Heroes And Fools

Much Ado About Magic
Kevin James Kage

“Hello!” shouted the kender.

Laudus started. His hand flew to the side, tipping an inkwell and soaking a manuscript with rich black ink. Rising from his seat, the old man thundered across the study and thrust his head out the window.

Fifty feet below him, the little man stood at the gates of the tower, peering about and shouting “Hello!” every few moments.

“Be quiet!” the archmage said.

“Hello!” the kender said as he spotted the man. He waved his arms in greeting. “I say! Could you open the door, please? It seems to be stuck!”

“Absolutely not! Leave at once!”

“I can’t leave! I have some very important information to relate!”

“Absolutely out of the question! Go away!”

“But it’s very important!”

Mustering his patience, the archmage said, “Well, what is it?”

The kender looked taken aback. “I couldn’t tell you! You might be a spy!”

The old man scowled and threw the now-empty inkwell. It struck the ground to the right of the kender, bounced a foot more, and landed with a dusty thud. The kender looked astonished beyond measure.

“Thank you!” he said cheerfully. “But all I really need is the door opened!”

Laudus looked about for something else to throw, but he found nothing disposable. He opted for the next-best solution.

“Cedwick!”

Moments later, a lanky young man stumbled into the room. Though merely an apprentice, he stood a full head taller than Laudus and possessed a good deal more hair. “Almost done, Master,” he said. “Your fine robes have been packed as you requested, and I’ve taken the liberty of packing-”

“Enough, enough,” Laudus said. “I’ll finish the packing. There’s something else I want you to do. There’s a kender outside.”

“Akender?Why?”

“How should I know? Go deal with him!”

“Maybe he wants to give you information for the Conclave meeting.”

“Foolish boy! The Conclave doesn’t inform outsiders of its meetings. Least of all, kender.” He waved a bony finger at his apprentice. “Don’t you fill the kender’s head with any ideas. If you so much as mention the Tower of High Sorcery, we’ll never be rid of him!”

“Of course, sir,” Cedwick bowed. “What if he has some important information, though?”

“No kender in the history of Krynn has ever had important information.” After a moment, Laudus added, “Unless, of course, he stole it.”

From beyond the window, the kender began to sing a bawdy drinking song in an off-key tenor voice.

“Go get rid of him!”

“Yes, Master!”

Quite suddenly the kender changed keys, becoming considerably more shrill and, amazingly enough, more off-key. The old man felt a headache coming on.

“I’ve come to speak to Master Laudus about the Conclave meeting,” the kender said brightly.

A little voice inside Cedwick’s head told him he had heard incorrectly. The kender couldn’t have said, “I’ve come to speak to Master Laudus about the Conclave meeting.”

“Excuse me?” the young man asked.

“I’ve come to speak to Master Laudus about the Conclave meeting,” the kender repeated.

Cedwick stood there dumbly. It still sounded like “the Conclave meeting.”

“You’ve come to speak to Master Laudus about the Conclave meeting?”

“Yes!”

“No, you haven’t.”

The kender nodded. “I have! I heard the Conclave was holding a very important meeting about the disappearance of magic, and I have information on the subject.”

“Well, then, why are you here at my master’s tower? Why didn’t you go to the Tower of High Sorcery?”

Cedwick suddenly remembered he wasn’t supposed to mention the Tower of High Sorcery. This could mean trouble.

The kender, however, seemed unsurprised.

“Because!” he said. “Everyone knows the great Master Laudus is attending the Conclave meeting, and I thought he could best relay my information, being a higher wizard than me.”

“You are a wizard?” the apprentice asked.

In truth, the kender did look like a wizard-or perhaps a satire of one. He wore a voluminous gray robe. Silvery symbols covered every available inch of the cloth. Clutched in one hand, the little man held an intricately carved staff. From its look, it had probably been a hoopak at some stage of its life, but the sling had been replaced by a beautiful shard of blue crystal. The kender’s other hand could not be seen, for it lay buried beneath a mass of rings, bracelets, and assorted bangles. No less numerous were the necklaces and pendants about the kender’s neck. Earrings dangled from his pointed ears. The apprentice wondered how this fellow managed to stand with the weight of that jewelry.

