Dragonlance - Tales 1 Vol 2 - Kender, DragonLance, Dragon Lance
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Tales
Volume 2
KENDER, GULLY DWARVES, and GNOMES
Edited by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
PDF by Ashamael
featuring "Wanna Bet?"
by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Interior Art by STEVE FABIAN
PENGUIN BOOKS
Foreword
"Tas? Tasslehoff Burrfoot!" we shout sternly, peering
down the road. "Come back with our magical time-traveling
device, you doorknob of a kender!"
"I'll come out," shouts Tas, "if you tell me some more
stories!"
"Promise?" we ask, peering behind bushes and into
ravines.
"Oh, yes. I promise!" says Tas cheerfully. "Just let me
get comfortable." There is a tremendous sound of rustling
and tree-branch cracking. Then, "All right, I'm ready. Go
ahead. I love stories, you know. Did I ever tell you about
the time I saved Sturm's life - "
Tas goes on to tell US the first story in this new
anthology set in the world of Krynn. "Snowsong," by
Nancy Varian Berberick, relates an early adventure of the
companions. Sturm and Tanis, lost in a blizzard, have only
one hope of being rescued - Tasslehoff Burrfoot!
"The Wizard's Spectacles," by Morris Simon, is a "what-
if" story. Tas always SAID he found the Glasses of Arcanist
in the dwarven kingdom. But what if ...
A storyteller tells his tales not wisely but too well in
"The Storyteller," by Barbara Siegel and Scott Siegel.
"There's a lesson you could learn from that!" we yell to
Tas, but he ignores us and goes on to relate "A Shaggy
Dog's Tail," by Danny Peary. It is a kender favorite,
undoubtedly passed down from generation to generation
although Tas, of course, swears that he knew EVERYONE
involved PERSONALLY!
Next, we hear the TRUE story of the demise of Lord
Toede in "Lord Toede's Disastrous Hunt," by Harold Bakst.
The minotaur race is the subject of "Definitions of Honor,"
by Rick Knaak. A young knight of Solamnia rides to the
rescue of a village, only to discover that his enemy
threatens more than his life.
"Hearth Cat and Winter Wren," by Nancy Varian
Berberick, tells another of the Companions' early
adventures in which a young Raistlin uses his ingenuity to
fight a powerful, evil wizard.
"All right, Tas!" we call. "Will you come out now? We
really MUST be going!"
"Those were truly wonderful stories," yells the kender
shrilly from his hiding place. "But I want to hear more
about Palin and his brothers. You remember. You told me
the story last time about how Raistlin gave Palin his magic
staff. What happens next?"
Settling ourselves down on a sun-warmed, comfortable
boulder, we relate "Wanna Bet?", Palin's very first
adventure as a young mage. And certainly NOT the type of
heroic quest the brothers expected!
Still sitting on the boulder, we are somewhat startled to
be suddenly confronted by a gnome, who thrusts a
manuscript at us. "Here, you! Tell the TRUE story about the
so-called Heroes of the Lance!" the gnome snarls and runs
off. We are truly delighted to present for your enjoyment,
therefore, "Into the Heart of the Story," a "treatise" by
Michael Williams.
"Now, Tas!" we call threateningly.
"Just one more?" he pleads.
"All right, but this is the last!" we add severely. "Dagger-
Flight," by Nick O'Donohoe, is a retelling of the beginning
of DRAGONS OF AUTUMN TWILIGHT as seen from a
weird and deadly viewpoint - that of a sentient dagger!
"Tas, come out now!" we shout. "You promised."
Silence.
"Tas?"
No answer.
Looking at each other, we smile, shrug, and continue on
our way through Krynn. So much for kender promises!
SNOWSONG
Nancy Varian Berberick
Tanis let the hinged lid of the wood bin fall. Its hollow
thud might have been the sound of a tomb's closing. Hope,
cherished for all the long hours of the trek up the mountain,
fell abruptly dead. The wood bin was empty.
