stopped in midsentence and fought back his rage. Anger would not recover their belongings. “Forget it. Anybody who can rifle packs beneath your nose is no ordinary thief.”
Midnight studied the fighter in open astonishment. “You can’t be Kelemvor Lyonsbane!” It was not like him to be so forgiving. The fighter’s calm demeanor made Midnight feel embarrassed by her own anger. Still, she couldn’t contain it. Without her spellbook, she was powerless.
Adon was paying no attention to either of them. He snatched up the saddlebags containing the tablet and slung them over his shoulder. He felt like a fool for letting the thief return, but he could live with embarrassment as long as they had the tablet.
Though he had conquered his anger, Kelemvor wasn’t ready to give their possessions up for lost. He went to the edge of the campsite and carefully inspected the shrubbery. After several minutes of searching, he found a few crumbs of corn biscuit. The warrior quietly called his companions over and pointed out the crumbs.
Midnight started into the forest at a sprint, heedless of the noise she was making. Kelemvor and Adon quickly caught her.
“Slowly,” the fighter suggested, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“We don’t have time!” she retorted. “The thief has my spellbook!”
“He won’t get far tonight,” Kelemvor replied. “But if he hears us coming, we’ll never find him.”
“What makes you think he’s afraid of the dark?” Midnight snapped, twisting free of Kelemvor’s grip.
“Fan out and be quiet,” Adon ordered, taking charge of the situation. He knew Kelemvor was right about moving quietly, but he also thought it unlikely they would find the thief on the basis of a few crumbs. “We need another clue before we know which way our thief went.”
Midnight sighed and did as the cleric suggested. Ten minutes later, she found a ball of sulfur wax on the ground. It was one of the extra spell components she had kept in one of her saddlebags.
“It’s not much,” Adon noted, turning the ball over in his hand, “but it’s all we have to go on.” He traced a line from where Kelemvor found the crumbs to where Midnight found the wax. It led away from camp at an angle ninety degrees to the direction Midnight and Kelemvor had originally intended to go. “I’d say he’s out there somewhere. We’d better approach quietly.”
The trio began picking their way through the dark forest. Several times, a foot fell on a dry stick and snapped it, and once Adon tripped and could not contain a groan as he landed. Nevertheless, the heroes’ eyes quickly grew accustomed to the dark and they became more adept at moving quietly.
Soon, the telltale glimmer of a campfire danced off the tree trunks ahead. The companions slowed their pace and crept up to the edge of a clearing.
Two dozen halflings, mostly women and children, sat in a circle. They wore the same simple cotton clothes as the dead halflings from the village. A matronly woman was using Kelemvor’s dagger to slice corn cakes into bite-sized portions. Three juicy rabbits, each large enough to feed the entire camp, roasted over the fire.
Several halfling children huddled together beneath a tent made from Kelemvor’s heavy cloak, while an old man poured wine down his throat from the thumb of Kelemvor’s glove. Although the camp did not appear cheerful, neither was it melancholy. The halflings were resolutely continuing their lives under adverse conditions, and Kelemvor could not help but admire their determination.
Adon signaled the fighter to circle around to the left side of the camp then instructed Midnight to circle around to the right. The cleric silently indicated that he would stay where he was.
Kelemvor moved to obey and, seven steps later, put his foot on a stick. It cracked with an alarming pop. The halflings turned toward the sound, and the adults grabbed nearby large sticks to serve as weapons.
The warrior shrugged and stepped into
Midnight studied the fighter in open astonishment. “You can’t be Kelemvor Lyonsbane!” It was not like him to be so forgiving. The fighter’s calm demeanor made Midnight feel embarrassed by her own anger. Still, she couldn’t contain it. Without her spellbook, she was powerless.
Adon was paying no attention to either of them. He snatched up the saddlebags containing the tablet and slung them over his shoulder. He felt like a fool for letting the thief return, but he could live with embarrassment as long as they had the tablet.
Though he had conquered his anger, Kelemvor wasn’t ready to give their possessions up for lost. He went to the edge of the campsite and carefully inspected the shrubbery. After several minutes of searching, he found a few crumbs of corn biscuit. The warrior quietly called his companions over and pointed out the crumbs.
Midnight started into the forest at a sprint, heedless of the noise she was making. Kelemvor and Adon quickly caught her.
“Slowly,” the fighter suggested, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“We don’t have time!” she retorted. “The thief has my spellbook!”
“He won’t get far tonight,” Kelemvor replied. “But if he hears us coming, we’ll never find him.”
“What makes you think he’s afraid of the dark?” Midnight snapped, twisting free of Kelemvor’s grip.
“Fan out and be quiet,” Adon ordered, taking charge of the situation. He knew Kelemvor was right about moving quietly, but he also thought it unlikely they would find the thief on the basis of a few crumbs. “We need another clue before we know which way our thief went.”
Midnight sighed and did as the cleric suggested. Ten minutes later, she found a ball of sulfur wax on the ground. It was one of the extra spell components she had kept in one of her saddlebags.
“It’s not much,” Adon noted, turning the ball over in his hand, “but it’s all we have to go on.” He traced a line from where Kelemvor found the crumbs to where Midnight found the wax. It led away from camp at an angle ninety degrees to the direction Midnight and Kelemvor had originally intended to go. “I’d say he’s out there somewhere. We’d better approach quietly.”
The trio began picking their way through the dark forest. Several times, a foot fell on a dry stick and snapped it, and once Adon tripped and could not contain a groan as he landed. Nevertheless, the heroes’ eyes quickly grew accustomed to the dark and they became more adept at moving quietly.
Soon, the telltale glimmer of a campfire danced off the tree trunks ahead. The companions slowed their pace and crept up to the edge of a clearing.
Two dozen halflings, mostly women and children, sat in a circle. They wore the same simple cotton clothes as the dead halflings from the village. A matronly woman was using Kelemvor’s dagger to slice corn cakes into bite-sized portions. Three juicy rabbits, each large enough to feed the entire camp, roasted over the fire.
Several halfling children huddled together beneath a tent made from Kelemvor’s heavy cloak, while an old man poured wine down his throat from the thumb of Kelemvor’s glove. Although the camp did not appear cheerful, neither was it melancholy. The halflings were resolutely continuing their lives under adverse conditions, and Kelemvor could not help but admire their determination.
Adon signaled the fighter to circle around to the left side of the camp then instructed Midnight to circle around to the right. The cleric silently indicated that he would stay where he was.
Kelemvor moved to obey and, seven steps later, put his foot on a stick. It cracked with an alarming pop. The halflings turned toward the sound, and the adults grabbed nearby large sticks to serve as weapons.
The warrior shrugged and stepped into
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