“Well, I’m not exactly a wizard,” the kender admitted.

“Not exactly?”

“I’m more of a wizard slayer.”

“A wizard slayer?”

“Why do you repeat everything I say?”

“Why do I-” Cedwick began before thinking better of it. He stared at the kender incredulously. “What do you mean you are a wizard slayer?”

“That’s my name! Halivar Wizardslayer. What’s your name?”

“Cedwick,” the apprentice mage said hastily. “So you don’t actually kill wizards?”

“Of course I do! I wouldn’t be deserving of my name if I didn’t, now would I?”

“Have you killed many of them?”

“Every one I have ever met,” said Halivar. “That makes-” he glanced at the sky, thinking noisily, “Eight- well, seven. The eighth was an alchemist, not a wizard, but he had a magic ring and-

“Why do you kill wizards?”

“Oh, it’s not that I mean to kill them or anything! I really have nothing against them at all! It’s just that when I come into contact with a wizard, sooner or later, he dies.”

“Are you telling me I’m about to die?”

“No, no! You’re standing in the protective circle. You’re completely safe.”

Cedwick looked down. To his surprise, he found himself standing in a crudely drawn circle in the dirt.

“You did this?” he asked the kender.

“Before you arrived,” Halivar said, nodding. “Just coincidental that you stood in it. Lucky for you!”

“Now, look,” Cedwick said, stepping forward.

“No, please! Don’t leave the circle! It would be just awful if I killed you!”

The young man shook his head. “I don’t believe you have a curse.”

“Oh, yes, I do! I’m sure of it. That’s why I’ve been studying magic! I want to end the curse.”

Cedwick glanced at the kender sharply, “You say you’ve been studying magic? How?”

“I have these books!” the kender said, smiling. From beneath the folds of his robes he drew forth a set of four mismatched tomes tied together with a length of cord.

Cedwick’s eyes grew wide. “Please let me see those!”

Halivar thought for a moment before he said, “Okay, but don’t step outside the confines of the protective circle!” The kender set the books down along the edge of the circle and stepped back a dozen feet.

Cedwick knelt and carefully picked up the books. Even without a close inspection he could tell they were genuine spell books. Furthermore, they appeared to be spell books of four different mages. The spines of all but one book bore sigils of protection. He guessed that a little of their original magic remained, just as certain artifacts within Master Laudus’s tower held some of their powers.

“Where did you get these?”

“I found them!”

“Found them?”

“Well,” Halivar said, “it seemed to me that the wizards would not be needing them anymore, being dead and all. So I thought I could use them to help understand what was happening.”

Cedwick rose to his feet. “You understand that studying magic without the approval of the High Council is a serious offense?”

“Is it really?” the kender said inquisitively. “I’ve never committed a serious offense before. Not on purpose at least!” His eyes hardened, his brow furrowed, and he stood straight and resolute. “What is the penalty for such a crime?”

The young man couldn’t help but chuckle at the kender’s sudden resolve. “This is your punishment. You must go home. Leave these books and any other items you have acquired from mages here with me, and don’t try to learn magic again.”

Halivar hesitated. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have very important information for the Conclave! I must deliver it to Master Laudus.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot. Well, you’re in luck! I am in charge of deciding who will see Master Laudus.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Cedwick lied. “Why do you think he sent me out to greet you?”

“Well, may I see the him now?”

“Not yet. First, I must hear your story.”

“Oh, of course.” The kender bowed, but he stood there a long moment without saying anything.

“Go on! Speak up!”

The kender looked as if he were having a difficult time of it. Finally he looked levelly at Cedwick and stood straight as an arrow, as if he were a man facing his death without fear.

“Master Cedwick, I have destroyed magic. .”

“. . And so as I was picking up the broken bits of mandolin and offering an apology to the minstrel, the alchemist’s carriage collided with the vendor’s cart, and the sausage flew into the magic circle,” Halivar finished.

“So the sausage disrupted the spell?” Cedwick yawned.

“No, the sausage attracted the stray dogs.”

“So the dogs disrupted the spell?”

“No, no, no! It was the crate of apples the dwarf was carrying! Haven’t you been listening?”

