After giving the matter considerable thought, Flint was inclined to believe that Reorx, having been fed lies by the mountain dwarves, was holed up inside Thorbardin, with no knowledge that the hill dwarves were in need of his divine help.

"Trust a mountain dwarf to pretend that we don't exist. They wish we'd fall off the face of Krynn, that's what. We're a shame and an embarrassment to them," Flint concluded.

"Could you fall off the face of Krynn?" Tas asked eagerly. "How would you do it? My feet seem to be pretty firmly planted on the ground. I don't think I could drop off. What if I stood on my head?"

"If there was a true god in this world, the kender would have all dropped off it by now," Flint grumbled. "Would you look at that doorknob? Standing on his head!"

It might be more accurate to say that Tasslehoff was attempting to stand on his head. He had his head planted on the floor and was kicking his legs, trying to get his feet into the air, but not having much success. Finally he did manage to stand on his head, with the result that he almost immediately toppled over. Nothing daunted, he tried again, this time taking the precaution of placing himself next to a wall. Fortunately for the party and the rest of the customers, this endeavor absorbed the kender's attention and energies for a considerable length of time.

"If the ancient gods are still around somewhere," said Tanis, resting his hand on Kit's, urging her to be patient, to stay awhile longer, "then there should be some sign of their presence. In the old days, it was said that the clerics of the gods had the power to heal sickness and injuries, that they could even restore life to the dead. The clerics disappeared right before the Cataclysm and have not been seen since, at least that the elves have heard."

"Clerics of Reorx live," Flint maintained, his tone bitter. "I'm convinced of it. They're inside Thorbardin. All sorts of miracles are performed in the halls of our ancestors, halls where by rights we hill dwarves should be now!" He thumped the table with his fist.

"Come, old friend," Tanis admonished mildly. "You remember that time we met the mountain dwarf at the fair in Haven last fall. He claimed that it was the hill dwarves who had clerical powers and refused to share them with their cousins in the mountain."

"Of course he would say that!" Flint bellowed. "To ease his guilty conscience!"

"Tell us a story about Reorx," suggested Caramon, the peacemaker, but the dwarf was angry and wouldn't talk.

"Some of these followers of the new gods claim to have that power," Tanis stated, giving Flint time to cool off. "The clerics of Belzor, for one. The last time I was in Haven, they made a big show of it. Caused cripples to get up and walk and dumb people to speak. What do you say, Kit?"

He'd caught her in a prodigious yawn, which she didn't bother to hide. Raking back her curly hair, she laughed carelessly. "Who wants or needs any gods at all? I certainly don't. No divine force controls my life, and that's the way I like it. I choose my own destiny. 1 am slave to no man. Why should I be a slave to a god and let some priest or cleric tell me how to live?"

Tanis applauded her when she finished and saluted her with a raised glass. Flint was frowning and thoughtful. When his glance fell on Tanis, the frown deepened into concern. Sturm stared raptly into the fire, his dark eyes unusually bright, as if he saw Paladine's knights once more riding into battle in the name of their god. Caramon had long since dozed off. He lay with his head on the table, his hand still wrapped around his ale mug, softly snoring. Tasslehoff, to the wonder and amazement of all, had managed to stand on his head and was shrilly demanding that everyone look at him- quickly, before he fell off the face of Krynn.

"We've stayed long enough," Kit whispered to Tanis. "I can think of lots more interesting things to do than hang around here." Taking hold of his hand, she brought it to her lips, kissed his knuckles.

Tanis's heart was in his eyes, as the saying goes. His love and longing for her was apparent to everyone watching him. Everyone except Kit, who was now playfully nibbling on the knuckles she had previously been kissing.

"I'm going to have to leave Solace soon, Kit," he said to her softly. "Flint will be taking to the road any day now."

Kitiara rose to her feet. "All the more reason not to waste what time we have left. Good-bye, little brothers," she said, not looking at them. "Happy Day of Life Gift."

"Yes, best wishes," Tanis said, turning to Raistlin with a warm smile. He patted the snoring Caramon on the shoulder.

Kitiara put her arm around the half-elf's waist, leaned into him. He placed his arm affectionately on her shoulder. Walking side by side, so closely that they almost tripped over each other's feet, the two left the inn.

Flint sighed and shook his head. "More ale," he called gruffly.

"Did you see me, Flint? Did you see me?" Tasslehoff, his face bright red, skipped back to the table. "I stood on my head! And I didn't fall off the face of Krynn. My head stuck to the floor just like my feet do. I guess you'd have to not have any part of you touching. Do you suppose if I jumped off the roof of the inn?…"

"Yes, yes, go ahead," Flint muttered, preoccupied. The kender dashed away.

"I'll go stop him," Sturm offered and left in hasty pursuit. Raistlin poked his brother, prodded him awake.

"Uh? What?" Caramon grunted, sitting up and peering around, bleary-eyed. He'd been dreaming of Miranda.

Raistlin raised his half-empty wineglass. "A toast, my brother. To love." "To love," Caramon mumbled, sloshing ale on the table.

As it turned out, Tanis and Flint did not leave Solace that summer.

Caramon had already departed for work in the early morning dawn and Raistlin was putting his books together, preparatory to going to his school, when there was a knock on the door. Simultaneous with the knock, the door flew open and Tasslehoff Burrfoot jumped in.

Flint had been trying to teach the kender that a knock on the door was generally conceded among civilized peoples as an announcement of one's presence and a request to be admitted. One waited patiently at the door until the knock was answered and the door was opened by the person residing in the household.

Tasslehoff simply could not grasp the concept. Knocking on doors was not much practiced in the kender homelands. It wasn't necessary. Kender doors usually stood wide open. The only reason to shut them was during inclement weather.

If a visiting kender walked in on his hosts and found that they were engaged in some pursuit in which he was not particularly welcome, the visitor could either sit in the parlor and wait until his hosts showed themselves or he was free to leave-after ransacking the dwelling for anything interesting, of course.

Some uninformed people on Ansalon maintained that this custom was followed because kender had no locks on their doors. This was not true. All doors to kender dwellings had locks, generally a great many locks of differing types. The locks were only used when a party was in progress. There was no door knocking at these times. The guests were expected to pick the locks to obtain entry, this being the major form of entertainment for the evening.

Thus far, Flint had trained Tasslehoff to at least knock on the door, which he did, generally knocking on the door as he opened it, or else opening it and then knocking on it, as a way to loudly announce his presence in case no one noticed him.

Raistlin was prepared for Tasslehoffs arrival, having heard the kender shouting his name breathlessly six doors down and having heard the neighbors shout back to ask if he knew what time of the morning it was. He also heard Tas stop to inform them of the correct time.