Dixie Lee McKeone - Tales of Uncle Trapspringer

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Dixie Lee McKeone
Tales of Uncle Trapspringer
This is a story about my Uncle Trapspringer. It seems that a long, long time ago ...
Chapter 1
In the great library of Palanthus, Astinus, the chronicler of the history of Krynn, was recording important
events on Ansalon....
The lobo wolf peered through the brush, his yellow eyes seeking enemies and prey, his sensitive nose
sniffing for danger on the breeze. He crouched beneath the bushes on an unnatural rise of tumbled stones
overlaid with earth and undergrowth and gazed at a place nature had no part in building.
Man-place, his senses warned him. A place of two-legs with their flying, wounding shafts. He had no
concept of structures, but he knew straight walls were no part of nature; they were man-work. His experience
also told him that man-work falling down, walls crumbling, was no longer the den of his mortal enemy. He had
seen other places where nature was taking back what the tall two-legs had left when they moved on to new
lairs.
Off to the right of where he stood peering through the bushes, he saw the dimness of a narrow entrance,
almost obscured by creeping plants. The darkness within suggested it was covered above. It called to him, its
shadowy depths promising safety from his enemies, even if he did not find food inside.
He crept through the brush, through the high weeds and across the new spring grass that separated the
man-place from the forest, sniffing as he went. He discovered the three-day-old trail of a rabbit. Fresher was
the trail of a mouse and the owl that had caught the rodent and made a meal of it, but no man scent. He
stopped at the dark entrance and noticed the scent of more mice. He crept into the shadows of the ruin,
found a bed of leaves that the wind had blown into the shelter and curled up to sleep.
The wolf felt safe because he knew the tall two-legs were gone.
He was wrong.
The ruin was not abandoned.
Two hundred feet below where the wolf slept, a heavy-boned man walked down the passage of an old,
deep dungeon. As he passed down the corridor, torches set in wall sconces burst into flame as he neared
them and magically died away after he had passed. The stones in the walls and the arched ceilings still
emanated an aura of the pain and suffering that had taken place in the dungeons of Pey. The horror had been
mortal and had no power to disturb Draaddis Vulter.
His torture came from a different source. Nothing fearful impeded his path as he walked to his work
chamber, but he dreaded making the journey. Once there he could be subjected to horrors only the most
twisted of minds could conceive, and his return trip would tax all his mental reserves.
He was paying the price of having offended his god.
The huge domed vault that served him for a laboratory had long ago been stripped of its tools of misery to
make room for a different kind of evil. It was now the laboratory of the black-robed wizard. Draaddis would
have preferred a tower, but to show himself openly would put his life in danger.
More than a century after the Cataclysm, wizards and clerics still hid and worked in secret. The people of
Krynn had never forgiven the users of magic for the disaster that sundered the world of Ansalon. The knights,
the wizards, and most of the clerics had not taken part in the destruction, but, in truth, they might have been
able to prevent it.
The responsibility for the disaster belonged to the King-priest of Istar and his followers. The clerics of Istar
had grown in power until neither the wizards of Krynn nor the priest-knights of Solamnia had been willing to
openly oppose them. As time passed the Kingpriest and his followers grew enamored of their own holiness.
In their conceit, they demanded an end to the balance of good and evil that held sway over Ansalon.
The Kingpriest of Istar challenged the gods.
The answer had been swift and catastrophic. The great lands of Istar, with its magnificent temples, sank
beneath the Sea of Blood. All over Krynn mountains crumbled, new ranges rose, torn out of the earth by the
anger of the gods. Seas flowed in and drowned great cities. Then, following the rending of the world, came
war, plague, pestilence, and starvation, all riding on the winds of the immortal wrath.
In the minds of the citizens, the wizards and knights shared the blame. They had known the inevitable
result of the Kingpriest's arrogance and had done nothing to stop him. The conclave of wizards had debated
what details they could surmise of the imminent upheaval. They had decided not to interfere. The white-robed
wizards dedicated to lawful practice, the red-robed neutrals, and the black, the followers of the evil Takhisis,
were one in their desire to maintain the balance of good and evil.
The Cataclysm came and went, and Draaddis Vulter, the most powerful of his order, hid in secret and trod
the passages of an old dungeon and used the torture chamber for his laboratory.
Shelves lined the walls and ancient books in their black bindings were strewn about carelessly on the
work tables, as if pulled from the shelves, searched, and thrown down in anger and frustration.
Across the vaulted chamber other shelves held the results of vile experiments, grisly parts of what had
once been living beings, denied a natural death. In one, an animal heart continued a slow, even beat. In
another a scaled and clawed hand, severed at the wrist, grasped at the air as it pushed against the side of its
glass container. Open crocks held working mixtures, their surfaces in slow and constant movement as
bubbles broke the viscous surfaces and slowly popped, releasing noxious gases.
Draaddis Vulter ignored his abandoned or ongoing experiments and strode to the center of the room. He
approached a stile, four feet high, covered with a black silken drape that was lavishly trimmed with gold. He
lifted the drape, exposing an iridescent black globe two feet in diameter. From it emanated an evil that
caused the wolf, in the ruins two hundred feet above, to whine in his sleep.