Cedwick thought he had been listening. Of course, he thought he’d been listening the first two times the kender told the story as well.

“So if I were to sum the story up into a single sentence,” he said, “I might say that due to a string of accidental mishaps-

“That were by no means my fault!” the kender added hastily.

“That were by no means your fault, the spell you tried to cast was altered in such a way as to destroy magic.”

“Just so!” the kender beamed.

Cedwick gave a longing glance toward the tower and wished he were packing again.

“You do realize that the rest of the world believes magic is gone because the gods have departed, don’t you?”

“Of course!” the kender said. “Uncle Tasslehoff defeated Chaos and the gods departed, and so it’s only natural for everyone to assume that’s why magic is gone!”

“I want you to understand,” Cedwick said, “because of that, the Conclave isn’t likely to believe your story.”

“No?” Halivar pouted. He looked at the apprentice mage. “You believe me, though, don’t you, Master Cedwick?”

“What I believe doesn’t matter, Halivar. Master Laudus and the Conclave must believe.”

“Oh! I’ll go explain it Master Laudus then!”

“No!” Cedwick said quickly. “If you approach him with this story, he is likely to find the idea preposterous. In the end, he may dismiss the idea simply because it came from-” He paused. “Well, from a kender, Halivar.”

The wizard slayer pursed his lips. “He would?”

“Just because Master Laudus is part of the Conclave,” the young man explained, “doesn’t mean he is infallible. Perhaps because of his training, he can’t believe anything less than a god could take away magic. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

“So you mean to say,” the kender’s eyes widened, “that I’m a god?”

“That’s not what I-” Cedwick began, when suddenly, the tree line exploded in a clap of thunder.

Cedwick fell to the ground, and Halivar clamped his hands over his ears. Green foliage flew in every direction, and behind it billowed a thick black cloud of smoke and debris. Something struck the tower behind Cedwkk with a deafening thud.

Cedwick spun his head around to glance at the tower, expecting part of the wall to be missing. To his astonishment, it appeared entirely undamaged. However, a large lump of metal sat smoldering on the ground where it had landed after deflecting off the wall.

“Good thing there’s some magic left in the walls,” Cedwick thought aloud, but he realized he couldn’t hear his own voice because the warning siren was wailing too loudly.

Warning siren?

Cedwick turned back toward the source of the explosion. A long, cylindrical metal snout emerged from the cloud of smoke. It rode forward unsteadily on a pair of mismatched wheels. Behind it appeared a horde of tiny sputtering men and women. They coughed and gagged and seemed very relieved when they finally cleared the smoke.

Gnomes.

They pushed the cannon forward a few more feet, and then a few of the little creatures began to reload their cannon. Cedwick quickly rose to his feet and began running toward them.

“Stop!” he shouted, his arms flailing.

Much to his dismay, no one heard him. This mainly stemmed from the fact that the gnomes could not figure out how to shut off their warning siren. In fact, they looked rather perplexed that the cannon even had a warning siren.

Several gnomes worked diligently on disengaging the warning siren, while another group occupied themselves with a debate as to why there was a warning siren, and half a dozen more targeted the tower for another blast. Behind the cannon, a delegation of four gnomes busied themselves with looking important and impressive.

Not one of them, in fact, paid any heed to the advancing young man. Nor did it occur to them that someone might be standing directly in the path of their cannon.

That person happened to be Cedwick.

“Stop!” Cedwick cried again, throwing himself to the ground, shutting his eyes, and covering his ears.

A long moment passed, and Cedwick felt quite certain he was about to be the recipient of a cannon blast. Quite suddenly, the siren ended. At last, when he decided that he might be still alive, he opened his eyes.

A dozen gnomes stood around him, looking down at him expectantly. The apprentice mage stood up, brushing off his white robes and trying to look as if falling in the dirt was a normal thing to do.

The lead gnome, dressed in his finest workman’s leather, bowed deeply.

“Howdoyoudo?” the gnome said, then remembering himself, he slowed his speech. “I am Jobin, the executive vice-director of the Subcommittee of Accidents and Mishaps pertaining to the Guild of Magic Analysis and Prestidigital Improvements.”

