Canpho said nothing.
Kishpa said nothing.
Tanis, however, could not stay silent.
Rendezvous
Mentwiq stared in anguish as half-elf pushed his way to the clearing at the center of the crowd. "I know not the merit of these charges brought against the dwarf," Tanis said loudly, "but I have something to say that no one else has knowledge of." Mertwig flushed. He wanted to cry out, 'Traitor!" but he knew if he did so it would go badly with him. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and lowered his head as if to ward off a cold, hard wind. "You know little of me," Tanis conceded to the villagers of Ankatavaka. "And, to be honest, I know little of you. I do know sacrifice and bravery, though, and I saw it- and live to describe it-thanks to the dwarf who is now under suspicion."
Several elves murmured and shifted their weight. "The dwarf has lived here a long time," said an elf who had remained silent up until now. "Let's not be hasty." Several other villagers nodded their support.
Tanis waited for them to be silent. The late-afternoon sun bathed his hair in a reddish glow. His tooled leather also picked up an auburn warmth. Mertwig realized that Tanis would be far more comfortable tracking deer through the forest than addressing several hundred elves. Unlike Scowarr, Mertwig thought, the half-elf speaks out of duty, not love of attention.
Tanis plunged on. "Let it be known that Mertwig, the dwarf, came to my aid when I fought the giant spider. He saved my life at great risk to his own. For reasons he did not explain to me-modesty, perhaps?-he asked that I not give him his due."
Yeblidod glared around the group, daring them to criticize her beloved Mertwig.
"I break my word by saying this, for how can I remain silent?" Tanis continued. "I speak up for him now because such heroism seems hardly to match the picture of a thief that has been painted. I ask you all, would a thief risk his ill-gotten treasure-let alone his own life-to save a stranger from certain death?"
While the elves chattered among themselves, impressed by Tanis's argument, Mertwig heard Brandella say to Kishpa, "He speaks eloquently for your friend. Should you not do the same while you still have the chance7"
Mertwig moved his head slightly to catch the mage's response. Kishpa was crimson. "I warned Mertwig," the mage said sullenly. "He made his own choice."
"Then you think he's lying? You think he's guilty?"
"I… I don't know. I just-" The dwarf and Kishpa saw a change in Brandella's expression. The mage stopped speaking; Mertwig also felt his interest quicken. Something had agitated Brandella. He scanned the crowd and saw Tanis weaving his way in the pair's direction.
"What's wrong?" Kishpa asked his lover.
"Nothing." Brandella averted her face from Kishpa, unwittingly giving Mertwig a clear view of the heartache in her soft eyes.
"I know better," the mage insisted. "Please, what troubles you?"
She shivered. "I'll be fine. Just be still." Brandella made a gallant effort to control her emotions, calmly singing out, "Look, here comes Tanis," as the half-elf approached her on her other side. Tanis nodded pleasantly at Kishpa and then said something in Brandella's ear. Trembling ever so slightly, she nodded her approval, said a few words that the mage and the dwarf could not hear, and the half-elf quickly moved on.
Mertwig could see that all thoughts of his own dilemma had flown from Kishpa's mind. Something was happening between the half-elf and Brandella. And judging from Kishpa's set expression, the mage had vowed to find out exactly what it was.
"I've come to remind you of your promise," Tanis had whispered to Brandella. 'The battle is over. It is time for you to leave this place before you-and everything else here-vanishes. Meet me behind Reehsha's shack."
The weaver clung for a moment to the thought of staying behind, of disappearing when the old wizard could dream of her no more. There was something appealing in the notion of dying together in that way. But who would remember Kishpa if she were to die7 Who would keep his memory alive? She agreed to meet Tanis. Before the half-elf began pacing the garden, he had looked inside Reehsha's house, pleased and relieved to see that the fisherman was away. From where he stood, Tanis could not view the celebration on the beach, but he could see the shimmering waves of the Straits of Algoni. The sun soon would set in its depths, and the golden fire on the water's surface would disappear. He hoped he would vanish with Brandella just as quickly and easily. The half-elf suddenly felt his heart beating fast. Now that he was so close to fulfilling his promise to the old mage, he realized with a start, he had no idea how he was going to get back to his own time! Clotnik had told him that Kishpa would do it. But how? And when? Tanis was deep in thought when he heard a voice softly say, "I am here." She stood at the far side of the garden near the house. The setting sun's slanting rays caught her hair, giving her dark curls a becoming reddish glow- and setting Tanis's heart to an even greater pounding. He hurried to her.
