"What about Krynn?" he said.
"I asked if you were from Krynn. You said the name of the god Paladine when we met, so I assumed you were from Krynn, like me."
Teldin's mouth fell open. "I am from Krynn," he said in amazement. "I had a farm in Estwilde, south of Kalaman. You're from Krynn, too?"
"I don't believe it!" Gaye shrieked. Every reptilian being within earshot turned in their direction. "Is this a pocket-sized universe, or what?"
Teldin was on the verge of asking her where she came from when he noticed a group of elves, probably diplomats or nobles, walking down the street toward him. He remembered something important then.
"Damn," he said, and got to his feet. "I've got to find the elves." He cursed himself then for letting her hear that.
"The elves? You have to see the elves? Was that your business here? I know where they're at. You should've just asked me back at the Greater Market. They're right in the middle of the Rock, on the edge of the High City." She pointed to Teldin's right, uphill.
Teldin belatedly realized how far they had been wandering in the last few hours. "We've got to get going," he said quickly. "I mean, I've got to get going. I have to go see them by myself." He quickly brushed off his pants. His magical cloak never got dirty or wet, so he didn't bother with it.
"Let's go, then," Gaye said brightly. She hadn't heard his last two sentences very clearly. "We'll go this way, around the dracons and down to the arena and up by the festival grounds. We'll reach the elven forest in a few minutes."
"But-" Teldin started, then had to run to catch up to Gaye's quick pace. As they passed the dracons and lizard men, the reptile-folk stopped hissing and croaking at each other and gave them both cold, unblinking stares until they were well down the street. I wonder if they think we're good to eat, Teldin thought, then shoved the question aside. He let go of the brass sword hilt and focused instead on keeping up with the girl with the color-splashed dress and anthracite hair.
Gaye chatted on as they went, now talking about the lore she'd picked up about the festival grounds. Something was pulling at Teldin's memory about Gaye. Had he met her before? He doubted it. Then why did she seem familiar to him? She didn't have much of a Krynnish accent, but the way she spoke, her appearance, her fearlessness, her face-what was it? He found himself staring at her magenta kerchief, where it covered her ears.
They had just passed the Rock's arena and were heading up the boulevard past the festival grounds when Gaye, in her happy rambling, started talking about Krynn and how she'd first made her way into wildspace.
"It was really the craziest thing. I'd just finished seeing some relatives in Kendermore when this big gnomish side-wheeler came right out of the sky and crashed, just smashed itself into little-"
"No," said Teldin, slowing abruptly and staring at Gaye with the beginnings of astonishment and horror. The childlike face. The endless talking. The nonstop traveling. The unremitting curiosity. The lack of fear. Great Paladine.
"What?" Startled, Gaye looked up at him and slowed down, too. "What's wrong?" "You're a kender," he said.
Gaye's dark eyes widened to enormous size. Her mouth fell open, mocking Teldin's expression. "Reorx's Hammer, do you really think so?" she said, stopping. "Is that where I got these?" She reached up and pulled off her kerchief.
Gaye's ears were pointed on the tops, just like the ears of all elves-and the ears of all kender. She saw his expression and grinned like a devil.
I've been traveling with a kender, Teldin thought with dismay. She's probably robbed me blind. His hands strayed to his belt purse, which was still strapped shut. That meant nothing, he knew; she could have gotten into it a dozen times by now. Krynnish kender were born thieves, magically descended from humans despite their superficial elven looks. Gaye's height had fooled him; most kender were willowy and only three and a half feet tall. Gaye was almost four foot six with the build of a human teenager, more muscular than he would have expected of a human girl. She could be almost any adult age. Kender lived longer than humans-and they made life hell for everyone around them, every day of their lives.
He had to ditch her before he saw the elves; they'd never let him near them if they knew anything at all about kender. She could keep the money she'd stolen from him, too. It would teach him to look before he leaped.
"Listen," he said abruptly. "I have to do some very important things, and I have to go alone, I've had a great time, and I appreciate your showing me around the Rock, but I do have to go."
"You have to go?" repeated Gaye, her grin fading somewhat. "Well, when you get back, we can-"
"I'm going to be a long time. I'm sorry. I probably won't see you again." He hated to be cruel about it, but this was best stopped now. He'd been a fool long enough.
Teldin looked up the street. The tops of some broadleaf trees in a densely forested region were now visible above the pavilions and booths at the end of the festival grounds' boulevard. It had to be the elves' forest. He turned back to Gaye and stuck out his hand. "Thanks again."
Gaye looked blankly down at his hand. She then took it in her own small hands, gently and carefully, and simply held it. Her touch was very soft and warm.
"Maybe we'll meet again anyway," she said hopefully, a trace of a smile coming back.
"Maybe," he said, and pulled away. In a million years, if I'm lucky, he added to himself.
Without a backward glance, Teldin set off for the forest. It was only with great difficulty that he could push the image of the wildspace eyes out of his mind.
Chapter Two
The first screams began at sunrise, only slightly muted as they entered through the frosted windowpanes of the old elven citadel. General Kobas Hamarka Vorr flipped a page as he finished reading another report at his oversized stone desk. He was in early today, hoping to plow through the mound of paperwork before him. The only interruption so far had been from his goblin aide, who had shuffled in bearing a wooden tray with an assortment of spiced meats, rice, fruit, and water for breakfast. The rest of the day, excluding meals, would be the usual ritual of reading, noting, signing, and moving on.
The only entertainment would be that provided by the elven prisoners, taken when their homeworld had been conquered by a humanoid naval fleet and the general's scro and ogre marines. Every hour, after the abrupt cessation of one elf's cries, a new voice would ring out its agony. This timing had proved helpful, and the general usually let the screaming set the pace of his work.
The present system of handling elven prisoners was a great improvement over the old one, the general reflected as he paused in his work. Many of the troops still preferred the dusk-to-dawn mass rituals now permitted only during religious holidays and military celebrations, when prisoners were many, but that system ate up too much time and required too many troops to manage the captives; it was simply wasteful. Now only three or four soldiers and a war priest could handle affairs, and the limited pool of subjects was stretched considerably. The timing also allowed for normal sleep, and the new ceremony still satisfied the legions. Best of all, it had a profound effect on those prisoners awaiting their turns on the red-stained granite block in the citadel's withered garden, and they offered up the most remarkable secrets in the hopes that they would be spared. That was always the most amusing part, thought the general, as he started the last of one batch of reports and took another bite of his meat and rice.
Sometimes the general would stop and listen to a particularly interesting cry a victim would make. He thought he could make out individual words in Elvish, most being pleas for mercy, but he was never sure. His hearing had only recently recovered from the day when the main gun on the Groundling Scythe had blown up in front of him during the landings on this curious little world, which the elves had named Spiral. The blast had otherwise merely bruised and cut the general in numerous places, thanks to his thick armor and innate fortitude, but it had also killed eighteen marines and his previous goblin aide, the third he had lost in only a year. Aides were damned hard to train properly, and getting along without them was inconvenient at best. He hoped the current one would last a while.