“I am Cedwick.”

“Are you a wizard?” Jobin asked.

“Of course.”

“Cedwick!” came a bellowing voice from above.

Cedwick turned to see a graven face leaning out of the study window.

“Master!”

“What is that confounded racket? Have you gotten rid of that kender?”

“No, I’m here!” said the kender happily.

“What are these gnomes doing here? Cedwick! If I have to come down there-”

“You won’t, Master Laudus! I assure you. I’ll handle the situation.”

“See that you do!” said the archmage and ducked back into the tower.

Instantly the air filled with a fugue of gnomish chatter. With a shrill toot from a bright silver whistle, Jobin silenced the party.

“We are honored, Master Cedwick, to meet one who knows Master Laudus. We have journeyed long and far to speak with him.”

“Then why were you attacking his tower?”

The gnomes shot each other baffled glances.

“We were doing no such thing!” Jobin asserted.

“You fired a cannon at the tower!” Cedwick cried.

“Yes,” the gnome nodded. “That is our signal cannon.”

“Signal cannon?”

“Indeed! We use it to announce our arrival and to request an audience with whomever we are visiting. It is quite ingenious really! A measured amount of explosive powder is stuffed into-”

“But why fire it at the tower?” Cedwick said, “Couldn’t you have fired it into an open area?”

The gnomes pondered this idea excitedly for a moment. Several of them broke away from the group to examine and modify the cannon.

“Truly you are a wise man, Master Cedwick,” said Jobin solemnly.

“He is! He truly is!” came a voice from behind the apprentice mage. Halivar bounded forward, one hand still clamped over an ear. Apparently, his rings had become tangled with his earrings and the whole mess was proving difficult to separate.

“Who might you be?” the gnome inquired.

“I’m Halivar Wizardslayer,” the kender said, “the god!”

Cedwick interjected, addressing Jobin politely. “May I ask what business you have here?”

“Certainly! As I said, we are here to see Master Laudus!”

“Regarding what?”

“We have very important information that will be relevant to the upcoming Conclave meeting.”

“Conclave meeting?”

“Yes. That’s why we are here, you see-because Master Laudus is going to the Conclave meeting.”

“If you don’t mind me asking-?” the apprentice began.

“Yes?” said the gnome.

“How is it that everyone in the world knows about the Conclave meeting?”

The gnomes looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Is it a secret?” Jobin asked.

“Yes,” replied Cedwick.

“We probably shouldn’t discuss it near the kender then.”

“It’s okay!” Halivar said. “I already know.”

“How did you find out, Halivar?” asked Cedwick.

“My Aunt Fern told me,” said the kender, “only she’s not my aunt. She’s really a second cousin once removed. Or is it a first cousin twice removed?”

“Please, Halivar. Just the explanation.”

“Anyway, she heard it from Glider Snapdragon, who got it from Miriam Redrash, who overheard a drunken wizard talking about it in jail.”

“How coincidental!” said Jobin. “We too heard of the Conclave meeting from a drunken wizard. Only he wasn’t in jail. He was sitting on a fence.”

“Really? I wonder if it was the same wizard.”

“It doesn’t matter! I understand now, thank you,” said Cedwick with irritation.

“Don’t be alarmed,” the kender whispered loudly. “He gets a little cranky.”

Cedwick turned to the kender to argue that he was not even a little cranky when a sharp wailing-similar, but distinctly different from the warning siren-erupted a few meters away. Spinning to face the new noise, the young man noticed a bulky gnomish contraption bearing down on him at a frightening pace. Just when he thought the thing would crush him and continue straight on into the tower, the loud wail sounded again, and the front of the beast suddenly belched a cloud of white steam. The lumbering thing came to a sudden stop.

Cedwick stared at the gnomish aberration. In most respects, it resembled a wooden cart. The front of it, however, supported what might have been an old iron stove. From the front of the stove jutted a large metal cylinder out of which steam was pouring. Connected to the bottom of the cylinder were two smaller cylinders. These, in turn, connected via a metal shaft to the wheels. They were called spitspins, Jobin announced proudly, presumably because they spun the wheels around, all the while spitting hot steam.

