Barbara Siegel - Tanis the shadow years

"Why?" demanded Tanis. "Why can't it last? Why can't she stay here with me7" There. Now she knew. When he looked at her, her eyes were moist with tears. Yet even now, he didn't know if they were tears of regret or tears of pity.

With infinite sadness, Clotnik said, "She cannot stay because she is a memory. And like all memories, she must fade."

"If she didn't fade from Kishpa's memory," Tanis challenged, "she won't fade from mine."

"That was Kishpa's wish," the dwarf said. "But you will have to remember her only in your mind's eye. There is nothing we can do. She is fading."

Tanis ached to hold her in his arms, but now it was impossible. "Walk with me," he whispered to Brandella. He wanted to be alone with her.

Clotnik bowed his head as they passed him on their way to a nearby deer path. "Good-bye," he said in a low voice.

She stopped. Although trembling with her own fear, not quite knowing her fate, she kissed Mertwig's son on the cheek. There was no sense of touch between them, yet there was no doubt in Clotnik's mind that he had just been blessed.

Streaks of sunlight slanted low across the land as day was born. The light seemed to cut through Brandella as if she weren't there. She cried out and stumbled off the trail, searching for shadows.

Tanis hurried after her, calling out, "Don't be afraid."

"Afraid!" she bitterly replied. "After I fade, I will be just a memory, something that happened in your past. You will go on, but I will not."

"Brandella, oh, my Brandella," he said. Fallen leaves crunched under his knees as he dropped down beside her. "Think of it this way. My memory is a world by itself, like Kishpa's. You'll be alive there. And not a single day will pass when you won't find something new and fresh to discover."

She cocked her head to one side, her slender body seemingly afloat in the shadows. "Listen," he persisted, "memory and imagination are like colors on a painter's palette, constantly being mixed to create something new. And that's what you'll find inside me, Brandella: a whole new world that's yours to explore." He struggled to find words to reassure her. "Everything I remember about you will be changing. Some days, when I wonder what you were like as a little girl, I'll picture you as a child. And you'll be young again. Some nights I'll be walking along a city street-a place you've never been-but I'll be thinking of you, talking to you. You'll answer in my mind. You'll be anywhere and everywhere."

She clasped her hands, edging farther out of the light. "I hope what you're saying is true."

ТЙ never forget you," he promised as she faded away, blending into the shadows.

"And I'll always be with you," she said in a voice so soft that Tanis wasn't sure if he'd heard it. And perhaps he hadn't. It may have come from somewhere inside him.

Zarjephwu, the leader of the sliqs, bathed nis burned body in the pond that they'd found in the glade. They had followed the tracks of the bullboggs in the moonlight, but, fearing the night, decided to go no farther. They had not, however, given up the chase. As far as Zarjephwu was concerned, the woman who had escaped certainly knew where the enchanted quill was; otherwise why would those two have risked their lives to save her7 When dawn broke, Zarjephwu roused himself from the same water that had so recently soothed Kishpa's burned flesh. The slig summoned his warriors.

"We have come a long way in search of the enchanted quill," said the slig. "We will not stop now."

"But the others have bullboggs to ride. How could you let this happen7" complained Ghuchaz, a young, ambitious warrior who chafed under Zarjephwu's leadership.

The entire band seemed to hold its breath. To question Zarjephwu was tantamount to a death sentence. Silently, they backed away from young Ghuchaz, who quickly sensed that he had gone too far. Meanwhile, Zarjephwu licked the top of his snout while he considered the upstart's challenge. His tiny eyes flickered.

Sligs don't apologize, nor do they make excuses. Ghuchaz, however, was smarter than the others. Before Zarjephwu made his move, the young warrior hurriedly made his own, piping up to say, "I think I know how we can overtake the bullboggs and catch our prey."

Startled, the leader of the sligs held back from his intended attack, asking, "How?"

Ghuchaz smiled knowingly. Zarjephwu was bigger and stronger, but the younger slig was far more cunning. In a short while, he would be the head of the band… and he would soon possess the enchanted quill.

In order to lull Zarjephwu into thinking he was cowed, Ghuchaz put on a meek face and eased up next to his leader to whisper the plan in his ear. 'The bullboggs' tracks lead due west, and they're easy to follow," he said softly, tiny eyes flickering at his mates, who avoided the gaze of the young upstart. "We should head northwest; there's a settlement of humans there. We can raid them and get horses and bullboggs of our own. If the weather holds and there are no rain or dust storms, we can easily pick up the tracks of our prey again. We'll catch them in a matter of days."

Zarjephwu listened impassively. He knew the young one was right. It would be good to have someone this clever at his right hand. Or it might be dangerous. The latter thought was on Zarjephwu's mind when Ghuchaz suddenly lowered his head and bit deep with his long, sharp teeth into his leader's unprotected throat. But he did not rip. Zarjephwu had been caught off- guard, yet was able to strike back with such speed and force that Ghuchaz's head was crushed before he even knew he'd been hit with two rocklike fists. The young slig's body slid to the ground.

Blood ran down Zarjephwu's neck, covering his hard, scaled body. The importance of the enchanted quill was never more apparent. Such a deceit would not have been possible if Zarjephwu had had possession of the writing instrument. It would protect his band-and, especially, protect him-by foretelling the future. His bite wound, his burns, they were just pains he had to endure. They were not important. The only thing that mattered was getting that quill.

Clotnik paced in front of the bullboggs, the tethered animals watching the dwarf in stolid, buffalolike contentment. The dwarf kept looking down the shadowed deer trail, waiting to learn of Brandella's fate.

After the morning fog had burned off, Clotnik spied Tanis walking slowly up the trail, back to their camp. He was alone, his expression unreadable.

The dwarf's question was clear in Clotnik's face. Looking up at the sky, gazing anywhere but at Clotnik, trying to keep his emotions under control, Tanis answered, "She was afraid at first."

"And then?" Clotnik moved closer.

"I think she found hope."

The dwarf nodded even though he didn't understand what Tanis was talking about. Mostly, he just wanted to console the half-elf. "If there's anything I can do…"

Tanis thought for a moment. "Yes," he finally said. 'There is something. Tell me everything you know about Brandella. I want to hear it, and remember it all."

Clotnik talked, and Tanis listened. They sat on a hillock, catching cool breezes, as the dwarf told him the stories that Kishpa had passed down to him about Brandella. It helped, but even now the jealousy still gnawed at Tanis; he resented that everything he was learning was based on Kishpa's recollections. He wanted so much for her to speak to him directly.

Then he remembered that she had written him a note.

She'd told him that it was just for him, and that it was buried in Ankatavaka. He jumped to his feet.

"What is it7" asked Clotnik.

Tanis didn't answer at first. Doubt shot through him like an arrow. She had written the note to him when they were in Kishpa's memory. As far as he knew, it had happened only in the old mage's mind; in reality, Tanis had never been to the village. If he went to Ankatavaka, would the note actually be there? It didn't seem possible, but he had to find out.