*****
Brandella had told Kishpa that she was tired and going home. If there was one thing he knew about the woman, it was that lies did not come naturally to her lips. Distrust, however, came rather easily to him. The mage had begun trailing her at a safe distance. But Scowarr saw Kishpa leaving the celebration and rushed to join him. Tve got one for you," the funny man chimed. "Have you heard about the mage who always says no?" "No." "Caught you!" the human declared. Kishpa saw Brandella making a sharp turn away from the path that led to her home, and he frowned. "Don't like that one, huh?" asked Scowarr. Kishpa didn't answer. He quickened his pace, making a sharp right turn and following after Brandella. "Here's another one, " Little Shoulders persisted, keeping pace with the mage.
"Not now," Kishpa snapped, waving Scowarr away.
"What did I do?" Scowarr asked, his countenance a study in injured innocence. The little human could have had kender blood, the mage thought.
"I'm sorry," Kishpa sighed. "I have something personal to attend to. Go back to the beach, and enjoy yourself."
Scowarr scooted around the mage and halted in front of him. His smile was ingratiating. "How can I have a good time if my favorite wizard is angry with me?"
Kishpa stopped reluctantly. "I'm not angry with you," he said with considerable irritation as he watched Brandella turn yet again. It appeared as if she was taking a very roundabout route to Reehsha's shack. Why would she do that? he wondered. He sidestepped Scowarr and lengthened his stride, the funny man dogging him. The mage hadn't gone far, however, before a shrill cry brought him to yet another abrupt stop.
"It's Yeblidod," said Scowarr, looking back over his shoulder.
The dwarf's woman came to them on unsteady legs and with eyes swollen from crying.
"Kishpa, come back," she begged. "Come back to the beach and help my Mertwig."
"New trouble?" the mage asked.
"He needs you," Yeblidod said. She pulled at his robes, grabbed at his arms, wailing in her fear and pain. Although Kishpa was desperate to follow after Brandella, he did not have such a hard heart that he could refuse his old friend's wife. Casting a troubled glance in the direction in which Brandella had gone, he sighed deeply and retraced his steps with Yeblidod.
"I can't just leave without saying good-bye," Brandella said mournfully, staring out into the glimmering sea. She and Tanis had been sitting so quietly that a small flock of gulls had come to rest on the sand at their feet, obviously hoping the two had brought food to share.
Tanis knew there might be little time left, but he also knew how hard it was to part from those you love without saying farewell. He thought about Kitiara's abrupt departure. The gulls' hard, black eyes reminded him of the angry gleam in Kit's eyes as she'd stormed away.
Brandella saw the sadness in his face and seemed to know him for a kindred spirit. "Is it the leaving that hurts the worst, or is it the lack of a good-bye?" she asked plaintively.
"Both." He laughed harshly, thinking of the good-bye slap he'd received from Kit. "But it's better, in the end," he added thoughtfully, "to tell someone how you feel and to be told the same. Without those words to hold onto-for good or ill-you're just adrift."
Brandella pulled her shawl tighter against the twilight chill. "Are you adrift?" she asked.
His silence appeared to be answer enough. Brandella' made a sudden move to take his hand, then seemed to rethink the movement and merely sat quietly.
The weaver was like no woman he had ever known, Tanis thought, but she could not be his. It was driving him mad.
She broke the awkward silence, asking, "What should I do?"
Swallowing hard, he suggested, "Leave Kishpa a note. That way he'll always have your words. Hell have something to hold on to."
She thought about it for a moment and then slowly, sadly, said, "Yes, that may be best. Otherwise, I might not be able to part with him at all."