“You may not know it, Master Cedwick,” the gnome added confidentially, “but the Guild of Safely and Efficiently Getting from Point A to Point B is not the most reliable of guilds. The Veryveryhot broke down three times this morning,” he added in despair. “I honestly wouldn’t use it, but my second cousin Smidge designed it, and she’s very enthusiastic about the thing.”

As if on cue, a female gnome popped her soot-stained head out from behind one of the Spitspins, smiling and waving a well-bandaged hand. She very nearly fell off the cart. Balance restored, she went back to tinkering with the machine. There came a sound like bacon sizzling, and the little gnome gave out a yelp of pain.

Cedwick had a sudden inkling as to why they called it the Veryveryhot.

“Of course,” the gnome said, “without it, we never would have been able to bring the signal cannon, much less the God Trap.”

“Excuse me?” was all the young man could think to say.

Hah’var, however, thought of quite a lot to say.

“Really? A God Trap?” he said. “Can I see? How does it work? Will it really trap a god? I doubt if it could trap me!”

“We based it on the Graygem,” Jobin said proudly, “and we were going to use it on Chaos, except we had a slight problem with a new weapon we were testing. It delayed our arrival.” He paused, as if unsure how to go on. “I really should be explaining this to Master Laudus.”

“You’re in luck!” cried the kender as he climbed on top of the God Trap. “Master Cedwick is the man in charge of deciding who speaks to Master Laudus.”

Cedwick sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

The gnome perked up considerably. “In that case. .” he straightened his workman’s leather and cleared his throat. “Master Cedwick, it is my sad duty to inform you that the Guild of Magic Analysis and Prestidigital Improvements has accidentally trapped magic.”

Something inside the young man made a noise not unlike gears popping loose. He assumed it was his sanity becoming unhinged.

The gnome droned on. “The Subcommittee for Accidents and Mishaps has further determined that the magic of Krynn is located inside the complex and wonderful device inadequately named the God Trap Machine. We are therefore here with said machine in order to assist the wizards in the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth in removing the magic from the God Trap Machine and restoring it to Krynn proper.”

“That can’t be true!” said the kender. “I myself personally destroyed magic!”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” replied Jobin. “In actuality, we gnomes trapped magic in our machine.”

“Impossible,” said the kender. “Even gnomes couldn’t build something that traps magic.”

“Well, magic certainly wasn’t destroyed by a kender!” Jobin said, his face flushing, and his speech steadily increasing in speed. “Akendercouldn’tdestroymagicifhetried. Ithadtobegnomishingenuity.”

“Ridiculous,” the kender retorted. “Kender ingenuity can destroy anything! It’s vastly superior to gnome ingenuity!”

At this, Jobin did a very un-executive-vice-director-like thing and punched Halivar in the stomach. The kender tumbled over in a jangling mass of jewelry, but not before swinging his staff, tripping the gnome. Jobin also went down, and upon impact, nuts, bolts, and screws flew everywhere.

In reaction to this assault on their leader, half a dozen gnomes in Jobin’s party hefted wrenches and hammers and glared hostile gnomish glares at the winded kender. The small group of gnomes who had been so diligently modifying the signal cannon to point in a harmless direction suddenly resolved to point it directly at Halivar. Several other gnomes quickly ran to assist Jobin, who flailed miserably under the weight of his workman’s leather.

A moment later-just when both the kender and the gnome had risen to their feet and decided to hit each other again-Cedwick stood between them.

“Stop!” he shouted, a strange fire burning in his eyes.

“But-” both the gnome and the kender began.

“You will not have a fist fight on the Tower grounds!”

Both the kender and the gnome shrank away from him, and Cedwick suddenly realized he must be more intimidating than he thought. He kept up his vicious stare, wondering idly if it might work just as well against other people. The gnomes and kender continued to back away, holding their noses as they went and shifting farther and farther upwind. Cedwick thought about this idly as well, until he realized that intimidated people don’t generally travel upwind as they back away.

Suddenly he smelled it.

For a moment he thought the gnomes might have been using more than wood to power the Veryveryhot. Then, quite unexpectedly, something tugged meaningfully at his robe. Glancing down, he discovered a large clod of dirt smiling up at him.