An eye appeared in the globe. Heavily lashed and slightly slanted at the outer corner, it was definitely a
female eye. Draaddis gave a low bow.
"Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, Our Lady of the Dragons, Ruler of the Nine Hells, " he murmured.
"Greetings. "
"Why have you called me, Draaddis?"-the voice was low and sultry, filling the wizard with shivers of fear
and delight-"Have you found an answer?"
"Not one of my own making, my queen, but I may have discovered a way for you to enter this world. I
wanted to lay my findings before you in the hope that your divine wisdom would help me decide if the
discovery is what we seek. "
The single eye of the evil goddess brightened. More than a millennium had passed since Huma, riding the
silver dragon Gwynneth, had used the dragonlances to drive Takhisis and her chromatic dragons from the
world of Krynn. From the First Plane of the Infernal Realms, Takhisis could only peer through magically
constructed windows like the globe. She lusted for the corruption she could create if she could reach the
world of mortals again.
"Tell me, " she demanded. "Show me, "
"Ten days ago, while traveling on the shadow plane-"
"Ten days?" Takhisis hissed and the chamber floor suddenly flowed with serpents. They coiled on the
tables and slithered down the stools, massing on the floor and crawling over each other to reach the wizard.
Draaddis's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He shuddered uncontrollably. They slithered up his legs,
wrapped themselves around his arms, their fanged mouths struck at his face and neck. The fangs tore at his
flesh and the poison from the fangs burned through his veins like rivers of fire.
He trembled violently and forced himself to remember illusion was the only power the goddess could use
against him.
Shut them out. He ordered his mind to shut out what his eyes and nerves told him was true.
He found his voice and continued his explanation. He forced himself to think beyond the crushing, biting
pain and the fire in his blood.
"And while on the shadow plane I chanced to meet another wizard, a young red robe, seeking a way to
the Core of All Worlds, " He gasped out the beginning of his tale. With it went the image of the serpents.
With them went the pain. He touched his face to assure himself of what he knew. The torture had been an
illusion; his skin was whole. Draaddis took a deep breath and went on with his story.
"The red robe had some garbled tale of stones that could be gathered there. He claimed they would open
a portal to any plane-"
"Bring him to the orb, I will question him, " Takhisis demanded, but Draaddis shook his head.
"I fear, my queen, to learn even the little I did, I was forced to strip him of his knowledge. " Draaddis
shrugged. "He was a fool, with more courage than strength, and as I said he was young, still learning his art.
He did not survive my entry into his mind. I have his knowledge, but it was incomplete. For the past ten days I
have been searching out the mysterious red robe who has a set of these gate stones. "
"Did you find him?"
"I have found him, my queen, and more. I have used a construct to place a viewing disk in his work
chamber so we can judge for ourselves the worth of his find in the Core of Worlds. "
Draaddis waved a hand in the direction of the largest table, where a red-eyed rat sat scratching his ear. A
closer look showed a pair of wings pressed flat to its back. When the eye of the dread queen turned in its
direction, the rat backed up to hide behind a stack of books.
"You have done well, " Takhisis said, momentarily drawing back from the globe. When he could see her
entire face, Draaddis trembled even more violently. In her human form, the Dark Queen's beauty was
incomparable. Her perfect features and eyes held more allure than any mortal face. Her sensuous mouth,
even in repose, gave promise of delights no mortal woman could offer. Just gazing at her made Draaddis
forget the danger inherent in the presence of the ruler of the Abyss.
"Show me!" With the command she put her eye to the globe again and all he saw was the dark pupil that
followed his movements around the chamber.
"The seeing disk is mated to this one, " Draaddis told his queen, opening his hand. He showed her a
small, intricately carved disk of gray-green glass. A tail of carved magic runes, individually too small for the
unaided eye to discern, swirled out from a small carving in the center to the edge of the glass. Draaddis
placed the disk on a round, unadorned mirror that lay flat on the table.
The stile that held the black globe disappeared, along with the black-robed wizard, the shelves, the grisly
experiments, and the dusty murkiness of Draaddis's work room. It seemed as if they had instantly been
transported into another underground chamber. By the barely discernible odor of vegetable decay, it had in
the past been used as a huge food larder. This, too, was a wizard's laboratory and held all the clutter of
alchemy, save the experiments were not of such a grizzly nature. The chamber was cleaner and
clean-burning torches purified the air. Old carpets of intricate design covered the floor, and the wall sconces
that held the torches were ornate enough to have graced a lord's dining hall.
Two people were in the room. Orander Marlbenit, a master wizard in red robes sat at a table, pouring over
a book. Across from him, what Draaddis first thought was a child of four or five years, stood on a bench,
pouring tea into a cup. The pot was too large for her tiny hands. The little figure also wore a red robe, and
beside her a short staff leaned against the bench. Thick, curling black hair framed her face and tumbled down
her back. When she turned to put the pot back on a tray, they saw her face. The diminutive size was at odds
with the maturity of a young woman in her twenties.
"At least have a cup of tea before you begin, " she said. Her voice was highly pitched and childlike, but
the tones were that of an adult. When the wizard continued reading she became exasperated.
"Master Orander!" she spat. "You need strength for your studies, and even more if you try the experiment.
