up so high, I’m surprised you ever notice anything beneath your noses.”
“Shh, Sindri!” Catriona said. “Try not to draw attention to yourself!” She adjusted the rain cloak to cover the crate and pulled the hood up, concealing Sindri’s pointed ears.
Davyn snorted. “He doesn’t look human. His head’s still kender-sized.”
Catriona frowned. “Maybe so, but he looks good enough to pass for human at a distance.”
“A very long distance,” Davyn muttered. “Say ten or twenty miles.”
When the serving woman brought their food, she gave Sindri a strange look. But she set their dinners onto the table without a word. They had all ordered the same thing: mutton stew with onions, peas, and beans served in trenchers of bowl-shaped dark bread. As they ate, Nearra turned to Elidor.
“I’m afraid I don’t recall much about elves,” she said. “Perhaps you could refresh my memory?”
The elf laughed. “There’s so much to tell, I hardly know where to begin!” He thought for a moment. “Well, for one thing, though I appear to be a teenager, just like the rest of you, I am in fact sixty-three years old. Since my people typically live to be over five hundred, even a Kagonesti isn’t considered a full-fledged adult until the age of eighty.”
“What does Kagonesti mean?” Nearra said.
Elidor’s eyebrows lifted. “You really don’t remember much, do you?” He took in a deep breath then continued, “There are several different races of elves. Silvanesti claim to be the first elves of Krynn. The Qualinesti are smaller and darker than their Silvanesti cousins. Dimernesti and Dargonesti are sea elves. The Kagonesti are known as wild elves. I happen to be part Kagonesti and part Silvanesti.”
Sindri tore off a hunk of bread from his trencher and spoke as he chewed. “I’ve heard that Silvanesti elves don’t approve of having children with other types of elves. If that’s true, how could you be half Silvanesti and half Kagonesti?”
Elidor glared at the kender, and a tense silence fell over the table.
Sindri, who had been in the process of taking a bite of stew, stopped, the spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Elidor gave the kender a smile that seemed forced. “Thematter is a sensitive one among elves, and we do not usually discuss it with those of other races.”
“Oh,” Sindri said. Then he shrugged and returned to eating as if nothing had happened.
Nearra hastened to change the subject. “Elidor, what can you tell me of the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars?”
Elidor cleared his throat. “Well—”
“Oh, let me tell the story!” Sindri said. “One of the things I love most—besides magic, of course—is collecting stories, especially stories that deal with magic. That’s why I’m so excited about going to the temple. I learned all about it from a wizard named Fizban at the Inn of the Last Home.” Elidor nodded and Sindri continued, his voice taking on the tone of a practiced storyteller.
“These events took place before the Cataclysm, so it’s difficult to tell how much of the story is fact and how much is legend. But according to the tale, the temple was founded by a cleric named Elethia. It was her dream to create a place where priests and priestesses of all the gods could live and work together. Clerics from all over Ansalon came to be part of Elethia’s dream, and her temple grew in size, beauty, and power. But one day a fierce red dragon called Kiernan the Crimson decided to claim the lands surrounding Tresvka as his own.”
Nearra couldn’t help shuddering as Sindri said the word dragon. Once again she saw Slean’s eyes, heard her harsh voice, saw her mouth opening to display twin rows of sharp teeth …
Sindri continued. “Kiernan began attacking the trading caravans, demanding they pay him tribute if they wished to live to complete their journeys. The caravan masters had no choice but to give Kiernan whatever valuables he
“Shh, Sindri!” Catriona said. “Try not to draw attention to yourself!” She adjusted the rain cloak to cover the crate and pulled the hood up, concealing Sindri’s pointed ears.
Davyn snorted. “He doesn’t look human. His head’s still kender-sized.”
Catriona frowned. “Maybe so, but he looks good enough to pass for human at a distance.”
“A very long distance,” Davyn muttered. “Say ten or twenty miles.”
When the serving woman brought their food, she gave Sindri a strange look. But she set their dinners onto the table without a word. They had all ordered the same thing: mutton stew with onions, peas, and beans served in trenchers of bowl-shaped dark bread. As they ate, Nearra turned to Elidor.
“I’m afraid I don’t recall much about elves,” she said. “Perhaps you could refresh my memory?”
The elf laughed. “There’s so much to tell, I hardly know where to begin!” He thought for a moment. “Well, for one thing, though I appear to be a teenager, just like the rest of you, I am in fact sixty-three years old. Since my people typically live to be over five hundred, even a Kagonesti isn’t considered a full-fledged adult until the age of eighty.”
“What does Kagonesti mean?” Nearra said.
Elidor’s eyebrows lifted. “You really don’t remember much, do you?” He took in a deep breath then continued, “There are several different races of elves. Silvanesti claim to be the first elves of Krynn. The Qualinesti are smaller and darker than their Silvanesti cousins. Dimernesti and Dargonesti are sea elves. The Kagonesti are known as wild elves. I happen to be part Kagonesti and part Silvanesti.”
Sindri tore off a hunk of bread from his trencher and spoke as he chewed. “I’ve heard that Silvanesti elves don’t approve of having children with other types of elves. If that’s true, how could you be half Silvanesti and half Kagonesti?”
Elidor glared at the kender, and a tense silence fell over the table.
Sindri, who had been in the process of taking a bite of stew, stopped, the spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Elidor gave the kender a smile that seemed forced. “Thematter is a sensitive one among elves, and we do not usually discuss it with those of other races.”
“Oh,” Sindri said. Then he shrugged and returned to eating as if nothing had happened.
Nearra hastened to change the subject. “Elidor, what can you tell me of the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars?”
Elidor cleared his throat. “Well—”
“Oh, let me tell the story!” Sindri said. “One of the things I love most—besides magic, of course—is collecting stories, especially stories that deal with magic. That’s why I’m so excited about going to the temple. I learned all about it from a wizard named Fizban at the Inn of the Last Home.” Elidor nodded and Sindri continued, his voice taking on the tone of a practiced storyteller.
“These events took place before the Cataclysm, so it’s difficult to tell how much of the story is fact and how much is legend. But according to the tale, the temple was founded by a cleric named Elethia. It was her dream to create a place where priests and priestesses of all the gods could live and work together. Clerics from all over Ansalon came to be part of Elethia’s dream, and her temple grew in size, beauty, and power. But one day a fierce red dragon called Kiernan the Crimson decided to claim the lands surrounding Tresvka as his own.”
Nearra couldn’t help shuddering as Sindri said the word dragon. Once again she saw Slean’s eyes, heard her harsh voice, saw her mouth opening to display twin rows of sharp teeth …
Sindri continued. “Kiernan began attacking the trading caravans, demanding they pay him tribute if they wished to live to complete their journeys. The caravan masters had no choice but to give Kiernan whatever valuables he
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