Two beady, piglike black eyes squinted at him. Meaty, filth-encrusted hands soiled his robe. Something that resembled hair grew out of the top of the clod of dirt and spilled out across the rest of it.

“Hello!” it said through rotting teeth.

Cedwick drew in a sharp breath of surprise, then rather wished he hadn’t.

“Does Master Laudus always allow gully dwarves to come to his Tower?” the kender asked, still holding his nose tightly.

“Never,” Cedwick answered, although today apparently everyone was allowed on the Tower grounds.

“Helg come for High Robe. Looking for High Robe,” the grimy little creature said. “You High Robe?”

The Conclave was not doing a very good job of keeping its plans a secret.

“I-” began the apprentice mage.

“High Robe!” the female gully dwarf said delightedly. “Me come far! Bring message from great gully dwarf shaman.”

“If this has anything to do with lost magic-”

Helg stared at him a moment in awe. “You smart High Robe!” she said. “You know secret shaman message!”

“Little One,” Cedwick said, “you did not steal, destroy, or in any way take magic.”

The gully dwarf made a sour face.

“You not smart after all,” she said. “You sure you High Robe?”

The apprentice mage’s expression transformed from one of weary calm to one of sheer bewilderment.

“Course gully dwarves not steal magic!” Helg said. “Big men lose magic. Stupid. How lose magic? Magic everywhere!”

Cedwick began to wonder what sort of nightmare he was in, where kender and gnomes picked fights on his front lawn and gully dwarves lectured him on the nature of magic.

“That why I come to Tower. Helg show Robes where is magic!”

“Do you know where magic is? Can you show me?”

“Helg show!”

Very slowly and deliberately, the gully dwarf reached into her bundles of rags. Carefully she removed an object from its resting place and dropped it in the young man’s outstretched hand.

Cedwick peered at it, suddenly realizing that the source of Helg’s magic resembled a small, very desiccated frog.

“Frog magic,” said Helg. “Very powerful!”

The apprentice mage began to turn green, a color the frog had not been for some time.

“Frog magic, indeed,” he heard Jobin remark to Halivar. Halivar snorted in derision.

Helg, however, heard them as well, and she reacted much less tolerantly. Faster than a desiccated frog could hop, she was across the courtyard. Two pudgy fists gave both the gnome and the kender a clout in the head.

This time, the scene erupted into an all-out war. The gnomes responded to the gully dwarf’s temper by scampering for suitable weapons. The kender smacked the gully dwarf with his staff; then, for good measure, he struck Jobin as well.

Jobin, not at all pleased at being clouted and struck, decided to retreat to the safety of the Veryveryhot. Helg followed quickly. Halivar, beset momentarily by several angry gnomes, swung his staff about as if it were a sword. Fortunately, it was not.

“Stop!” Cedwick cried amid the confusion. However, at that exact moment, someone set off the signal cannon, which in turn sent the warning siren blaring.

The whole spectacle became a massive brawl. The gnomes, outnumbering the gully dwarf and kender twelve to two, fought each other, “just to be fair.” Guild fought guild, and committee fought committee. Cedwick caught sight of Jobin and his cousin, wrenches locked. Somewhere above the screaming of the siren, someone was shrieking to be let out of the signal cannon.

The young apprentice mage waded into the fray, struggling to restore order, but every time he pulled a pair of fighters apart, another pair took their place. Just as he settled the second argument, a third fight ensued. By the time he finished with those two, the first two were at it again.

Standing atop the God Trap Machine, Helg held aloft the mummified frog, preaching, “This! This what happen when man lose sight of magic!”

Cedwick felt it was the most profound statement he had heard all day.

Quite suddenly, Halivar brought his staff down on part of the God Trap Machine. Something swiveled sharply, and with a loud crack the top of the God Trap flew off at tremendous speed. The unsuspecting gully dwarf rocketed off the machine with a startled cry. Even the gnomes stopped their sparring to take notice.

With a thud, Helg flew directly into Cedwick. The apprentice mage collapsed in the dirt. As his head connected with the ground, something within the young man mentioned that this might be a dandy moment to lose consciousness.