"The larger figure raised his head. White hair peeked out from under his hood and bright blue eyes sparkled
beneath a pair of heavy white eyebrows. His beard, also white, had been inexpertly cut short, a concession to
convenience rather than style. He smiled at his companion.
"You make too much of it, Halmarain. I won't be in any danger, and I won't be gone long. I'll just test the
stones on a benign plane. " He pointed at a passage in the book he was reading.
"Alchviem says here that the tone is everything. Once the vibration starts if we keep the note soft and
steady, there's nothing to fear. " "But there's still a doubt, " Halmarain snapped.
Orander frowned. "Halmarain, we are students of the nature of magic, and we will face any danger to
further our art. You will either accept that fact or find another teacher."
"I would rather keep the one I have," she retorted. Her eyes were softer than her voice and they showed
her concern. "Remember, all you've learned will be gone if you don't come back."
Orander laughed. "All this argument, and we don't even know if the stones can open a portal to another
plane."
"I almost hope they don't," the tiny woman replied, shaking her head.
Chapter 2
When my Uncle Trapspringer set out on his first great adventure his sister, Ripple, went along to keep
him company. They were approaching Lytburg when they saw some soldiers who spied them at the same
time....
"Kender!" the soldier shouted, pointing toward Trap-springer and Ripple Fargo who had just rounded a
bend in the dusty road. The warning alerted the rest of the troop, who were taking advantage of the forest
shade to rest and eat a midday meal. The soldiers tossed food and flasks aside as they jumped to their feet,
most dashing for their horses.
"Wow, look, they certainly seem glad to see us," said Trap, as his family called him. He watched the
soldiers run into each other as they tried to reach their mounts.
"Lytburg must be a friendly place," his sister, Ripple, replied. She waved at the few soldiers who were still
staring in their direction, then brushed at the road dust on her leather leggings and boots and swept a hand
from her forehead to her top knot, checking to see if any tendrils had worked loose.
"I told you we should have found a stream and washed away the dust from the road," she said. "It's the
least we could have done for people who are glad to see us. I'm so glad they are here, I've been so tired of not
seeing anyone on the road, and they're eating, do you think they might share some of their food with us?"
She gave a skip as she walked at her brother's side.
The soldiers certainly were excited. The first to reach his horse was obviously the leader of the troop. He
wore a shining, ornately trimmed helmet and a glittering coat of chain mail while the others wore
metal-trimmed, hardened leather breastplates. He jerked the reins before he had his right foot set in the
stirrup. His mount shied and the rider slid sideways in the saddle. The other rushing men, the sidling horses,
and an off-balance rider threw the leader's mount into a panic. He bucked and turned, blocking the next two
riders as they tried to pass him.
Trap and Ripple watched, fascinated. As the horse sidled back and forth, the leader's armor sparkled in
the sun and reflected small sunbeams onto the road and into the deep shade of the forest. The kender were
so busy enjoying the show that they missed seeing the archers who had eschewed their mounts and crept
nearer using the bushes for cover. Both kender forgot the struggling rider when an arrow whizzed by Trap's
shoulder.
"That's not friendly!" Ripple gasped, her eyes wide.
"They've made a mistake!" Trap said. Neither he nor his sister had done anything to incur the wrath of the
patrol. Still, the soldiers seemed too intent on shooting them to listen to explanations. He grabbed Ripple's
arm and jerked her away as a shower of arrows arose from the underbrush.
He led the way as they raced a few paces up the road. They would never be able to outrun arrows, so he
jerked Ripple to the right and pulled her into the underbrush close to the side of the road. The showers of
arrows continued. Trap felt a thud as an arrow struck him. He had not even felt the pain. He released Ripple's
hand as he gingerly felt for a wound.
"It hit your bedroll," she told him and led the way into the denser undergrowth.
Behind them they heard pounding hooves and running feet followed by the sound of snapping branches.
Another shower of arrows arced through the forest. The sharp metal points pierced soft bark or ricocheted off
the tough old trunks.
"Up," Trap said as they reached a huge ancient oak and dashed around to the northern side, opposite
their pursuers. At his gesture she cupped her hands and bent her knees. He stepped into the stirrup she
provided and she jerked herself upright as he straightened his knees. Their combined force threw Trap high
enough to grab the lowest limb. He locked his feet around the limb and dropped, his arms extended as he
reached down for Ripple. She swarmed up his body until she stood on the limb. Then she lowered a hand to
pull him up.
Working together, they reached the higher limbs and lay flat while the soldiers beat the bushes below.
Long, breathless minutes passed before the determined searchers moved out of sight, deeper into the forest.
Trap and Ripple climbed down again, dropped from the last limb and worked their way west through the
thick undergrowth that bordered the road. When they were a few hundred yards away from where the soldiers
searched, the two kender crossed the beaten track and entered the woods to the south. Safe for the moment,
they followed a creek until they reached a beaver's dam. They sat on a log to rest, to the indignation of the
beaver who had just cut down the tree.
"I don't understand," Ripple shook her head. "No one could be angry at us."
"They didn't want us. They said 'kender,' " Trap reminded her. "Either they don't like any kender or...."
