Free Guardians of the Lost by Margaret Weis Page B

still many hours away, but one could see fairly well by the lambent light of moon and stars, for there were no trees to cast shadows. The three trudged down the trail. Wolfram had more stories, but was not in the mood to tell them. Perversely, hewas sleepy now and that made him grumpy, right when he needed to continue to exude charm. He had noted that Jessan was starting to keep closer watch on landmarks, guessed that soon they were going to leave the trail, strike out across the open prairie.
    About an hour into the march, Jessan came to a halt beside a group of stones that had been sorted into a pile alongside of the trail. The trail ran east and west. Jessan looked to the north. He left it to the pecwae to speak.
    â€œWe turn off here,” Bashae announced. “Thank you for the stories and thank you for helping me with the elf.”
    Jessan muttered something that Wolfram couldn’t catch.
    â€œA good journey to you, sir,” Bashae added politely.
    Wolfram felt a small twinge of warmth from the bracelet, but he didn’t need the prompting. He knew well enough that he was supposed to stick with these two, though for what earthly reason, he couldn’t tell.
    â€œThank you,” he said, equally polite. “I would like very much to continue to travel with you. I hope to consult with your grandmother,” he added, speaking to the pecwae. “A woman of vast wisdom.”
    Bashae looked to Jessan, who shook his head. He did not so much as glance at the dwarf, but continued to gaze to the north. “No,” he said.
    Wolfram could always trail them the next day, but he would need to be accepted by the Trevenici people and he didn’t want to start off by seeming to have sneaked up on their dwelling places like a thief. He was thinking over what arguments he might use when, unexpectedly, the pecwae came to the dwarf’s rescue.
    â€œLet’s take him with us,” said Bashae, speaking in Tirniv.
    Jessan shook his head.
    â€œNo one in our village has ever seen a dwarf,” Bashae argued. “Not even your uncle Ravenstrike. Think what a sensation it will cause when we bring Wolfram into our village. And he will be our dwarf. No one else can claim him. Bear Paw will be sick with envy, for all his trophies. What’s a puny, shriveled up old head compared to a real, live dwarf!”
    Jessan appeared to consider this.
    â€œEspecially to Bright Dawn,” Bashae insinuated cleverly. “She’s never seen a dwarf and she’s seen lots of shriveled up old heads.”
    Wolfram stood looking ignorant, not supposed to be understanding any of this. He supposed he should feel insulted, being valued like a freak at the fair, but if this insured his continuing with the two young men, then he would willingly put on a good show.
    â€œYou’re not afraid of him, are you?” Bashae asked with every appearance of innocence.
    â€œOf course not,” Jessan returned, with a disparaging glance at the dwarf.
    â€œThen let’s take him,” Bashae urged.
    The pecwae had handled this very cleverly. If Jessan refused now, he would later and for all time be accused of being afraid of dwarves. Jessan seemed to realize he was being maneuvered into a corner, but didn’t know how to escape. Wolfram obtained a much clearer idea of the relationship between the pecwae and Trevenici. One accustomed to living life by walking always a straight path was bound to trip over one who darted around him in circles.
    â€œThe dwarf can come,” Jessan said in no very gracious tone.
    â€œYou can come with us,” Bashae stated excitedly, turning to Wolfram. “We talked it over, my friend and I. I told him that my grandmother would be very interested in speaking with you and he agrees with me.”
    Wolfram said what was polite, thanking both young men for allowing him the pleasure of their companionship and the very great honor of bringing him into their village. Jessan