But he didn’t.

“Cedwick!”

The apprentice mage’s eyes snapped open. Dread clutched his heart. He crawled to his feet.

“Thank goodness!” Halivar said. “I thought I killed you!”

Cedwick paid him no mind. In the doorway of the Tower stood Master Laudus. Shadows played about his gaunt, narrow features, and his eyes burned with electric intensity. His arms moved in precise, rehearsed motions, and his robes flowed about him in billowing ripples.

Something sizzled through the air, landed amid the brawling mob, and exploded in a cloud of smoke. Instantly, the gnomes, kender, and gully dwarf began to gag and choke on the fumes. Cedwick’s eyes watered from the stench.

Blinking away tears, the apprentice caught sight of the archmage. The old man motioned to him. His glare told Cedwick everything the young man needed to know.

Cedwick stepped out of the cloud and prepared for a lecture.

As the smoke cleared, Cedwick returned to the group. None of them were fighting anymore. Without exception, they all sat on the ground and gasped hard for air. They watched each other with wide-eyed stares.

When they worked up enough energy to speak, the babble began.

“Hey, was that magic?”

“I thought magic was gone!”

“Robes have strong magic for not-have magic!”

Cedwick silenced them by raising his hand.

“I have just, uh, spoken to Master Laudus,” he said smoothly. “The demonstration you just received is an example of how great a wizard he is even without magic.”

The others nodded solemnly.

“What did he say?” asked Jobin.

“1 gave him your information. He has asked us to carry on research in his absence.”

“Then our mission was successful?” Halivar asked.

“It would seem so.”

The group cheered. Cedwick silenced them.

“Since we cannot be sure what exactly happened to magic,” the apprentice mage explained, “Halivar will be placed in charge of “The reacquisition of magic in the event that it has been destroyed.’ The gnomes will be in charge of “The reacquisition of magic in the event that it is merely trapped.’ In the meantime, Helg will teach me the arts of frog magic. I will act as a personal liaison between the three groups.”

The audience applauded, and several gnomes commented at the profoundly gnomish ingenuity of the plan.

“Let me add that I am honored to work with each of you,” Cedwick continued. “You have proven yourselves dedicated to the search for magic. Such dedication is hard to find.”

All the little faces beamed at this point. Cedwick smiled in return.

“Furthermore,” the young man said, “each of you brings a personal insight to this dilemma. Such varied experiences will make it easier for us to find magic together.”

The gnomes applauded this, and the kender shouted “Bravo!” The gully dwarf merely grinned a huge gully dwarf grin.

Cedwick grinned back. “So I would like to thank you, in advance, for the personal sacrifices you are making. .”

Suddenly, the expressions of the group turned to blank stares. The gnomes looked at each other, searching for some meaning to the statement. Halivar glanced down at the floor.

“I say sacrifices, because that is clearly what is required,” the apprentice mage said. “Even with all of us working together, it may take years, even decades, before we complete our research. During that time, we will work tirelessly. Wanderlust shall never affect us, nor shall we permit the rigors of travel to interfere with our schedule. Instead, we will sit in musty rooms devoid of sunlight. We will read book after book, until we can no longer remember what trees and birds and flowers look like. We may forget all the joys of the outside world. It will be grueling-even boring-but we make this commitment, not for ourselves, but for the future of magic.”

He paused again, as many eyes stared back at him. A few of the gnomes applauded again. However, one pair of eyes-the kender’s-refused to meet his gaze.

Cedwick went on, “Nor shall we despair for our friends and our families. We may never again see those we love. We may never again find the life we knew. Little Helg,” he motioned to the gully dwarf, “may never again taste the stew of her homeland. She will never affectionately whomp another gully dwarf. Instead, she will live here among strangers, where whomping is not allowed. Here, in this Tower, she must break from every gully dwarf tradition. She must even bathe daily. Is that not sacrifice?”

The gnomes nodded in assent, although a few commented quietly that regular bathing didn’t seem such an awful sacrifice. Helg, however, wore a mask of abject terror. From the other side of the room, Halivar sniffled softly.

“Yes, we must all make sacrifices,” Cedwick said nobly, “but perhaps the greatest sacrifice shall come from the gnomes.”