"That's not possible," Ripple interrupted. The entire race of kender took justifiable pride in being the
friendliest people on Krynn.
"Or ... do you think there might be kender outlaws?"
Neither had ever considered the possibility. They occasionally heard tales, most of which they discounted
as soon as the stories accused kender of "stealing."
Trap and Ripple knew that every other civilized race on Krynn considered kender to be thieves. Their racial
reputation was totally justified, of course, just as it was patently untrue. Kender were not thieves, they were
handlers. Their curiosity and their insatiable desire to poke and pry and touch led them to handle anything
they could pick up. That same curiosity could draw their attention away from what they held. Anxious for
some new experience, they often, and quite unintentionally, tucked the articles into their pouches. The
oversight usually came from a desire to free their hands for something new, and they often found themselves
with items they could not remember acquiring. In a kender city, an oddly shaped rock or piece of glass, knife,
scarf, or dish could have a hundred owners in a busy week. Outside their own lands they had learned to
make up excuses for unexplained possessions.
"I was keeping it for you."
"It must have fallen in my pouch," or
"You must have put it in my pouch by mistake," were three of the most common used to races who did
not understand the kender habit of handling. If the owner of a purloined object wanted it back, the kender
cheerfully returned it.
"What should we do?" Ripple asked, her brow wrinkling in disappointment. "I wanted to see the city."
Trap understood his sister's feelings. They had been born and raised in Legup, a village in the mountains
of Hylo, and like the rest of the Fargo family, as soon as they had reached adulthood they were stricken with
wander-lust and had set out to see the world. They had yet to see a city of humans and dwarves firsthand.
Their great-grandfather had walked east from Legup to Solamnia and south to Kaolyn and Abanasinia.
After the Cataclysm the geography of Krynn had changed, and now an unnamed sea divided Northern Ergoth
and Hylo from Solamnia and its political and geographical neighbors to the south and east.
Trap and Ripple had left the port of Hylo by ship, intending to travel across the channel to one of the port
towns in Solamnia. A sudden storm had blown the ship south. The wind screamed through the sails and the
sea men dangled from the masts and spars in an attempt to trim the sails. The kender found the trip exciting,
but as the storm blew itself out they grew bored. At the first opportunity they asked to be put ashore. The
captain was glad to do so after he lost his favorite knife, a carved and silver chased inkwell and several maps.
He had not even waited until they reached a port.
He dropped them on a deserted beach. Without knowing their starting point, they had three choices. They
could go north or south, with no idea how far they were from the ports shown on the map, or they could strike
inland. They were on the western shore of the continent, so most of the cities would be to the east. A day
later they found a high road that angled in a northeasterly direction. Correctly guessing it led to a city, they
followed it until the soldiers attacked.
"I know," Ripple brightened, slipped her pack off her shoulders and rummaged in the depths. "We'll
change clothes so the soldiers won't recognize us, and we'll wear these," she pulled out two crumpled hats
with tall crowns and floppy brims.
"You're determined to take a bath and change clothes," Trap laughed, though he had no objection. It had
taken them five days to amble the sixty miles from the shore to their present location. They had stopped
frequently, inspecting the local flora, animals and anything else that interested them. The afternoons had
been hot and his skin was sticky with sweat.
An hour and a half later, Trap stood with his feet wide apart and his hands braced on his knees as he
leaned forward. Strands of his long, dark brown hair, freshly washed and nearly dry, moved in the light breeze.
His sister caught it and twisted it into a smooth roll, then she expertly flipped it into a loop close to his head.
Using one slim finger, she pulled the coil through the loop. With a gentle jerk, strong enough to set the hair,
but not hard enough to cause Trap any pain, she tightened the top knot.
Many kender used thongs, cords, metal rings and other devices to manage their long hair, and in Hylo
some cut it short to be rid of the bother. The Fargo family had always adhered to the ancient custom of the
actual knot at the exact center of the crown. When Trap stood, the ends fell just to the nape of his neck.
Ripple leaned forward and he tied her much longer hair. Then he caught up the blond ponytail and flipped it
around his finger. When he let it go it fell in one shining curl that reached her waist. But no one would be
seeing that thick, shining tress for a while. She leaned sideways, caught it in the crown of the hat and seated
the headgear firmly on her head, hiding both the topknot and her pointed ears.
The hats had been a parting gift from their uncle, Skipout Fargo, and he had given them cryptic
instructions to go with the headgear. Obeying the advice of Uncle Skipout, Trapspringer wrapped his bedding
around the forked end of his hoopak and attached his pack to it. Ripple did the same with her whippik. When
they were finished, Trap surveyed the result and shook his head.
"Gee, we don't look like ourselves," he complained when they were ready. With their top knots and ears
hidden and their weapons camouflaged, they resembled slender twelve-year-old human children.
"I think it's what Uncle Skipout intended," Ripple said.
"I can't think why." Trapspringer murmured with a frown, but when an idea struck him his face lit with a
smile. "Maybe humans like kender to look like them."
"I see, we're doing it to be friendly! I like that," Ripple said, nodding her approval. "Remember what father
said."
As she took a step away from the log a low branch nearly dislodged her hat. She leaned her whippik
against the tree, readjusted her headgear, and as she reached for her camouflaged weapon, noticed a small,
interesting flower: a pink puff on a short stem.
