pouches and bags. He pulled out a map. "I do love maps, don't you? Would you mind holding that corner?

There's Tarsis by the Sea. I've never been there, but I hope to go someday, when Flint doesn't need my help so

much, which he does dreadfully right now. You wouldn't believe the trouble he gets into if I'm not there to

keep an eye on things. Yes, that's Solamnia. They have awfully fine jails there...."

The two continued walking, the tall Sturm bent to study the map, Tasslehoff pointing out various places of

interest.

"Sturm's taken leave of his senses," said Caramon. "That kender's probably never been anywhere near

Solamnia. They all lie like ... well, like kender. And now you've got us eating supper with one of them and a

dwarf! It's ... it's not proper. We should stick to our own kind. Father says-"

"Not anymore he doesn't," Raistlin interrupted.

Caramon paled and lapsed into an unhappy silence. Raistlin laid his hand on his brother's arm in silent

apology.

"We cannot stay cooped up forever in our home, wrapped in a

"Except in Istar," Tanis Half-Elven would tease.

"Not even stone houses can be expected to survive having a great bloody mountain dropped down on top of them,"

Flint would return, always adding, "Besides, I have no doubt that way down in the Blood Sea, where all know the city

of Istar was cast, certain lucky fish are living quite comfortably."

On this particular day, Flint was inside his stone house attempting to make some sense of the disorder in which

he lived. Disorder was a constant state of affairs ever since the kender had moved in.

The two unlikely roommates had met on market day. Flint was showing his wares, and Tasslehoff, passing

through town on his way to anywhere interesting, had stopped at the dwarf's stall to admire a very fine bracelet.

What happened next is subject to who tells the story. According to Tas, he picked up the bracelet to try it on,

discovered it fit perfectly, and was going off in search of someone to ask the price.

According to Flint, he came out of the back of the booth, after a refreshing nip of ale, to find Tasslehoff and the

bracelet both disappearing rapidly into the crowd. Flint nabbed the kender, who loudly and shrilly proclaimed his

innocence. People stopped to watch. Not to buy. Just to watch.

Tanis Half-Elven, arriving on the scene, broke up the altercation, dispersed the crowd. Reminding the dwarf in low

tones that such scenes were bad for business, Tanis persuaded Flint that he didn't really want to see the kender

hung from the nearest vallenwood by his thumbs. Tasslehoff magnanimously accepted the dwarf's apology, which

Flint couldn't recall ever having made.

That evening, the kender had showed up on Flint's doorstep, along with a jug of excellent brandy, which

Tasslehoff claimed to have purchased at the Inn of the Last Home and which he had brought the dwarf by way of a

peace offering. The next afternoon, Flint had awakened with a hammer-pounding headache to find the kender firmly

ensconced in the guest bedroom.

Nothing Flint did or said could induce Tasslehoff to leave.

"I've heard tell that kender are afflicted with-what do they call it?-wanderlust. That's it. Wanderlust. I suppose

you'll be coming down with that soon," the dwarf had hinted.

"Nope. Not me." Tas had been emphatic. "I've gone through that already. Outgrown it, you might say. I'm ready to

settle down. Isn't that lucky? You really do need someone to look after

bed. What kind of doorknob would put a tea kettle under theOh, you did? Well, isn't that odd. I wonder how it

got there. Perhaps it's magic! A magic tea kettle.

"Speaking of magic, Flint, these are some new friends of mine. Mindyourhead, Caramon. You're much too

tall for our door. This is Raistlin and his brother Caramon. They're twins, Flint, isn't that interesting? They look

sort of alike, especially if you turn them sideways. Turn sideways, Caramon, and you, too, Raistlin, so that Flint

can see. And that's my new friend Sturm Brightblade. He's a knight of Solamnia! They're staying to dinner, Flint.

I hope we've got enough to eat."

Tas concluded at this point, swelling with pride and the two lungfuls of air required for such a long speech.

Flint eyed the size of Caramon and hoped they had enough to eat as well. The dwarf was in a bit of a

quandary. The moment they stepped across his threshold, the young men were guests in his house, and by

dwarven custom that meant they were to be treated with the same hospitality he would have given the thanes of