Sometimes Nellthis would all but vanish inside his own castle. It was a rambling old structure, with several small buildings attached, including a bam and a stable. Yet there were times when Kitiara would roam the place by the hour in a futile search for Nellthis, until suddenly, turning a corner, she would burst upon him, standing there as if he had been waiting for her and grinning mockingly.

Kit knew better than to pry. She bided her time, watching and waiting. Nellthis had always been good to her. He had always extended generous hospitality whenever, without warning, she dropped in for a visit. Kit had found his home a comfortable refuge when it suited her.

A knock sounded at the door, startling Kitiara out of her reverie. She jumped up and opened it, her attitude brusque. She half-expected to be pestered by one of her rival suitors, the victor of the shoving match, his face smudged and clothing heroically torn.

Instead, a kender stood there, and in the background, watching the kender nervously, hovered one of Nellthis's servants, the beetle-browed Odilon. The kender's topknot was worn on the side of his head and dangled down to his knees; he was fair-haired, shorter and older than Tasslehoff Burrfoot. She didn't recognize him.

Beaming, the kender held out a small, rolled parchment, sealed with wax. The seal was unbroken, Kitiara was surprised to see, given the notorious curiosity of kender. So he must be one of the breed of kender message bearers, whose reliability was as unpredictable as their curiosity was famous.

Kit reached for the letter, but the kender, switching to a serious mien, withdrew his hand so that she grabbed air.

"Kitiara Uth Matar?" asked the kender importantly. "Because if you are Kitiara Uth Matar, born of Solace but late of anywhere-at the present moment, Lemish-then I bear a message of the utmost urgency."

Kitiara nodded impatiently, holding out her hand.

The kender resumed beaming and held out the scroll a second time. This time Kit was quicker and had the message in hand and pulled close before the kender could withdraw it. Undaunted, the smiling kender started to edge inside the room, but Kit stepped forward, standing in the doorway and adroitly blocking his path.

"Duty done," chirped the kender cheerfully. "My name's Aspendew, and I've traveled a couple of hundred miles just to deliver that particular message, although of course I have plenty of other things to do in this neck of the world. I've got a sister who lives just a day's hike to the east. At least I think of her as a sister, I do love her as a sister, but actually she's a cousin. And there's this notorious haunted cavern I've always wanted to visit; it's marked on one of my maps. If s a big secret place; I never tell anybody about it, but I think I might tell you, especially if you happened to let me read that letter, which has me kind of curious after bearing it all this way…"

Aspendew shuffled back and forth, looking for some opening past Kitiara. Nellthis's servant, Odilon, moved forward and grabbed the kender by the collar, hauling him backward. As he disappeared down the winding stairs, firmly in Odilon's clutches, Aspendew held up a gem on a chain, chattering.

"Oh, don't worry. You don't have to pay me anything! The young mage-at least he said he was a mage, but he was pretty young for it-paid me handsomely in coin and then threw in this rare and dazzling necklace to boot. I hope it’s magical, but with mages, you never can tell. I happened to meet a mage once who had this very peculiar sense of humor, and… Oops, gotta go! I'll be in the kitchen for a while, having a bite to eat, if you have any message you want to send back to Solace. Although I won't be going back in that direction right away-not until next year actually, but…"

Kitiara shut the door, half grinning at the necklace, which she recognized as a common and inexpensive one of her mother's that Raistlin had kept stored among his possessions as a keepsake. Raistlin possessed an odd fondness for kender, and he was one of the few people she knew who would trust one to deliver any message, much less an important one. In this instance, at least, his trust had been rewarded.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Kit opened the letter and began to read. Her half-smile quickly turned to a look of dismay. Kit reread the short message, then sat there for a long time thinking without coming to any definite plan of action.

Moonlight was silvering into the room when Kit finally rose, determined to seek out Uncle Nellthis and ask his advice.

This time she found him easily enough in his living quarters, sitting at a large desk surrounded by a pile of letters and reports. An oil lamp cast a golden glow. Though the hour was late, Nellthis seemed hard at work in one of the confounding ways he had of busying himself. Yet he looked up as if he had been expecting her and put aside his quill pen. Childless himself, Nellthis liked to look upon Kit as a daughter and never failed to greet her warmly.

Kitiara told him about receiving a letter from Raistlin delivered by the kender Aspendew. Nellthis had already heard about Aspendew, who had invited himself to stay for supper. Proving himself a good salesman, Aspendew had convinced the castle cook to write letters to his kin for delivery to various parts of Southern Ergoth. In spite of the late hour, the cook was still down in the kitchen, diligently composing his letters, which took some time and a good deal of assistance from Aspendew, since the cook was unschooled and practically illiterate.

"I suspect our kender guest will still be around for breakfast tomorrow morning," chuckled Nellthis.

He asked to see Raistlin's letter. Kit handed it over and waited as Nellthis read the communication, wrinkling his brow.

Nellthis had never met Raistlin, though Raistlin interested him indeed. He always asked Kit about him and Caramon, her half-brothers, when she visited. Nellthis didn't know any of the other companions mentioned in the letter, although he had heard bits and pieces about them, too, especially the half-elf named Tanis. His expression, in the glow of the oil lamp, showed that he was as concerned by the letter as his niece.

"Can this be so?" Nellthis asked finally, setting the letter down. 'Is it possible your brother is wrong?"

"Quite possible," Kit said grimly, "but he has an annoying habit of being right. And what he says adds up. Don't you agree?"

Nellthis nodded.

"What can I do? I was contemplating leaving here to attend to my own business. Now I suppose I will have to deal with this," Kit said with a show of annoyance that didn't entirely mask the concern she felt. A lifetime of caring for her younger brothers couldn't be shrugged off so easily. "Caramon would lay down his life for me; I know that. I must do something, but how can I go to them? If Raistlin is right, the answer lies thousands of miles from here, a protracted journey by horse, and not much faster and ten times as treacherous by water. By the time I arrived, even assuming Raistlin is right and I can hook up with them…"

She paced back and forth in front of Nellthis, boiling with frustration. Nellthis drummed his fingers on his desk. His mouth compressed into a thin line. Slowly an enlightened expression dawned on his face.

"If only there was a way," Kit repeated, pounding a fist into the palm of her hand.

"There might be a way," said Nellthis in such a cunning tone that Kit stopped and stared at him. His eyes were narrowed, his fingers had stopped drumming, and his hands were templed together.

She leaned across the desk. "How? What do you mean, Uncle?"

'There might be a way," repeated Nellthis, "but it will be difficult to arrange."