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local ruling class?"
"Some might think that an advantage in and of itself, " said Melissa
quietly, but not so quietly that anyone missed it.
About this time, Fool's Gold romped up, lankier for his week of
privation but apparently none the worse for all his suffering. Whether
he had been released by the returning baron's men, or the magic finally
elapsed to allow an escape was unclear, but he seemed to be a dog
extremely pleased with himself. He carried a small whitish stick in his
jaws.
"With each experiment, we learn something new, " said the gnome. "We
can make a powered boat, but we need to solve this skipping problem.
Anchors. I think I'd better do more work in anchors. One that doesn't
weigh anything until you need it would be ideal. " Master Tugwaddle
began sketching something in the dirt, making his plans.
"We can say, " said Jengar, "that a great and terrible beast took your
lord from you. A great dragon of the sea. That would be the truth, if
not entirely honest. I don't think your baron knew the difference
between the two. He may yet live out there somewhere, perhaps on an
island far removed from us. At least I hope so, " he said, stressing
the word hope as he patted Fool's Gold on the head.
The dog yawned and dropped the stick. Lexi picked it up, held it aloft.
"It's the old baron's wand. Must have fallen into the bay when the Sea
Dragon took that big leap, then washed up on shore. "
"Only reasonable explanation, " muttered Jengar truthfully, if not with
complete honesty.
Jengar flung the wand back across the beach, and the golden-haired dog
went leaping after it. Lexi and Melissa held hands, Tug scratched out
his musings in the dying light, and the scribe caught the last moments
of the day for future tales.
And Fool's Gold laughed as he caught the bone wand in the air, rolling
over and over in the dying sunlight until his fur resembled ripe wheat
bending before a summer breeze, or gold spun into fine, soft wire.
Scourge of the Wicked Kendragon
Janet Pack
"But I was only... aaahhhh!"
Propelled by the shopkeeper's arm, the kender Mapshaker Wanderfuss
became a bird, sailing through the door and thudding into the middle of
Daltigoth's main street. Dust clouded around the kender. Indignant and
coughing, he levered himself to a sitting position.
"I was just looking at that silver box, " Mapshaker defended himself.
No one listened. "The shopkeeper said my pouch was open, but I'm sure
it wasn't. He must have bad eyesight. " The kender brushed at the earth
dulling his blue shirt and coughed again. Everyone's temper seemed
short, perhaps because of draconians recently spotted in the area.
" 'Way! Out of the way!" The metal-banded wheel of a large handcart
loaded with barrels aimed straight for Mapshaker's nose. The kender
scrambled to safety on the far side of the road as it lumbered past,
driving right over the place he'd been sitting.
A guard dog's huge jaws snapped inches from his shoulder. Mapshaker
made himself into a ball and rolled out of reach. Jumping up, he
pointed a shaking finger at the bristling dog.
"Good thing you're leashed. I can't imagine who would leave such an
unfriendly animal so close to passersby!" He shook himself, shedding
dust and rearranging his pouches, then took a closer look at the
building. Only one door, no windows. It might be a warehouse. The
kender grinned. Guarded by such a fierce dog, there had to be treasure
inside!
He was determining the best way to weasel into the building when the
sound of pounding from the blacksmith's shop across the street
intrigued him.
"I didn't steal that pastry, you know. " Mapshaker wandered into the
forge area and continued his explanation. "I only tasted it. After all,
one corner was hanging over the edge of the table. "
"I'm busy. Go away, " the smith said roughly, pumping the bellows until
the roaring fire made conversation impossible.
A merchant's messenger scurried by with a handful of accounts. Running
to keep up, Mapshaker attached himself to the tall young woman. "Then I
was thrown out of that shop for just looking at a silver box. Now my
shoulder hurts-"
"Out of my way!" The messenger brushed past and disappeared down a side
street. The edge of her cloak caught around Mapshaker's body, then
snapped away, twirling the kender like a top.
He staggered a couple steps, dizzy, then leaned against the
blacksmith's wall, his spirits lower than street dust. Everyone was too
busy to talk. If he were human or an elf instead, even a dwarf, surely
then no one would overlook him!
Two men hefted a heavy object, covered by a blanket, out of the
blacksmith's shop and onto a cart. The cloth slipped, revealing a long
metal spear with a peculiar appendage sticking out of the underside of
the shaft, obviously meant to fasten onto something, perhaps a saddle.
But what would be large enough to carry such a spear, Mapshaker
wondered, except maybe a dragon?
"What is that thing?" the kender asked. "What does it do? How does it
work? What do you put it on?"
"This is not kender business!" The men hurried to cover the weapon and
roll the cart out of sight. Mapshaker trailed them down a dark, narrow
side street. Suddenly his way was blocked by the largest human he'd
ever seen.
"Uh, hello, " gulped the kender, staring up into the man's cold eyes.
"Is this your alley?"
"Go, " the big man grated, pointing in the direction from which
Mapshaker had come.
"But I just wanted to see-"
"Seen enough, " the man snarled. Huge fists reached out, clamped on
Mapshaker's clothing. Flipping him around, the human giant pitched the
kender back toward the main street.
"Uff!" Mapshaker dusted himself off once again. "At least that landing
wasn't as hard as the first one. " Aiming himself toward the outskirts
of the city, he began walking.
A raindrop splattered against his shoulder, then another. In seconds,
stinging rain had soaked the kender and turned the road into sticky [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]