At this, the gnomes glanced at him in bewilderment.

“Yes,” the apprentice mage continued, “already, they have sacrificed so much simply to be here. In the coming years, their life quests will go unfinished. Their committees back at Mount Nevermind will scorn them. It is quite possible that they may live their remaining years in exile. These brave souls choose to sacrifice their entire lives for magic. What greater sacrifice can there be?”

The gnomes looked about in disdain. A low murmur passed through the crowd.

Prodded by his fellow gnomes, Jobin rose to his feet. Gradually, all the gnomes joined him where he stood.

“Master Cedwick,” Jobin said, slowly and carefully, “upon consideration of the circumstances involved in this daunting task, the gnomes of Mount Nevermind must regretfully decline the honor of working with you and your esteemed comrades.

“Furthermore,” he went on, “we now have cause to believe that the God Trap Machine is not responsible for the disappearance of magic on Krynn. We believe that the data received from the Guild of Magic Analysis and Prestidigital Improvements may be erroneous. Thus, we have resolved to return to Mount Nevermind and begin a formal inquiry into the matter.”

Cedwick listened to the news gravely.

“We will truly miss your wealth of knowledge and ideas here in the Tower, but what you propose is quite important. Have a safe journey, Executive Vice-Director.”

The gnomes gave a loud cheer. Jobin assured Cedwick that it was an expression of profound disappointment.

As Cedwick watched them gather their materials onto the Veryveryhot, he felt a familiar tug on his robes. The young man knelt down to speak with the gully dwarf.

“High Robe,” Helg said, holding out the frog, “you take frog? Not need Helg?”

“Helg, must you leave?”

“Must,” Helg nodded fervently. “Have to tell shaman. Tell him you very smart High Robe. Tell him you have frog.”

“Thank you, Little One,” Cedwick said. “You can go home.”

The gully dwarf carefully placed the frog at his feet and scampered away into the forest.

“Master Cedwick?” came a timid voice from behind him. The apprentice turned and smiled at Halivar Wizardslayer.

“Yes, Halivar?” he said. “Are you ready to begin the sacrifice?”

Halivar blanched. “Actually,” the kender said, “I was wondering if-you know, if you really needed me.”

The apprentice mage put his hand on the kender’s shoulder.

“Halivar,” Cedwick asked, “are you having doubts?”

Halivar nodded, too ashamed to speak.

“But Halivar,” Cedwick said, “you were the one who started this. Without you, I never would have considered such an undertaking.”

“I know,” said the kender, “but I was thinking. Maybe I should keep wandering around for a little while longer. Maybe when I destroyed magic, I didn’t destroy all of it. I could keep looking while you study the issue here at the Tower.”

Cedwick smiled. “That’s an excellent idea, Halivar.”

Halivar looked up and grinned. “Is it? I mean, it is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” said the apprentice mage, grinning in return. “I would never keep a god against his will.”

The kender’s face filled with joy, “Thank you, Master Cedwick! You are truly a great wizard!” He added, “I’m really very glad I didn’t kill you earlier!”

“I’m rather glad you didn’t also,” the young man confided.

“Maybe my curse is over!”

“Just so,” smiled Cedwick. “Just so.”

The kender gave a jingling bow, which Cedwick returned. He smiled a very god-like smile and wandered away, blowing on a newly found whistle and admiring an empty inkwell.

Cedwick watched in silence as the kender disappeared into the forest. After a while, even the whistle faded away.

“Well?” came Master Laudus’s stern voice.

“It worked,” said Cedwick.

“Of course it worked. It was my idea.”

The archmage appeared from around the corner leading his horse and the pack mule.

“Master Laudus, I’m truly sorry-

“What’s done is done, Cedwick.”

Cedwick sighed in relief and went to help his master into the saddle.

“No, no, Cedwick,” said Laudus, stopping him. “You get to ride this time.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You have a very important responsibility.”

To Cedwick’s surprise, the old man lifted him off his feet and set him on the horse, backwards. The old mage knelt down, picked something up off the ground, and placed it in the apprentice’s hands. He swung himself onto the horse.

“You get to mind the frog.”