"What did father say?" asked Trapspringer, who had been gazing into the bushes where a rustle had given
evidence of a hiding animal. He decided he had been mistaken and had picked up the thread of the
conversation.
"It's very pretty."
"Father said your hat was pretty?"
Ripple looked from the flower to her brother and said, "Did he ever see my hat?"
Brother and sister exchanged smiles and shouldered their weapons and packs. The typical kender
conversation flowed along a serpentine course with eddies of unrelated but interesting sidelights. To a human,
the entire point of the conversation would be quickly lost, but since the kender seldom wanted to make any
point they were usually satisfied.
"I hope the soldiers aren't mad at us anymore," Ripple said as she stepped over a log.
"They made a mistake, and when they realize it they'll be sorry," Trapspringer said. "We shouldn't be
angry about it, it could happen to anyone. I know they'll apologize, but right now, I think we should keep to
the woods as long as we can."
Walking through the forest was more pleasant than traveling the dusty road. Spring was well underway, it
being the beginning of the month of Flower-field in the kender language, Fluer-green in Solamnic. The trees
had been in full leaf for less than a fortnight. The day was lazily warm so they enjoyed the shade. Busy
insects buzzed through the shadows and into the dappled sun-light where their wings glowed in the bright
beams.
The forest stretched east another two miles. When they reached the road again they saw no sign of the
patrol, so they continued until they stood looking at the walled city. The ship captain's map that had
mysteriously appeared among Trapspringer's belongings had listed the name of the city as Lytburg.
"What do you think?" Trap asked his sister.
Above the outer defenses, bristling with battlements and bartizans, they could see the towers of the keep,
set far inside the city's fortifications.
"It looks as if they're expecting trouble," Ripple said, undaunted by the prospect of danger. "It looks
interesting."
"Interesting" was the rallying cry for the entire race of kender, who would rather face death than boredom,
so they continued up the road.
As they drew closer to the bridge at the gates of the city, they noticed a deep trench that ran along the
outside of the city's walled defenses. Abatis lined the ditch. The bark of the securely anchored, up-thrust logs
and strong tree branches had grayed with age. The pointed ends showed blackened tips, suggesting they
had been hardened with fire. Below the black char the pale, freshly cut wood indicated that the points had
been recently sharpened to cut away the rot.
A stone bridge with sturdy stone railings limited the access to the gate. Several farmers' carts were drawn
up as close to the left railing as possible. The drivers waited for the gate guards to inspect their cargo. The
wide sharp tips of the city's military weaponry gleamed as if newly sharpened. The soldiers roughly shoved
one of the farmers about. They demanded to know the farmer's business and poked at the baskets of
potatoes and cabbages in his simple cart.
"The guards look busy," Ripple said as they approached the end of the bridge.
"They're important to the city," Trap replied. "We shouldn't take up their valuable time."
Ahead, a guard ordered the arriving cart to pull to the left. The vehicle was unwieldy, piled high with hay.
The mules objected to the wall and the soldier kept shouting at the driver. When the wagon finally stopped,
the guard reached up and grabbed the arm of the farmer, hauling him off the seat.
The two kender had been about to skirt the cart and cross the bridge, but just then a troop of soldiers
came through the gate, leaving the city. The leader shouted at the guards and the farmers to make way as he
urged his horse forward. Behind him the troop, riding two abreast, were shoving the farmers and the guards up
against the carts.
Trap and Ripple ducked back behind the last cart and he climbed up on the left bridge railing to get out
from underfoot. The stone facing had once risen to a knife-sharp angle, but age had rounded it. Kender in
general had excellent balance, particularly the Fargo family.
"We can just walk along this railing to the gate," Trap said, leading the way. "The guards will be grateful to
us for not bothering them, and we won't get in the way of the horses and wagons."
The two kender walked along the railing behind the carts, entered the city unnoticed, and strolled down a
busy street. The locals, mostly human and dwarf, hurried in both directions on unknown errands.
Occasionally they saw an elf, but they had not seen any of their own people. The height of the humans'
shoulders were well above the heads of the kender, so their view was limited to the buildings they passed.
Two and three story half-timbered buildings, most with cantilevered second floors, shaded the pavement
and the smell of mustiness mingled with the odor of bodies.
Their diminutive height had kept them from seeing what lay ahead. Then, through a break in the crowd,
they saw a sunlit open square and caught a glimpse of awnings over rough stalls.
"Wow, it's Shadow Day," Ripple said with delight.
"Call it Bracha here," Trap reminded his sister. Whether they used the kinder or the Solamnic name, it did
seem to be the seventh day of the week, market day.
They increased their pace and in minutes they reached the open square. There they slowed, stopping
occasion-ally to look at the displayed merchandise. Everything in the world seemed to be on sale in the
square. They saw pigs and horses, furs and vegetables, hoes and plows, wagons and fowls roasting on spits.
Bolts of silks, wool and velvet lay cheek by jowl with cured leather.
Farmers in homespun clothing, with the mud of their fields still on their boots, rubbed shoulders with the
city dwellers, some in filthy rags, some in clean, well darned clothing, some in silks and velvets. Hawkers
carried trays and baskets supported by leather straps or ropes around their necks or over their shoulders.
