The other elf had also rushed forward to help his cronies. As he reached the almost comical struggle that was going on between Piggott and Mita, the innkeep spun around. The Kagonesti lunged forward and stabbed poor Mita in the side. The boy cried out, lost his grip, and slumped to the ground.

Kitiara saw all this only out of the corner of her eye, for she had troubles of her own. The Kagonesti worrying her had proved resourceful. He had managed to back her against a tree, but had also managed to stay out of the way of her increasingly wild slashes. Now she had nowhere to retreat, and he was closing in.

Running to his side came the other Kagonesti, shouting in their incomprehensible language.

Piggott was just standing up and catching his breath, when from underneath him thrust his own knife, hard and fierce, deep into the underside of his fat belly. The awful man screamed out in agony. As Piggott gaped downward, his best kitchen knife slit the front of his stomach, up to his chest bone. Gripping its hilt was Paulus.

The first Kagonesti made the mistake of looking over his shoulder at what was happening, and before he knew it, Kitiara had lunged forward and stabbed him, deeply and with finality, through the heart.

Now Paulus came running over, carrying a big rock from the campfire in one of his bare hands, the knife in the other. The look on his face was fearsome.

The second Kagonesti had stopped, angled around, and now was holding both the dwarf and the young woman off, pointing his sword in front of him. He was clearly panicked.

Slowly Kitiara and Paulus closed in. With a surprising movement, the elf darted toward them, his sword threatening. When they took a necessary step back, he whirled and vanished into the bushes so quickly that they could barely react.

Kit and Paulus stood there for long seconds, looking after him, hearing and seeing nothing. At last, the dwarf dropped his weapons.

After stripping their corpses of valuables, Kitiara and Paulus left Piggott and the Kagonesti to the forest predators, but they buried Mita as best they could, under a shallow mound of branches and leaves.

"He was foolish," said Paulus, standing over the grave, his voice trembling with emotion.

"No, he was brave," said Kitiara.

They rode south for two more days, taking Mita's horse and all of his belongings with them. On a high ridge, where the mountains cleaved and two roads went off in opposite directions, they decided to separate. Kit had urged Paulus to take all of Mita's things, but he wouldn't hear of it. She herself had no appetite for the leavings of her friend's life, so on the ridgetop they removed everything from the boy's palomino, then let the horse go free.

The ridge overlooked a deep narrow valley, and one by one Paulus threw all of the carefully packed bags and bundles as far as he could, out over the steep sides into the canyon. They could not hear them hit bottom.

"Seems a waste," said Kit.

"His life was a waste," answered Paulus, looking off.

"Where are you heading?" asked Kit as she got back on Cinnamon and prepared to leave.

"I dunno," said Paulus, getting on his horse. "Somewhere different, I know that."

"Will you do me a favor?" asked Kit solemnly. "Don't tell anyone about, er, all this… but especially, my sword." She reached down and patted the valuable weapon. The wrapped blade was looped to the saddle she had taken from Piggott's horse.

"I won't," said Paulus, his eyes meeting hers. "And I won't ask why."

"Luck," she said.

"Luck!"

Paulus was the first to turn away, his demeanor as nonchalant as when they had first met. Kit sat there, astride Cinnamon, and watched the handsome, ponytailed dwarf as he disappeared down the smaller trail that led toward the main road west. After a time, she galloped off in the direction of Solace.

After several more days, Kitiara reached Solace. It was late summer, and the branches of the majestic vallenwoods made an emerald canopy overhead. The familiar smells spurred Cinnamon into a trot. The horse didn't need any help finding the way back to her old stall in the shed beneath the Majere cottage. Kit fed and watered the mare, then, mindful of Ursa's warning, took Beck's sword and buried it under an unassuming pile of hay. Later, she would sneak the weapon up to her room.

With mixed feelings she climbed the spiral stairs to home.

It was almost meal time. Kit knew that her whole family would probably be home. Just as she was about to enter, the door swung open. Caramon threw himself on her, squealing with excitement.

"You're really back! Raist was right! He said you'd be standing there if I opened the door. I bet him a bag of rock candy that you wouldn't be, but I'm happy to pay up."

Caramon grabbed Kit's hand and pulled her into the center of the room. Rosamun's door was almost entirely closed, and Gilon was absent. Though the late afternoon was warm, Raistlin was sitting in a chair pulled up close to the hearth. A book lay open in his lap. Curiosity, admiration, resentment, and a little petulance mingled in the look he gave Kit.

"I didn't expect to see you back so soon. Was your journey a worthwhile one?" Raist asked her gravely.

Kit grinned. Same old Raist. "Let's say it took some unexpected turns. Judge for yourself how worthwhile."

Caramon, sensing the imminent handing out of presents, began hopping up and down at Kit's side. "Oh, she brought us something. It better be good; you've been gone all summer."

With a flourish, Kit pulled two small packages out of her bag. Despite his desire to appear cool and collected, Raist hopped off his chair and ran up to Kit. She gave the first package to Caramon. He tore off the crude wrapping and exclaimed loudly over the sturdy short sword she had brought him.

"It must have been so expensive!" crowed Caramon, turning it around in his hand admiringly.

In truth, Kit had taken the sword off the dead Kagonesti, but there was no reason for Caramon to be told that. "Watch you don't cut yourself," she admonished.

Raist unwrapped his smaller package more slowly, but seemed equally pleased with his set of leather vials.

"Now, those were expensive," Kit said, winking at Raist. The dead Kagonesti had contributed those, too.

As each boy was examining his souvenir, Gilon walked in the door carrying herbs and other foodstuffs, appearing harried. He looked at Kit in surprise, then followed that reaction quickly with a grin of genuine warmth. Having his arms full, he was able to avoid the awkwardness that typically passed between them over whether or not to embrace.

"Well, the adventurer returns! You must have grown two inches in the last couple months. Welcome back, Kit."

Indeed, she had grown up over the time, physically and otherwise. Gilon could see that Kit carried herself with, not just adolescent swagger, but true assurance. And while someone who looked at her fleetingly might still mistake her for a boy, anyone whom she engaged more closely with her crooked smile and laughing eyes would not.

Gilon dumped the food he was carrying onto the table. Just then, Rosamun shuffled out of their bedroom, a glaze over her eyes. Her face didn't show recognition of Kit, nor anyone else in the room. Her hair was uncombed, and she'd obviously slept in her clothes.

Kit frowned. Gilon hurried over and led her mother back to the bedroom, speaking to Rosamun in soothing tones. The twins, occupied with their new possessions and probably inured to the ghostly appearances of their mother, didn't take much notice.

Gilon strode back into the room. "I'm afraid it will be a while before we eat," he said to Kit apologetically, "and the meal won't be much. I don't have your knack in the kitchen."