"Who wants you along anyway?" Kit flared, angry, her pride hurt. She had not anticipated failure. She slid

away from him, stood up. "Traveling with you would be like traveling with my own grandfather. Sturm and I

will have lots more fun without you."

Sturm appeared somewhat alarmed at this statement. The pilgrimage to his homeland was a sacred journey.

He wasn't going north to "have fun." Frowning, he smoothed his

mustaches and repeated that they needed to make an early start.

An uncomfortable silence fell. No one wanted to be the first to leave, especially now, when it seemed likely that

their parting would end on a discordant note. Even Tasslehoff was affected. The kender sat quiet and subdued, so

unhappy that he actually returned Sturm's money pouch. Tas returned the pouch to Caramon, but the thought was

there.

"I have an idea," said Tanis at last. "Let us plan to meet again in the autumn, on the first night of Harvest Home."

"I might be back, I might not," said Kit, shrugging with a careless air. "Don't count on me."

"I trust I will not be back," Sturm said emphatically, and his friends knew what he meant. A return to Solace in

the autumn would mean his quest to find his father and his heritage had failed.

"Then we will meet every year after, on the first night of Harvest Home in the fall, those of us who are here," Tanis

suggested. "And let us take a vow that five years from now we will return here to the inn, no matter where we are or

what we are doing."

"Those of us who are still alive," Raistlin said.

He had intended his words as a joke, but Caramon sat up straight, the shock of his brother's words penetrating

his alcohol-induced befuddlement. He cast his twin a frightened glance, a glance that Raistlin deflected with

narrowed eyes.

"It was only a small attempt at humor, my brother."

"Still, you shouldn't say things like that, Raist," Caramon entreated. "It's bad luck."

"Drink your ale and keep silent," Raistlin returned irritably. Sturm's stern expression had eased. "That is a good

idea.

Five years. I pledge myself to return in five years."

"I'll be back, Tanis!" Tas said, hopping about in excitement.

"I'll be here in five years." "You'll likely be in some jail in five years," Flint muttered.

"Well, if I am, you'll bail me out, won't you, Flint?"

The dwarf swore it would be a cold day in the Abyss before he bailed the kender out of jail one more time.

"Are there cold days in the Abyss?" Tasslehoff wondered. "Are there any sort of days at all in the Abyss, or is it

mostly dark and spooky like a giant hole in the ground, or is it filled with blazing fire? Don't you think the Abyss

would be a great place to visit, Raistlin? I'd really like to go there someday. I'll bet not even Uncle Trapspringer has-"

Tanis called for silence, just in time to prevent Flint from up-

ending his ale mug over the kender's head. Tanis placed his hand, palm down, in the center of the table.

"I vow on the love and friendship I feel for all of you"-his gaze touched each of his friends, gathered them

together-"that I will return to the Inn of the Last Home on the first night of Harvest Home five years hence."

"I will be back in five years," said Kit, resting her hand over Tanis's. Her expression had softened. Her grip on

him tightened. "If not sooner. Much sooner."

"I vow on my honor as the knight I hope to become that I will return in five years," Sturm Brightblade said

solemnly. He placed his hand over Tanis's and Kit's.

"I'll be here," said Caramon. His large hand engulfed the other hands of his friends.

"And I," said Raistlin. He touched the back of his brother's hand with his fingertips.

"Don't forget me! I'll be here!" Tasslehoff crawled on top of the table to add his small hand to the pile.

"Well, Flint?" Tanis said, smiling at his old friend.

"Confound it, I may have more important things to do than come back to this place just to see your pasty

faces," Flint grumbled.

He took hold of the hands of all his friends in his own gnarled and work-hardened hands. "Reorx walk with

you until we meet again!" he said, then turned his head, stared very hard out the window at nothing.

The inn's door had long ago been locked for the night. A yawning barmaid was on hand to let them out.