A brawling wind shrieked around the gaping walls of the
crude shelter, whirling in through the doorless entry and the
broken roof. The storm had caught Tan-is and his friends
unaware at midday. Far below, in the warmer valleys, the
autumn had not yet withered under winter's icy cloak. But
here in the mountains autumn had suddenly become
nothing more substantial than a memory. Esker was a day
and a half's journey behind them. Haven was a two-day trek
ahead. Their only hope of weathering the storm had been
this shelter, one of the few maintained by the folk of Esker
and Haven as a sanctuary for storm-caught travelers. But
now, with the blizzard raging harder, it seemed that their
hope might be as hollow as the empty wood bin.
Behind him the half-elf could hear Tas poking around the
bleak shelter, his bright kender spirit undaunted by the toll
of the journey. There wasn't much to find. Shards of
crockery lay scattered around the hard-packed dirt floor.
The one narrow table that had been the shelter's only
furnishing was now a heap of broken boards and splintered
wood. After a moment Tanis heard the tuneless notes of the
shepherd's pipe that Tas had been trying to play since he
came by it several weeks ago. The kender had never
succeeded in coaxing anything from the shabby old
instrument that didn't sound like a goat in agony. But he
tried, every chance he got, maintaining - every chance he
got - that the pipe was enchanted. Tanis was certain that the
pipe had as much likelihood of being enchanted as he had
now of getting warm sometime soon.
"Oh, wonderful - the dreaded pipe," Flint growled. "Tas!
Not now!"
As though he hadn't heard, Tas went on piping.
With a weary sigh Tanis turned to see Flint sitting on his
pack, trying with cold-numbed hands to thaw the frozen
snow from his beard. The old dwarf's muttered curses were
a fine testament to the sting of the ice's freezing pull.
Only Sturm was silent. He leaned against the door jamb,
staring out into the blizzard as though taking the measure of
an opponent held, for a time, at bay.
"Sturm?"
The boy turned his back on the waning day. "No wood?"
"None." Tanis shivered, and it had little to do with the
cold. "Flint," he called, "Tas, come here."
Grumbling, Flint rose from his pack.
Tas reluctantly abandoned his pipe and made a curious
foray past the empty wood bin. He'd gamboled through
snow as high as his waist today, been hauled, laughing like
some gleeful snow sprite, out of drifts so deep that only the
pennon of his brown topknot marked the place where he'd
sunk. Still his brown eyes were alight with questions in a
face polished red by the bite of the wind.
"Tanis, there's no wood in the bins," he said. "Where do
they keep it?"
"In the bins - when it's here. There is none, Tas."
"None? What do you suppose happened to it? Do you
think the storm came up so suddenly that they didn't have a
chance to stock the bin? Or do you suppose they're not
stocking the shelters anymore? From the look of this place
no one's been here in a while. THAT would be a shame,
wouldn't it? It's going to be a long, cold night without a
fire."
"Aye," Flint growled. "Maybe not as long as you think."
Behind him Tanis heard Sturm draw a short, sharp
breath. If Tas had romped through the blizzard, Sturm had
forged through with all the earnest determination he could
muster. Each time Tas foundered, Sturm was right beside
Tanis to pull him out. His innate chivalry kept him always
ahead of Flint, blocking the wind's icy sting, breaking a
broader path than he might have for the old dwarf whose
muttering and grumbling would never become a plea for
assistance.
But for all that, Tanis knew, the youth had never seen a
blizzard like this one. He's acquitted himself well, and
more's the pity that I'll have to take him out with me yet
again, the half-elf thought to himself.
A roaring wind drove from the north, wet and bitter with
snow. The climb to this tireless shelter had left Tanis stiff
and aching, numb and clumsy with the cold. He wanted
nothing less than to venture out into the screaming storm
again. But his choices were between sure death in the long
black cold of night and one more trip into the storm. It was
not, in the end, a difficult choice to make.
"It won't come to that, Flint. We're going to have a fire."
Flint's doubt was written in the hard set of his face. Tas
looked from the wood bin to Tanis. "But there's no wood,
Tanis. I don't see how we're going to have a fire without
wood."
Tanis drew a long breath against rising impatience.
"We'll get wood. There was a stand of pine trees along our
way up. No doubt Sturm and I can get enough from there
and be back before nightfall."
Tas brightened then. Now there would be something to
do besides spending a long cold night wondering what it
would feel like to freeze solid. Shrugging closer into the
warmth of his furred vest, he started for the doorway. "I'll
come, too," he announced, confident that his offer would be
gratefully accepted.