At that moment, Tanis remembered the enchanted writing instrument that Kishpa had given him. A band of sligs had been after it, the mage had said. He was right: they wouldn't find it here. He fished it out of the inside pocket of his tunic and handed it to her. "This was once Kishpa's," he said with feeling. "He gave it to me so that I might leave it in this time and place. From his hand to my hand to yours, I give it to you to write him his farewell."
She took it lovingly. It was wooden and plain, but that didn't seem to matter to Brandella. Her Kishpa once had possessed it.
"Thank you," she said, fighting her emotions.
Embarrassed, the half-elf said, "I ask but one thing. When you finish your note, leave the writing instrument behind. Don't take it with you."
"I will do as you ask," she said, throwing her arms around the half-elf in gratitude, the movement scaring off the half-dozen seagulls at their feet.
The smell of her hair, and the touch of her hands on his back, made Tanis light-headed.
A moment later she pulled away awkwardly. "Are you all right?" he asked in a whisper.
She nodded her head but did not meet his eyes. "I will go and write the note now."
He agreed too heartily, he thought. "Yes. Good. When it is done, meet me by the east gate of the village."
She had barely left his side when he called to her, "Please hurry!" He wasn't sure if he said it because he feared time was running out or because he simply needed to see her again as soon as possible.
*****
Scowarr didn't follow Kishpa and Yeblidod. He had watched Tanis, Kishpa, and Brandella, and had seen every move they had made. The funny man was a jester, but no fool; he sensed trouble was brewing, and he figured that as the savior of Ankatavaka, he had a duty to try to stop it. The arrival of Yeblidod had been his great good fortune. But Kishpa would not be put off for long. Scowarr figured to handle this himself, now, quickly, before the great victory of which he was so grand a part was marred by betrayal and murder.
Scowarr followed the path that Brandella had taken, hoping that his worst fears would not be realized. When he circled around Reehsha's shack, he discovered that they had.
Farewell notes
Tanis's defence of Mentwig had swayed mаnу of the elves of Ankatavaka. But Canpho had seen that Kishpa was unmoved; the mage had so little concern for the dwarf that the red-robed wizard had left without saying so much as a kind word about his old friend. With the celebrants arguing among themselves, each taking sides, the healer decided to settle the issue of Mertwig's guilt or innocence once and for all.
"I am sending a runner after Piklaker, the artist," Canpho said. "When he is brought back, he will tell us all how he was paid for his work. If he was paid in stolen goods, Mertwig will be punished. If he took a promise of work for payment from the dwarf, then it will go hard with the dwarf's accuser. So shall it be."
Everyone seemed pleased with Canpho's decision. All, that is, except Mertwig. "Unthinkable!" he cried, sputtering in his rage. "My honor remains in question? Am I to be considered a criminal until I am proven innocent on the morrow? The insult is too great!"
Yeblidod had sensed that Mertwig was in more trouble than he could handle. With her world seemingly crumbling around her, she had slipped away and run after Kishpa. He had always been her husband's friend. Surely he would not let Mertwig down now when he was needed most.
When Yeblidod returned a short while later with Kishpa in tow, Mertwig still stood railing against the injustice of Canpho's decision. Many among the elves had turned against the dwarf, but Kishpa had it in his power to rally the people behind his friend. But only if he so chose.
Mertwig did not see the mage; he was too involved in his own defense. Kishpa heard his old friend declare, "I've lived here my whole life. You all know me, yet it seems that the only friend I have in all of Ankatavaka is a virtual stranger!" At those words, the mage felt a deep shame-and he finally found his voice.
Interrupting Mertwig, the mage thundered, "He has more than one friend in this village, and I count myself as one!"
All heads turned to Kishpa. But not for long.
The dwarf was too hurt and angry with the mage to let him speak-no matter what he had to say. In a shrill voice, Mertwig shouted, "You had your chance to speak, Kishpa. You had many chances to speak, but you did not. Do you think I need your help now? Now, when the whole village has turned against me?"
"We have not turned against you," Canpho assured him. The faces in the crowd didn't reflect that reassurance, though.
"I side with you," said Kishpa simply.
