I have some sort of relationship…”
Now the only relationship that came to Tas’s mind was that of “eater” and “eatee”, but he wisely did not mention this.
“I’m sorry,” said Tas. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Perhaps if you could explain it to me.”
As he was speaking, the kender tried to sidle his way around the enormous paw.
The dragon rumbled in his blue chest and shifted about uncomfortably on top of the pile of treasure. “It’s just that… I must have hit my head when I fell, because… it’s the damndest thing… but I can’t seem to recall my own name.”
“You can’t?” Tasslehoff asked, so amazed he came to a stop.
“No, nothing.” The dragon sounded glum. “And I’ve got a beastly headache. Do you happen to know… uh… my name?”
“George,” said Tasslehoff promptly. George had always been one of his favorite names and so few people were called George nowadays.
“George,” the dragon repeated. “Are you sure? George doesn’t seem the right sort of name for a dragon.”
“Oh.” Tas was disappointed. “You know you’re a dragon, do you?”
“Well, of course!” The dragon snapped. “I may have a large bump on my head, but I’m not an idiot. A gully dwarf could see that I’m a dragon!”
Tas had to admit that the wings, the tail, the fangs, and the blue scales did sort of give that away.
“And you are a kender,” the dragon continued. He added in a dour voice, “I seem to recall that as a rule I don’t like kender.”
“That was until you met me,” said Tasslehoff brightly. He had his plan all worked out now. “You see, we’re partners. Partners in crime. We’re thieves.”
“Thieves?” the dragon repeated, astounded.
“Two of the greatest thieves Krynn has ever known,” said Tas, who was now enjoying himself. He sat down on at large chest of gold bars and made himself comfortable. “You and I are notorious throughout Ansalon. Why”—he waved his hand—“just look at the loot we’ve accumulated!”
“This is… ours?” The dragon was awed. He stared around at the golden plates and the chests of steel coins and the jeweled crowns and diadems and scepters covered with pearls and lots of other objects too fabulous and numerous to be described.