"Oh, no." Tanis clamped both hands on the kender's
shoulders and caught him back. "You're staying here with
Flint."
"But, Tanis - "
"No. I mean it, Tas. The snow is drifting too high. This
is something that Sturm and I will do."
"But you'll NEED my help, Tanis. I can carry wood, and
we're going to need a lot of it if we're not to freeze here
tonight."
Tanis glanced at Flint. He thought he might hear a
similar argument from his old friend. He forestalled it with
a grim shake of his head, and Flint, recognizing but not
liking the wisdom of Tanis's decision, nodded agreement.
With a dour sigh Flint went to gather up the splintered
wood that had once been the shelter's table.
"It's something," he muttered. "Sturm, come give me a
hand."
Alone with Tas, Tanis went down on his heels. Mutiny
lurked in Tas's long brown eyes. There was a stubborn set
to his jaw that told Tanis that the only way he'd get the
kender to stay behind would be to give him a charge that he
considered, if not as interesting, at least as important as the
task of gathering fuel for a fire.
"Tas, now listen to me. We don't have many choices.
I've never seen a storm like this one come up so suddenly or
so early. But it's here, and tonight it will be so cold that we
will not survive without a fire."
"I know! That's why - "
"No. Let me finish. I need you to stay here with Flint.
It's going to be a dangerous trip out for wood. The tracks
we made only a short while ago are gone. I'll barely be able
to find the landmarks I need to get back to the pines. I have
to know that you'll both be here if we need you."
"But, Tanis, you'll NEED me to help with the wood-
gathering."
The offer, Tanis knew, was sincere . . . for the moment.
But as clearly as he might see through a stream to the
sparkling sand below, that clearly did he see the
mischievous kender-logic dancing in Tas's brown eyes. Tas
had no fear of the killing cold, the battering winds. The
prospect of the journey back to the pines held only joyous
anticipation and a chance to satisfy some of that
unquenchable curiosity that had brought the kender to the
crumbling edge of many a catastrophe before now.
Well, I'm afraid! he thought. And it won't hurt for Tas to
know why if it keeps him here.
"Tas, the best way to make certain we don't survive this
night is to scatter, all four of us, all over this mountain. That
will be the fastest way to die. We're going to be careful. But
Sturm and I have to be able to depend on you two being
here just in case one of us needs to come back for help.
Understand?"
Tas nodded slowly, trying to ease his disappointment
with the sudden understanding that Tanis was trusting him,
depending on him.
"And I can count on you?"
"Yes, you can count on me," Tas said solemnly.
Privately he thought that staying behind, no matter how
virtuous it made him feel right now, might be just the least
bit boring.
Despite the cold and the bitter wind chasing snow in
through the open doorway, Tanis found a smile for the
kender. "Good. Now why don't you give Flint a hand, and
tell Sturm that we should be leaving."
For a moment it seemed to Tanis that his charge
wouldn't hold. He saw the struggle between what Tas
wanted to do and what he'd promised to do written on his
face as easily as though he were reading one of the kender's
precious maps. But it was a brief war, and in the end, Tas's
promise won out.
Sturm emptied both his and Tanis's packs. He took up
two small hand axes, tested their blades, and prepared to
leave. Tanis, preferring his bow and quiver if danger should
arise, left his sword with Flint.
"I won't need the extra weight, I think," he said, handing
the weapon to the old dwarf.
"Tanis, isn't there another way? I don't like this."
Tanis dropped a hand onto his friend's shoulder. "You'd
be alone if you did like it. Rest easy; it's too cold out there
to keep us gone long. Just keep Tas safe here with you. He
promised, but . . ."
Flint laughed grimly. "Aye, BUT. Don't worry. We'll
both be here when you get back." A high squealing, Tas at
the pipe, tore around the shelter. Flint winced. "Although
whether both of us will yet be sane is another matter."
With grave misdoubt Flint watched Tanis and Sturm leave.
Tas sidled up beside him, standing close to the old dwarf.
He called good luck after them but he didn't think that they
could hear him above the storm's cry.
"Come along, then," Flint growled. "No sense standing
any closer to the wind than we have to. We might as well
find the best kindling from that wood. When those two get
back they'll be fair frozen and needing a fire as quickly as
we can make one."
Tas stood in the breached doorway for a long moment.
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