Tanis was faster.

He practically vaulted the last ten yards and scooped the man into his arms. The leading edge of the grass fire nipped at the edge of Tanis's leather tunic as he moved as fast as he could away from the flames. He was running downhill with the powerful hot wind at his back, so despite the weight in his arms, Tanis was able to stay ahead of the fast-moving fire, but not by much. Soon the swirling smoke enveloped him. Breathing heavily, his eyes burning, Tanis lost sight of the woods. He stopped, confused, the man a dead weight in his arms.

"Where… 7" the half-elf stammered. He didn't know which way to run. The sound of the fire seemed to surround him, and there was no hope of catching a glimpse of Clotnik, elvensight or no elvensight. He wondered, for the first time, what it would feel like to burn to death.

Just then a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "This way!" said a choked voice only barely recognizable as Clotnik's. "You got turned around. The trees are over here. Hurry!"

Relief showered over Tanis like a spring rain. Once again the juggler had surprised him. The half-elf followed Clotnik's lead, and a few seconds later they emerged from the cloud of smoke into the temporary shelter of the trees. The fire leaped bare yards behind them.

They ran toward the lake as the tree line at the edge of the meadow exploded into flames. Tongues of fire shot up along the bark and ignited the limbs above. The heat was so intense that leaves began to bum even before the flames had reached them.

"Is he alive?" Clotnik asked worriedly as they began wading into the lake.

Tanis looked down and saw that he held an old man, his iron-gray hair streaked with ash and his thin face seamed with age. "I think he's still breathing," said the half-elf, "but he's badly burned." As if to give credence to Tanis's words, the old man's skin sizzled and smoked as it came in contact with the cold water of the lake.

When the water became too deep for wading, Clotnik and Tanis, with the old man in tow, swam toward the log, about twelve yards away. The grass, bushes, and trees all around the lake burned orange, red, and blue, with flaming branches raining down around Tanis and Clotnik as if there'd been a cloudburst of fire.

Then, finally, Tanis asked the question that burned as hotly in his heart as the flames that Surrounded them: "Is he the one who knew my father?"

The juggler nodded.

Tanis clenched his teeth until his jaws ached. He wanted to scream, to slash at fate with his sword so that it could never tease him so cruelly again. Somehow, he kept his silence.

As the night wore on, Tanis and Clotnik clung to the log, taking turns keeping the old man's head above the water. They had no sticks to push away burning debris, so they had to use their feet to shove away anything dangerous that came crashing down near them. More worrisome, though, were the hot cinders that filled the air above the lake, hissing as they splattered into the water. Any one of the cinders could burn out an eye or disfigure a face. They had to be on constant guard, not only for themselves, but for the old man. More than once, they had to pull him under the water to keep him from getting burned. He coughed and choked, letting them know that he was still among the living, although just barely.

And the fire raged on.

The Bargain

It was nearly morning when the fire finally burned itself out. The wood was a smoking relic, and ash swirled above the lake on desultory breezes. Clotnik lay half in and half out of the water, one leg wrapped around the stub of a branch sticking out of the log on which he was sprawled. The other leg, as well as one arm, dangled in the cold water. Tanis, who had just awakened from a short and troubled sleep, gazed at the juggler with sympathy. Clotnik looked like an abandoned child who had run out of everything, including hope. But Clotnik would be fine with a little rest. The half-elf's gaze passed to the thin, old man, propped in the crevice between the partially submerged tree trunk and one of its sturdy limbs. Tanis watched, frozen, until the man's chest rose again. He still lived, then. At least the cold water soothed the old man's badly burned skin; it was a small blessing.

Tanis pushed away the dirty surface water with a few flicks of his hand and then splashed his face. Although stiff from being in the water all night, the half-elf began to kick his legs and stroke with one arm, slowly maneuvering the log toward the shore.

He had nearly reached an open batch of land when a hoarse voice croaked, "You."

The half-elf immediately glanced at Clotnik, thinking the juggler had revived. But the dwarf snored on.

"Here," said the voice. "It's me."

Tanis adjusted his gaze to the crook of the tree limb and was surprised to see that the old man's blue eyes were open. He stopped swimming.

"Keep going," ordered the ancient one. "Get me out of this water before I shrivel up."

"You're badly burned, old one," Tanis said softly. 'The pain is going to be very bad when I lay you down on the ground."

"What do you know of pain?" the old man asked sarcastically. "Just do as I say."

Clotnik finally stirred. He lifted his arm to stretch and promptly slid off the log and into the water. Hailing for a handhold on the tree trunk, the juggler splashed and screamed for help, not realizing that he was a mere dozen yards from land.

Gliding easily through the ash covered water, Tanis grabbed Clotnik around the neck and pulled his head high above the surface of the lake. Dirty water streamed from the dwarf's brown beard. "Easy," Tanis said firmly. "You're okay. Take hold of the log," he said, gesturing with his head. "We're almost on dry ground."

"Good!" gasped Clotnik, grasping the log.

While Tanis pushed the log closer to the shoreline. Clotnik glanced over at the old one, who was smiling- or maybe grimacing. The ancient's face was badly burned. And despite the best efforts of Tanis and Clotnik, cinders had burned away portions of the old man's iron-gray hair.

"I didn't think you'd live till morning," Clotnik said solemnly.

The man's voice carried the hoarseness of pain and exhaustion. "I had no choice."

Tanis dug up their meager belongings, then took a blanket from his pack and dunked it into the lake, spreading it out on a flat piece of ground.

"Help me," Tanis said to Clotnik, indicating the old man.

Clotnik swallowed and came to stand knee-deep in the water on the other side of the ancient.

"Gently now," said Tanis.

As they lifted the old one, the stench of his dying flesh assailed them. Clotnik made a point of not looking at the poor man-at least not until they put him down. That's when the juggler saw that his own hands and arms were covered with burnt loose skin and congealed blood- and it was not his own. His stomach revolting, he shot a look at the ancient. "By Reorx!" said Clotnik. He quickly turned away from the sight, staggered a few steps away, and vomited into the lake.

"It seems I'm rather overcooked," the old one said.

"You accept your fate with surprising calm," said Tanis respectfully.

"It was my own fault," the man rejoined, blue eyes filming over with tears, doubtless from the pain of his burns.

Tanis frowned. "You can't blame yourself for not outrunning a grass fire," he said gently.

"I don't." The blue eyes cleared again and studied the half-elf. "I blame myself for starting it."

Tanis raised his eyebrows. "Why did you set it?"

"Sligs were after me," the old one explained. "Quite a lot of them, in fact. I thought the fire would stop them or kill them."