They shouted over the noise of the crowd as they announced their wares. Calls of "Roasted Nuts!" "Meat
rolls!" and "Melon slices!" rang over the arguing, bargaining, shouted greetings and laughter of the shoppers.
Further on they discovered a traveling baker's stall and behind it an oven made of iron sheets cleverly fitted
together. It could be taken apart in minutes. Trap stopped to consider the oven, wondering if it was of dwarven
design. Ripple continued down the row of stalls.
Trap picked up a still warm loaf, inspecting the crust to see if it was to his liking. Across the way a
shouting match broke out between two would-be buyers for the same pig. The kender hurried over to see if
there would be a fight, but the seller, a narrow faced little man with a twitching nose, decided he had
undervalued the pig. He upped the price and the two bearded, roughly dressed farmers suddenly allied
against him.
When the shoppers stomped away, Trap lost interest and wandered on down the stalls. He forgot he was
still holding the bread until he caught up with Ripple. She spotted the loaf, too large for Trap to eat alone, and
asked if he planned on sharing it with her. He looked down at the bread in surprise and she understood his
expression.
"You forgot to pay for it," she observed, knowing her brother was all kender. They had promised their
parents they would be careful to pay for whatever they took, and their pouches were bulging with steel pieces.
"I went to see a fight," Trap explained his possession of the bread. He promised himself he would return
and pay for it, but at the moment there was so much to see. He would pay the baker when they returned up
the row of stalls.
"We really should eat it while it's still warm," he said as he tore the loaf in half and handed Ripple her
share. He was just going to take a bite when he saw two human children hungrily eyeing the food. Trap broke
off two pieces, giving each a warm, crusty hunk.
Ripple had walked on ahead again and stopped at a jeweler's stall to admire a bracelet of gold set with
blue stones. The owner of the stall, a dwarf with a magnificent black beard streaked with gray, was in the
middle of a bargaining session with a portly, well dressed human. Three young boys came racing through the
crowded stalls, scuffling and pushing each other playfully. Two, wrestling each other as they ran, knocked
into the right support of the dwarf's stall. The temporary shelter swayed. The pegged display board, raised to
a steep angle to better show the glittering wares, was in danger of toppling. The dwarf caught it and pulled it
back into place. He was not in time to keep two necklaces and a wide gold bracelet from falling to the
ground.
Ripple knelt and picked up the jewelry. She was rising, reaching to put them back on the display board
when a female shopper passed, oblivious to the problems of the jeweler. The woman was carrying a wide
basket on her arm, and it brushed against Ripple's hat, knocking it off.
The dwarf had seemed happy enough to have Ripple's assistance, but when he saw the topknot and
pointed ears, he roared and ducked under the display.
"Thief! Kender thief!" he roared and pushed past the portly customer as he reached out, grabbing Ripple's
arm.
Chapter 3
When the dwarf shouted thief, Ripple was still half crouched. She looked around, trying to spot the
criminal as she picked up her hat. She had not realized the dwarf glared accusingly at her, but Trap saw the
direction of the stall owner's attention.
"That's not nice! She's picking them up for you," he explained, but the dwarf shook his fist at Trap before
racing around the far open end of the stall. The jeweler's attention was all on Ripple as he pushed by Trap and
made a dash for the kender girl.
Trap leaped forward. In a flash his hoopak was in his left hand. He thrust the steel pointed end between
the jeweler's feet. With his right, he grabbed Ripple's arm and jerked her away just in time to keep the dwarf
from falling on her. The dwarf hit the ground with a thud and a curse.
Ripple was stunned by the accusation, and was still holding out the jewelry she had picked up when the
portly customer took up the shout.
"Kender thieves, robbing honest folk," he shouted and made a grab for the two necklaces Ripple held.
"Thieves! Thieves! Call the watch!" As he turned to alert the crowd, Trap saw him tuck the two necklaces
inside his gold-trimmed sleeve.
"I saw what you did!" Trap yelled at the human. "You're stealing! You're a thief!"
Trap knew little about humans, but he did suspect a rich townsman would be believed before a stranger.
They could flee or find themselves in the city dungeons. He gave Ripple a shove toward the narrow space
between the jeweler's stall and the one beside it where iron kettles and pans were on display.
Ripple had been shocked by the accusation, but her quick wits rivaled her bother's. When the tinker tried
to grab her she struck him on the head with her whippik before dashing through the narrow opening. Trap
followed on her heels. He had just passed the staggering tinker's table when the man stepped into one of his
own pots and fell on his own display. The table legs collapsed, throwing the kettles under the feet of two burly
men who were leading the chase after the kender.
Trap and Ripple dodged out into a space between the back of the stalls, a place the shoppers seldom
saw. They dodged around bundles and baskets of merchandise that waited for display room in the crowded
stalls. Behind them they heard the call of "Kender thieves!" as it passed throughout the market square. As
they ran they pulled their packs from their weapons and slipped their arms through the straps.
