Tanis stood and walked over to the chalk circle, arranging the pebbles in the center. Then he paced back the required distance before turning to face the target. His tall, slender form seemed almost to contract with concentration as he swung the black stone forward and released it with a distinctive flick of the wrist. Despite his admirable technique, the stone rolled wide of its mark, glancing off the clutch of pebbles. Tanis hastened to the circle, but none of the pebbles managed to roll beyond the perimeter.

"Aw, too bad," said Flint, bringing his thick white eyebrows together in a semblance of a frown. Amusement danced in his eyes, however, and Tanis was not deceived.

"I cede the win to you," the half-elf said with irritation, his face wearing a sour expression. "There's no point in continuing with you so far ahead."

"Fine, fine," soothed Flint, walking over and picking up the stones, which he placed carefully in a wooden cup. Clearly pleased with himself over his margin of victory, the old dwarf nonetheless cast a sympathetic look at his young friend. "All this fretting over a woman!" he muttered, loud enough, he hoped, for Tanis to overhear. He took the cup and put it back in its place on one of the many neatly ordered shelves that lined his metalworking shop. "In more than one hundred years, I've never seen you carry on so. I've seen you fight and defeat ogres and brigands. I never thought you would be bested by a woman…"

He stole a glance at Tanis, searching for a reaction. But the half-elf remained lost in thought, brooding, with his arms folded across his chest as he sat on one of Flint's high stools.

Flint turned back to the half-elf gruffly. "You owe me a copper all the same," he said pointedly.

That got Tanis's attention. "But we didn't finish the game," he protested.

"All the more reason," declared Flint huffily. "You said yourself that you ceded the win. Serves you right, grumping around about a woman so much you can't even finish a game of roosterball."

Peevishly Tanis reached into his pouch, felt around with his fingers, and came up with a shiny copper piece. Flint grabbed it greedily and inspected it closely, almost suspiciously, before stuffing the coin into his pocket. His little act was almost enough to bring a grin to Tanis's face.

A knock sounded at the door.

Opening it up, Flint saw one of Solace's many ragamuffins, a freckled ten-year-old named Moya, holding out a folded note while rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Message for Flint Fireforge," said Moya importantly, although of course he knew Flint Fireforge, as did most of the citizens of Solace.

Flint took the note, but before he could open and read it, Moya snatched the paper back and said, "That'll be one copper, puh-lease."

"One copper!" Flint fumed. "That’s highway robbery."

"Going rate," declared Moya flatly, stuffing the note into his back pocket beyond Flint's reach.

"One copper!" Flint railed. "I should read it first, and if I like what it says and who it’s from, then maybe I'd pay one copper! But why should I pay a copper for something I might not even want?"

Moya stood firm. Grumbling, Flint reached back into his pouch and gave the young messenger the copper that he had just won from Tanis.

Fuming, Flint slammed the door. He turned back toward Tanis and opened the note, which he already knew from the unique way that it was folded, in crisscrossing triangles, came from Caramon's twin brother.

Tanis read over his shoulder.

Flint,

I have reason to believe that Caramon, Sturm, and Tasslehoff are in great danger. Meet me at the place by Crystalmir Lake. Bring Tanis.

Raistlin

Tanis's brow furrowed with curiosity. He wasn't sure what to make of this missive from Raistlin. With Caramon and the twins' half-sister Kitiara away, Raistlin had withdrawn from the remaining companions, becoming even more aloof than usual. Tanis knew that he rarely had been separated from his twin brother for very long, and the half-elf supposed Caramon's absence put Raistlin in a solitary and perhaps agitated mood. The robust Caramon normally cast a protective shadow over his weaker brother, but when Flint and Tanis had chanced to meet Raistlin at Otik's tavern several days ago, the situation had been reversed. It was the young mage who seemed preoccupied with the welfare of Caramon, whose return to Solace was overdue.

"Caramon said he would be back within a fortnight," Raistlin had insisted. "This isn't like him to stay away, without sending any word to me."

"It's just like Caramon," Tanis had argued, adding thoughtfully, "but it isn't like Sturm."

"I'll tell you who it's like-Tasslehoff. And Tasslehoff is in charge," stated Flint. He drained his ale, signaled Otik for another, and leaned toward the other two conspiratorially. "He just lets you think you're in charge, but wherever you decide to go, it's him that's leading you by the nose. No, it's probably all Tas's doing, and it's just like that doorknob of a kender to be gallivanting around Southern Ergoth without the slightest thought of his friends back home. I don't see the point of needless worrying. Tas always turns up, and Sturm and Caramon will turn up with him. Enjoy the temporary lull, I say."

That was about as long a speech as the customarily taciturn Flint ever made. The dwarf drank deeply of another tankard of ale, wiping the foam from his lips with his sleeve. Beaming and looking around the place, Flint didn't notice that Raistlin gave no response. The young mage had sat there, keeping them company but saying little. Indeed, as afternoon became evening and the hours wore on, Raistlin took scant appraisal of his friends. After shifting his chair, he stared beyond them, seemingly mesmerized by the pile of wood that Otik had coaxed into flames, the flickering fire reflected in Raistlin's intense hourglass eyes.

Now there was the cryptic message to meet Raistlin at Crystalmir Lake.

"What do you think?" Tanis asked Flint.

Dismay was the answer on the dwarf's craggy face. The message was unwelcome. He regretted even more the copper he had paid to receive it.

Southern Ergoth was only about a month's journey, round trip. Almost three months had passed since the day when Sturm, Caramon, and Tas had departed. "Aw," the dwarf said, waving his hand, "that Raistlin is such a worry-wart. If s probably nothing. But," he added with a sigh, "I suppose we'd better hurry on over to Crystalmir Lake."

Much as he once had with Tanis, Flint had more or less taken the Majere twins under his wing some years back when their mother died and they were still teenagers. Through the dwarf, the half-elf had grown to know and like the brothers-with reservations. Caramon was stalwart and good-natured, yet his easygoing habits sometimes led him astray. As to Raistlin, the pale young mage with the intense gaze, Tanis admitted to himself that he found it difficult to strike up any rapport with Raistlin when Caramon wasn't around.

"Come on," said Flint, putting an arm around his friend and leading him toward the door. The dwarf stopped for a moment at his worktable and used a broken bit of charcoal to scribble something on a smooth piece of bark. He winked at Tanis, hanging it on the door as they walked out. Gone hunting, the sign read.

The two friends had to proceed along the elevated walkways strung between the giant vallenwoods toward the eastern edge of town. If the people of Solace hadn't already been accustomed to seeing the pair together, the dwarf and half-elf would have attracted some stares. Flint, stocky and short, with his rolling gait, hurried to keep up with his much taller companion, who glided down the walkways with the easy grace and surefootedness of his mother's race, the Qualinesti elves.