Margaret Weis - Heroes And Fools

The gnomes nodded in assent, although a few commented quietly that regular bathing didn’t seem such an awful sacrifice. Helg, however, wore a mask of abject terror. From the other side of the room, Halivar sniffled softly.

“Yes, we must all make sacrifices,” Cedwick said nobly, “but perhaps the greatest sacrifice shall come from the gnomes.”

At this, the gnomes glanced at him in bewilderment.

“Yes,” the apprentice mage continued, “already, they have sacrificed so much simply to be here. In the coming years, their life quests will go unfinished. Their committees back at Mount Nevermind will scorn them. It is quite possible that they may live their remaining years in exile. These brave souls choose to sacrifice their entire lives for magic. What greater sacrifice can there be?”

The gnomes looked about in disdain. A low murmur passed through the crowd.

Prodded by his fellow gnomes, Jobin rose to his feet. Gradually, all the gnomes joined him where he stood.

“Master Cedwick,” Jobin said, slowly and carefully, “upon consideration of the circumstances involved in this daunting task, the gnomes of Mount Nevermind must regretfully decline the honor of working with you and your esteemed comrades.

“Furthermore,” he went on, “we now have cause to believe that the God Trap Machine is not responsible for the disappearance of magic on Krynn. We believe that the data received from the Guild of Magic Analysis and Prestidigital Improvements may be erroneous. Thus, we have resolved to return to Mount Nevermind and begin a formal inquiry into the matter.”

Cedwick listened to the news gravely.

“We will truly miss your wealth of knowledge and ideas here in the Tower, but what you propose is quite important. Have a safe journey, Executive Vice-Director.”

The gnomes gave a loud cheer. Jobin assured Cedwick that it was an expression of profound disappointment.

As Cedwick watched them gather their materials onto the Veryveryhot, he felt a familiar tug on his robes. The young man knelt down to speak with the gully dwarf.

“High Robe,” Helg said, holding out the frog, “you take frog? Not need Helg?”

“Helg, must you leave?”

“Must,” Helg nodded fervently. “Have to tell shaman. Tell him you very smart High Robe. Tell him you have frog.”

“Thank you, Little One,” Cedwick said. “You can go home.”

The gully dwarf carefully placed the frog at his feet and scampered away into the forest.

“Master Cedwick?” came a timid voice from behind him. The apprentice turned and smiled at Halivar Wizardslayer.

“Yes, Halivar?” he said. “Are you ready to begin the sacrifice?”

Halivar blanched. “Actually,” the kender said, “I was wondering if-you know, if you really needed me.”

The apprentice mage put his hand on the kender’s shoulder.

“Halivar,” Cedwick asked, “are you having doubts?”

Halivar nodded, too ashamed to speak.

“But Halivar,” Cedwick said, “you were the one who started this. Without you, I never would have considered such an undertaking.”

“I know,” said the kender, “but I was thinking. Maybe I should keep wandering around for a little while longer. Maybe when I destroyed magic, I didn’t destroy all of it. I could keep looking while you study the issue here at the Tower.”

Cedwick smiled. “That’s an excellent idea, Halivar.”

Halivar looked up and grinned. “Is it? I mean, it is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” said the apprentice mage, grinning in return. “I would never keep a god against his will.”

The kender’s face filled with joy, “Thank you, Master Cedwick! You are truly a great wizard!” He added, “I’m really very glad I didn’t kill you earlier!”

“I’m rather glad you didn’t also,” the young man confided.

“Maybe my curse is over!”

“Just so,” smiled Cedwick. “Just so.”

The kender gave a jingling bow, which Cedwick returned. He smiled a very god-like smile and wandered away, blowing on a newly found whistle and admiring an empty inkwell.

Cedwick watched in silence as the kender disappeared into the forest. After a while, even the whistle faded away.

“Well?” came Master Laudus’s stern voice.

“It worked,” said Cedwick.

“Of course it worked. It was my idea.”

The archmage appeared from around the corner leading his horse and the pack mule.

“Master Laudus, I’m truly sorry-

“What’s done is done, Cedwick.”

Cedwick sighed in relief and went to help his master into the saddle.

“No, no, Cedwick,” said Laudus, stopping him. “You get to ride this time.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You have a very important responsibility.”

To Cedwick’s surprise, the old man lifted him off his feet and set him on the horse, backwards. The old mage knelt down, picked something up off the ground, and placed it in the apprentice’s hands. He swung himself onto the horse.

“You get to mind the frog.”

“Religion,” Daev said firmly, “should be kept safely away from ordinary folks.” He slapped the reins to make the horses go faster.

Kela laughed. “You’re just saying that because you nearly got burned as a heretic.”

“You’re on the run with me.”

She touched his sleeve playfully. “We’re not on the run. We’re a touring company. Besides, I want to be with you.” She waited for a reply, then sighed and peered at the road ahead, heat shimmers and all.

After a moment she said, “Is that a man by the roadside?”

Daev squinted, shading his hand. “Maybe. Yes.”

A kender’s head popped up between them from the wagon back. “Young or old? I can’t tell.”

“Old, maybe.” The man was robed head to foot and trudging along slowly, pulling a cart. “Not a casual traveler.” There was a flash of sunlight off something at the stranger’s waist. Daev finished tensely, “Armed.”

Kela put a hand on his arm in concern. “You think it’s-”

“I think our reputation has caught up with us. Frenni?”

The kender said excitedly, “A fight!”

“Not yet. Hide in the back.” Daev transferred the reins to his left hand and felt behind the buckboard until he found his sword hilt.

“You’re not leaving me out!”

“You’ll be our element of surprise,” Daev said soothingly, and added from bitter experience, “A kender is always an element of surprise.”

Kela touched the dagger at her side. “We outnumber him.”

“Yes,” Daev said dryly, “and you and I have at least ten months’ experience with swords. That ought to frighten any seasoned warrior.”

Frenni, muffled by the wagon curtains, sighed contentedly. “Finally, something exciting.”

“Something exciting,” Daev echoed unhappily and hefted the sword again.

They pulled alongside the figure, who looked neither to the left nor the right as they stopped their wagon. “Not afraid of anything, is he?” Kela murmured.

“That must be nice,” Daev muttered back. Aloud he said, “Do you wish some water?”

The man gestured to his cart without exposing his face. “Thanks, I have some.” Whatever had flashed at his waist was now hidden. He said, “Where are the two of you going?”

“Xak Faoleen,” Kela said before Daev could reply. “We’re-” she caught herself and finished lamely, “- hoping to work there.”

“To work.” The man sounded amused. “With a covered wagon painted many colors and pictures of warriors and lovers and dragons painted on it?” He laughed, and Daev tensed. It wasn’t a particularly sane laugh. “What sort of work?” the man asked, and waited.