They fled down the deserted row and wriggled their way through a narrow space into the next market isle,
but the alarm had traveled through the square. They had not taken two steps before a tall, bearded man
grabbed Trap's arm. He let go when Ripple poked him in the stomach with the end of her whippik.
They danced down the isle, skipping away from reaching hands. They tripped two more people and swung
their weapons toward the others, keeping them at bay.
At the end of the isle a dark, narrow mean street led out of the market and Ripple dashed into its relative
protection. At least they could not be grabbed by reaching hands on every side. They still had a large group
of irate shop-keepers and townsmen on their trail. They ran down the street, turned onto another at random
and then into a narrow alley.
Trap's hope for escape sank as he saw a rickety shelter blocking the alley, but then he noticed a narrow
space between it and the building on the right. Ripple, running ahead of him, had seen it too and wriggled into
the space with her brother right behind her.
They slipped through to the other side and Trap was slowing his pace when he heard shouting behind him.
He looked back and through the narrow crack he could see the first of their pursuers trying to stop. The
momentum of the crowd behind the leaders of the chase shoved them forward, against the shabby lean-to.
The rickety structure collapsed with a crash. As the kender ran on they heard the sound of humans in pain
and others swearing in their anger.
Trap increased his speed again and a few steps further he saw two pair of eyes staring out of the
dimness. He had not thought the alley dark enough for anyone to hide in it. As he drew even with them, he
recognized two gully dwarves. As if to prove the reputation of their race, these two were so grimy their
clothing, hands, and faces had blended with the dark gray stone.
One of them had been rolling a wagon wheel toward the little lean-to, but with a quick move he sent it
careening in the other direction, and chased after it.
The Aghar rolling the rickety wheel was in the lead. He was taller and had darker hair. The second,
smaller, thinner, and with blond hair, ran in his wake. They had turned so quickly Trap had little time to notice
their features, but even in the semi darkness he could tell the smaller gully dwarf was younger than the other.
Like kender, the Aghar developed facial wrinkles early in life. The smaller gully had no wrinkles.
The gully dwarves were only two paces in front of Ripple when they reached what Trap thought was a dead
end, but they whirled around a corner. The gully dwarf with the wheel gave it a practiced turn to change
direction and the kender followed. Behind them they could hear running feet again so they put their trust in
the gully dwarves.
After a series of turns, all into alleys that became increasingly narrow, dark, and dirty, they saw what had
to be the end of the chase. The dirty little gully dwarves still had one trick left. They whirled around a huge
pile of rubbish and disappeared. Still trusting the gully dwarves' sense of survival-it was said that was the only
sense they had, including the sense of smell-Ripple followed them.
Trap heard Ripple squeal in surprise. Her brother, following, tripped over a low stone that could have been
a door step, and fell into darkness. The darkness hid a smooth, descending ramp and he tumbled down a
steep, dark chute.
He rolled to a stop with something moderately soft under his legs and his mouth full of hair-he had at least
found Ripple. The soft thing under his legs complained and he discovered by touch and smell that it was a
gully dwarf. When he tried to sit up, he found that his left leg was caught up in the spokes of the dwarves'
wagon wheel.
Far above they heard voices that echoed off the walls. The humans had followed them.
"Don't worry about them," one voice, louder than the others remarked. "They'll never get out of there,
they're done for."
The four at the bottom of the strange shaft remained still until the echoing footsteps faded away. Then,
after a few aborted attempts that resulted in feet in faces, elbows in stomachs, and fingers in eyes, the two
kender and the two gully dwarves sorted themselves out. They discovered that their landing place had a
ceiling high enough so they could stand up.
"What happen?" asked one of the gully dwarves.
"We run away," the other said.
"From what?"
"Don't know."
"You want torch?"
"Why? Got no light."
"I've got a tinderbox," Trap said.
"Who that?" one of the gully dwarves exclaimed.
"Kender, I think," the dwarf's companion offered. "Never seen one before."
"You've got a torch and I've got a light, so you can see one again," Trap suggested.
"You can see two," Ripple added. "Though why you've never seen kender before, I can't imagine."
After a considerable amount of fumbling (during which Ripple had to slap someone) fingers caught the
hand Trap was holding tinderbox with and guided it to the torch. More fumbling followed before he lit what
turned out to be a musty bundle of already half-burned rags around a broken mop handle. Once the first torch
was lit, they were able to find a second, and light it too. The two kender and the two gully dwarves stood
quietly, inspecting each other.
Trap decided his first estimate was correct. The tallest, with the beginning of facial wrinkles, was the
eldest. The wrinkles were easy to see, being filled with grime. His hair was dark, probably dark brown, but
overlaid with dirt that lightened it slightly. The smaller dwarf had no wrinkles, but was no less dirty. Their hair
was approximately the same color, but the subtle difference of dark hair lightened by dirt and light hair
darkened by dirt, led Trap and Ripple to believe that the younger dwarf was originally blond.
The gully dwarves were dressed in ragged cast-offs that had once been human clothing. Their trouser legs
and sleeves had been carelessly rolled into bulky cuffs. During the run the smaller dwarf's right pants leg had
unrolled and fallen down over his boot so he was walking on the bottom portion of the trouser leg.