Mertwig stomped, gesticulating, from side to side. 'Too late," declared the dwarf in a rage. 'Too late. I've had enough of this place. If I were an elf, this would not be happening. You would not treat one of your own with this contempt. I will not have itl No more. Yeblidod and I are leaving. We shall find a new home where our word will be trusted."
"Mertwig, no!" cried Kishpa, his face a picture of horror.
"You call yourself friend7" the dwarf challenged the mage.
"Yes. Of course I" Kishpa took several hurried steps that brought him within arm's length of his one-time companion. The rest of the elves stepped back from the two.
"Then make sure my son is sent to me when the ship returns," Mertwig said. 'That shall be your charge. Do you accept it? Or," he added sarcastically, "does it rankle against your lofty code of conduct to see to such matters?"
Kishpa went white. "I… I will look to your son," he said, chastened.
'Thank you. Now, make way for Yeblidod and me. We are leaving Ankatavaka with our honor and our dignity. Let no one say otherwise!"
Confused and unwilling to look at faces she had known for more than one hundred and forty years, the dwarf's wife took her husband's arm and walked with him past Canpho, past Kishpa, past everyone, into self- exile.
*****
The first thing Brandella did when she stepped through the door of her home was to rush to her loom. She lit one candle and feverishly went to work on the unfinished scarf she had planned to give Kishpa. It would be her farewell present. It had to be, for it was the very scarf that he had carried with him until his old age.
As she worked the loom, Brandella wept. Her tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the fabric below. When the scarf was finished, it bore not only her craftsmanship but her love.
Tenderly, she laid the scarf down on her bed, leaning it against his side of the long, down-filled pillow. With shaking hands, she took a piece of parchment from her table and sat down to write. The words did not come easily: Dearest to my heart-
I would never leave you if I had a choice. But Tanis has come for me, and I cannot refuse him. You see, he comes at your behest, through your own magic as an old man. This life that we live, he says, is not real. It is only as you remember it in your ancient days. In your old age, you think of me still. I love you for that-and for so much more. Just as you have not forgotten me, I promise that I will not forget you. And I will always love you. Believe that. Wear this scarf that I wove with my tears at our parting. But cry not for me because I will always be with you. Forever, Brandella
She thought of so many other things she might have said, so many memories she might have included to warm his soul, but she didn't know where to begin or how to end. So she left it at that, hoping that her declaration of love, unfettered by other thoughts or remembrances, would tell him most clearly how she felt.
She left the note on top of the scarf and headed for the door-until a thought flew into her head. She looked up at the ceiling and stared at the picture she had drawn so long ago. There she saw the image of Tanis carrying her away. But the dream that she had painted did not tell her if Tanis succeeded in his quest. What if Tanis failed? What if he were unable to take her out of Kishpa's memory? What if he escaped, but she did not; what would Tanis remember of her?
She rushed back to her table and wrote another note, this one for the half-elf. She read it over when she was finished and then closed her eyes to keep her emotions in check. One thing was certain: she knew Kishpa would not understand; he must not see it. She folded the note, put it in a metal box, and then remembered that she was to leave behind the writing instrument with which she had written both her letters. She placed the pen in the box with the note to Tanis, covered it with its lid, and then took the box with her as she rushed outside into the deepening twilight.
On her way to Ankatavaka's east gate, Brandella stopped at the spot where Tanis slew the giant spider. A warrior remembers all his battlefields, she thought, so it was here that she buried the metal box. Later, she would speak of this to Tanis. If he survived and she did not, she wanted him to know that he should never feel adrift.
The breach in his friendship with Mertwig was painful enough, but to find out that Brandella had deserted him was more than Kishpa could bear. He stood alone, sobbing quietly to himself, clutching the brightly colored scarf in one hand and her note to him in the other.
His mind raced with a thousand rancid thoughts of betrayal. She spoke of love in her note. What did she know of love if she could leave him feeling this way? What did she know of love if she could so casually disappear with a stranger? And this nonsense of being imagined and remembered in his own mind when he was old-how had the half-elf convinced her of that? Why did Tanis fabricate such lies?
