Margaret Weis - Heroes And Fools

Behind him, the draconian muttered to himself, “God?

Reorx is a god? Oh my. I only know of the Dark Queen“

“. . for the gods hie have been absent since the Chaos War. There were some who believed the gods were gone forever, but we Neidarbardians knew the gods would return. We continued to honor them in festivals and prayers. We knew! Hic ! Now we have been rewarded for our faithfulness. Reorx has chosen to appear before us! Reorx has returned! On this very day when we traditionally celebrate the Festival of the Forge, Reorx himself hie has returned!”

A cacophonous cheer went up as the dwarves and kender pressed themselves against the draconian. Some merely stroked his breastplate, which they oohed and ahhed over and said did not feel like metal at all. Others shook his thick hand, while some kissed the ground near his feet. Mugs clanked together and were quickly drained. Someone pressed a mug into the sivak’s hand.

“S’l brewed this,” an ancient dwarf drunkenly growled. “S’not been aged s’all that long, but. .”

“To Reorx!” There was another great cheer.

The draconian stood dumbstruck. “I. . I really must be going,” he said after a few minutes. He tried to remember how long it had been since he killed the dwarf and how much more time he might have to possess this body. Perhaps another hour at best, he guessed. Maybe two if he was fortunate. The hand holding the mug was nudged, and he raised it and drank the ale. It was thick and bitter and tasted good.

“Going where?” It was another one of the musicians.

The draconian studied his polished boots while he considered his reply. Someone refilled his mug. “Why, I am going to summon the rest of the gods, so they can all return to Krynn!”

There was another cheer, wilder and louder than before. More clinking of mugs that had been refilled. One of the kender musicians had picked up his horn and was blowing it shrilly.

“So, you see,” the dracordan added, as he drained the second mug, “I must be going. I must not keep all the other gods waiting.” He tried to take a step but found himself trapped by the crowd. He guessed there were nearly a hundred dwarves and a third that many more kender.

“Wwwhich gggods wwwill yyyou ssssummon fffirst? Hic .”

The draconian stared mutely at the speaker, who wobbled only a little more than the acting mayor.

“Mmmishakal?”

“Yes, I believe I shall summon Mishakal first.”

“Oh, good!” chirped someone buried in the crowd. “I shall drink to that! To Mishakal!”

“To Mishakal!” went up a cheer. “We’ll all drink to Mishakal!”

“Then Solinari? The god of good magic?” It was a middle-aged kender who was clutching a blue crystal mug in one hand and a flute in the other.

“Well. .”

“To Solinari!” Came another wave of cheering and toasting.

“What about Haba. . Habbbaba. . Habakkuk?”

“I intend to summon Habakkuk and then Solinari.”

There was another great round of cheering and toasting and drinking.

“Stay for a meal first!” This came from a dwarven woman at the edge of the crowd. Her face was smudged with flour, and she was waving a big wooden spoon in her hand. Chocolate dripped enticingly from it. “Summon the gods after you’ve tried the roast boar.”

The draconian’s belly growled again. “I suppose I could stay for just a little while.” Someone refilled his mug.

The whoops and cries of the dwarves and kender swelled to deafening proportions.

“I, hie Gustin hie Stoutbeard, acting mayor of Neidarbard, welcome Reorx the Forge to our feast!”

“I cannot stay long, you understand. Gods are very busy.” The draconian found he must shout to be heard over the ruckus.

The acting mayor nodded and drunkenly gestured toward the tables. In response the crowd quieted a bit and backed away, like a wobbly wave receding from a beach. Gustin held out his hand, and for an instant the sivak considered bolting toward the foothills. Though he had the stubby legs of a dwarf, he had the strength of a draconian as well as the speed. There was now considerable space between he and the short townsfolk, and in their general state of inebriation, they would not be able to catch him.

However, the boar smelled very, very good.

He sighed and took the acting mayor’s hand, the portly dwarf practically swooning at the honor. Then Gustin led the sivak toward the gaily decorated tables and directed him to the center and to the largest chair. The draconian suspected the chair had been intended for the acting mayor, as it was wide enough to hold his bulk, and “His Honor” was engraved on the back.

Someone was slicing the boar, releasing more of the wondrous scents into the air. A finely carved tankard was filled to the brim with the finest dwarven ale the sivak had ever smelled. It was clomped down in front of the transformed draconian. He downed the contents of his other mug, discarded the empty container, then took a sip from the tankard and found that it oh-so-pleasantly warmed his throat. Not so bitter as the other ale, this had a hint of sweetness. He quickly drained it.

The acting mayor squeezed into a seat to the right of the god, as one of the dwarven musicians took the place to the left. Within moments, the seats were all filled, and the air was buzzing with dozens of slurred conversations, all of them centering on Reorx and the gods.

The sivak’s tankard was refilled by a primly dressed dwarven woman who tried to stuff a napkin into the lip of the god’s breastplate. “Doesn’t seem to want to go in there,” she said, finally giving up and waddling off.

“Why did you pick our village?” The speaker was a child at the far end of the table. His mug was filled with cider, and the sivak noted that only the adults were allowed the privilege of consuming the ale. “Of all the towns in Thorbardin, Mister Reorx, why’d you come here?”

The sivak scrunched his dwarven face in thought, then took another pull from the tankard. His fingers seemed to feel thicker, as did his tongue. “Well, youngling, when I looked down upon Krynn from the heavens, I glimpsed Neidarbard and felt drawn to it.”

“To Neidarbard?” The child seemed flabbergasted. “There are much bigger towns inside and outside the mountains.”

The sivak nodded and stifled a hiccup. “Ah, youngling, there certainly are, but I could sense that the people of Neidarbard were fiercely loyal to the gods-even though we’d been away since the Chaos War. I could hear your prayers as I looked down on Krynn.”

“You could hear me?”

The sivak nodded and took another pull. He couldn’t remember ever drinking anything quite so delicious.

The child gasped and clapped and jostled his table-neighbors in the ribs. “He heard me!”

A thick slice of meat was lopped onto the draconian’s plate, and he nearly forgot himself as he went to grab it with his fingers. He watched the acting mayor wield a fork and knife, copied the gesture to the best of his ability, and fell to devouring the meal. In all the dwarven towns he’d passed through, he was certain he had never eaten anything quite so delectable. Of course, he’d never gone so long without a meal and been so hungry-and he’d never drank so much. He drained his tankard again as a second thick slice of meat was placed before him. He awkwardly gestured for a refill of the ale.

“Gustin’s hie cousin hie slew hie the hie boar hie yesterday,” an old dwarven drummer explained. “The largest hie boar we’ve hie seen in these hie parts in years. It must have been hie an omen of your hie coming.”

There was warm bread topped with the sweetest honey the draconian had ever sampled. “Best-Ever Honey,” he was proudly told. He ate it almost reverently and let a dollop of the honey rest on his tongue. He finally washed it down with more ale.