Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [83]
“It’s more important now than ever. I simply must see the writings, the records of Kelryn Darewind. How did the archmage become a god? Where does he reside? And are there other facets to his faith, sects in different parts of Krynn? These questions must be answered.”
The historian drew a deep breath, continuing firmly. “There are very few things about Fistandantilus that have escaped the light of the historian’s torch. But the details of his passing, at the time of Skullcap’s creation and beyond, have always called for further investigation. And now it seems there was real import there, occurrences that we never suspected!”
“And you’re going to study those things but remain aloof, uninvolved?”
Dan asked, remembering the historian’s concern over his intervention that had kept the lad alive.
“Er… yes, of course. That is, I have to be. Tsk.” Foryth shook his head, flustered. “My efforts would be doomed to failure if I should let myself become attached to individuals or, worse yet, attempt to play a role myself.”
“But how does all this study and research help you learn a spell?”
Mirabeth voiced the same question that Danyal had been wondering about.
“My father said- that is, I heard somewhere that priests pray for their spells, get them from their god.” She halted, flustered, though only Danyal seemed to notice the kendermaid’s distress.
“Well, I guess it doesn’t, to tell the absolute truth,” Foryth admitted with slumping shoulders. But then he raised his head, and his narrow chin jutted forward in an approximation of determination. “But I don’t know where to find a spell, so I thought it made sense to do something useful while I was looking.”
“You can’t argue with that,” Emilo agreed with an amiable chuckle.
Despite his willingness to do just that, Danyal was forced to concede that the kender was right-Foryth’s decision made as much sense as anything else. “Good luck, then,” said the lad. “I hope you find that magic.”
“You know, in a way I envy you kender,” Foryth said, leaning his head against the cave wall and shifting his eyes from Mirabeth to Emilo. “Your folk are, in many ways, the favorites of Gilean. True neutrals, that’s the kender. Nary a care in the world as you go wherever your mood and your interests take you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Emilo said seriously. He chewed thoughtfully on the tail of his topknot. “Of course, right now I don’t known much about anything. But it seems to me that we have cares just like humans. And that business about being truly neutral… I’d like to think we know the difference between good and evil.
“And that we practice a little more of the former,” the kender added with a soft laugh. He lapsed into silence, and for a time, the four companions just rested. They shared cool water from Mirabeth’s canteen, and finally Danyal decided he would bring up some of the things that had been bothering him.
“About these… seizures,” he said to Emilo. “Have you had them all your life?”
“Well, yes, I think so. Actually,” the kender admitted, chewing on his topknot, “I’m not sure. You see, I don’t remember my childhood or my early life. So I’ve had these attacks ever since I can recall.”
“What’s the first thing you remember? Where were you, and how long ago was it?”
“Well, those are good questions. I remember that I was in Dergoth, on the plains around Skullcap. I met some elves there, and they fed me and gave me water. From what they told me, I was about ready to die there in the desert.”
“When did that happen?” Foryth asked, warming to the questions with the interest of the true historian. “Did they tell you the year?”
“As a matter of fact, they did. It was two hundred and fifty something, as I recall.”
“That’s more than a hundred years ago,” Danyal said with a whistle. “I didn’t think kender lived to be that old-not that you look old, that is. But that’s part of it, isn’t it? You don’t look that old.”
“More than a hundred years?” Emilo looked puzzled. “I could have