"I should have let him drown," he shouted at the figures that Brandella had painted on the walls and ceiling. "I should have killed him a hundred times over for this crime he has committed in stealing away my Brandella. My Brandella! Not his! She might have been fooled by his cleverness, but she will learn of his deceit and come back to me more loving than ever. I shall get her back!" he vowed. "I must!"
But he did not move.
It still didn't seem possible that she had gone. He stared once again at the scarf and the note in his hands. Suddenly, he screamed something unintelligible, crumpled the letter, and threw it and the Scarf against the wall.
Even before they hit and fell to the floor below, he had scrambled after them, scooping them up quickly with the tenderness with which one might pick up a baby. They were all that he had of her. At least for the moment.*****
They stood at the east gate. Bloodstains still marred the ground where the enemy had been routed only hours before.
"I thought you had changed your mind," Tanis admitted.
"I considered it many times," Brandella replied uneasily. "If I were not used to Kishpa's magic, I would have thought everything you said was the raving of a madman. Even now, I wonder if I'm putting my life in the hands of someone from whom I should flee."
"My words of reassurance will mean nothing. Only when you see that you have been set free will you know that I have spoken the truth."
She stood without pretension, her arms at her sides. In the battlefield beyond, a meadow bird called, then was silent. "I am waiting, then."
The sun had set, and the only light shining on them came from a pair of torches that illuminated the east gate. Tanis took one of them in hand. "Follow me. There is a place we must go," he announced with more confidence than he felt. "It is from there that Kishpa's magic will deliver us."
Tanis took her by the hand and led her out of Ankatavaka through the darkening night. The air was sweet, and the half-elf imagined himself taking his woman for a walk underneath the stars.
Look at her, he thought, glancing over his shoulder. She comes so willingly, so lovingly, to be with her man. What a contrast with Kitiara! The swordswoman had done as she pleased; if anything, Tanis had followed her bidding. But Brandella… Tanis scowled. If only this night belonged to him and not to Kishpa. But what were these thoughts that the half-elf was thinking? He had come to do an old man's bidding and found himself contemplating ways to steal the mage's memories for himself. Tanis, not Mertwig, should be the one on trial, the half-elf thought. But Brandella smiled at him with such tenderness. Her hand fit his so perfectly-
Tanis stumbled into a tree stump, nearly losing his balance.
"Are you all right?" Brandella moved closer, carrying with her a scent of wildflowers and cloves. The darkness deepened her forest-green blouse to black. Her eyes shone in her porcelain face.
"Uh, I guess so," he said. To hide his embarrassment, Tanis waved his torch over the tree stump as if he were examining the cause of his misstep. A shadow crossed the top of the stump when the light passed near by. "Hollow," said the half-elf. "It seems we are close. This is where Scowarr saved my life. That means I was standing over there when I first appeared in this place." He pointed his torch toward the center of a grassy meadow.
For some reason-Tanis hoped it was Brandella's desire to prolong their time together-the two of them walked very slowly in the direction he had indicated. He still held her hand.
Finally, he said, "I think this is the spot where I appeared." He took a deep breath.
"Wait!" There was no fear in her torchlit face. Something else stirred there, but he did not know what it meant. "What is it?" he asked. Brandella spoke. "Should something go wrong-" "Nothing will go wrong. Kishpa said-" "Listen to me," she ordered, drawing him close. "If you should return to your world without me… if I cannot leave Kishpa's memory… if I should disappear… then go to the spot where you killed the giant spider. I left something for you there, at the foot of the barricade, buried in a box. It is only for you. For you, Tanis. Do you understand?" "Yes," he said. His mind, caught by her nearness, seemed to go blank. "It's time," he finally added. "Are you ready?" She closed her eyes and nodded. Holding her hand in his, Tanis called out into the darkness, "Kishpa! Bring us back! Brandella is yours again. Free her!" Nothing happened. "Kishpa!" "I am here." Kishpa's voice answered. Tanis felt a wave of relief. They would not be left to die in the mage's memory, after all. But then Tanis's body went rigid with shock. The voice was that of a young man, not an old mage lying near death. And Tanis felt the point of a knife held tightly against his back.