Finished with his inspection of the Aghar, Trap considered their surroundings. They were in a passage,
rock lined and arched. A few feet from where Trap stood, an empty sconce showed where one of the dwarves
had found the torch.
Ripple blinked against the light and walked to the bottom of the steeply canted chute that had dumped
them more than a hundred feet below street level. She tried three times to climb it, but the bottom was slick.
It was marginally too wide and high for a kender or a gully dwarf to reach the sides or ceiling. They could not
brace themselves to climb.
"Beans!" she said as she slid back a third time. "We'll have to find another way out."
"Could have told them," the first dwarf said.
"Me too," said the second.
"Hello," Trap was already growing tired of the dwarves conversation that excluded the kender. "I'm
Trapspringer Fargo. This is my sister Ripple."
"His name Trapspringer," the taller dwarf said.
"She Ripple. She pretty," the other replied.
"Thank you. That's very nice. What's your name?" Ripple asked. The compliment had made her forget her
irritation.
The larger of the two seemed to draw himself up. "Me Umpth Aglest. Me leader mighty Aglest clan."
"You have a clan?" Ripple asked. "Can they help us? Maybe they could drop a rope down the chute."
"That's a good idea," Trap nodded.
"No. Clan here," Umpth pointed at his companion. "Grod Aglest, brother. Him clan."
Trap looked around, peering up and down the passage as far as he could see in the light of the sputtering
torch.
"Which way?" he asked of no one in particular. Umpth immediately pointed to the right and Grod to the
left. They exchanged glances and both pointed in opposite directions. Since Ripple had not expressed an
opinion, Trap set off to the left, with his sister close to his side. Behind him came the dwarves. Umpth rolled
the wagon wheel. "Kender smart," Umpth observed. "Me point this way."
"Me too," Grod said.
"What is this place?" Ripple asked.
"This no This Place," Umpth answered. "No live here."
"I know you don't live here, I just thought you might know about this place."
"No This Place," Umpth said again. "Not know what place this is."
"Kender don't talk good," Grod said.
"Don't know This Place from any place," came the reply.
"Do they make any sense to you?" Ripple asked Trap. She spoke softly, not wanting to hurt the feelings
of the gully dwarves.
"It's hard to tell," Trap replied. "I hear words I think I know, but they're not strung together right."
"Kender have big words, no sense," Umpth observed.
"Keep eye on him," Grod suggested. "Me watch her. She pretty." He reached out to touch the single long
golden curl that had fallen over Ripple's left shoulder, but she stepped back, away from his grimy hands.
As they walked along the passage, they occasionally saw old torches in the wall sconces. Ripple
inspected them, taking the first three that were at all usable. When she found more she gave Grod three to
carry. They had been walking for half an hour when they found a set of steps going up about thirty feet. At the
top was a door with a heavy lock.
The dwarves ascended the stairway behind them, but were having a hard time rolling the wagon wheel up
the steps.
"Why did you bring that wheel?" Ripple asked, looking back at the struggling dwarves. "It's no good. Half
the spokes are gone. The rim is loose too."
"Wheel magic," Umpth said. "Aglest clan magic."
"Wow! Really? Big jiggies!" Trap asked, suddenly interested. "How can a wheel be magic?"
"Belong to ancestor. All left of wagon bring Aglest clan to This Place. Ancestor magic strong."
"I've never heard of a magic wheel," Trap said, not sure he believed it, but at the first opportunity he wanted
to see what the wheel would do.
"See, no sense," Grod said. "Not know This Place, not know magic, no sense."
"Don't be rude!" Trap said with a dark look over his shoulder. In his irritation he forgot his interest in the
wheel.
While Ripple held the torch, Trap pulled out the set of lock picks his father had given him as a traveling
present. After a few pokes and twists the lock clicked. Trap pushed the door open to the squeal of rusty
hinges and a shower of crusted dirt and small stones fell way. Obviously it had not been opened for many
years.
They found themselves in another passage. This one was already lit with torches, dry and swept clean,
though a few cobwebs decorated the arched ceiling. The air was reasonably fresh, kept so by the burning
torches, and from a distance they heard voices. Ripple put out the light she carried by the simple expedient
of rolling it on the floor until the flames died. The four wanderers crept down the hall as quietly as the rolling
wagon wheel would allow.
The voices became louder as the foursome reached a doorway at the end of the passage. The thick heavy
door stood ajar, and Trap looked in to see a huge chamber, one unlike anything in his experience. Shelves of
books in red bindings lined the wall on the far side of the chamber. At the end of the room more shelves held
hundreds of glass jars containing strange and wonderful objects. Old but still colorful rugs overlapped each
other on the stone floor. In the center of the room, a litter of books, scrolls, and strange paraphernalia covered
four tables.
A human in red robes stood on one side of the room. He pressed his elbows tight to his sides and bent
his arms so his hands, palms up, were close to his shoulders. From each palm came a pale, glowing light.
He was humming a soft, even tone. The glow from his hand rose to form an arc of light above the man's head.
Behind him stood what Trap thought was a child in a red robe. The girl played a lute, stroking the same note
the man hummed. Their tune could get boring very quickly, so Trap thought the two humans might enjoy
learning more about music.
"That's very boring," he called across the room. "If you like, I'll show you how to make-" He intended to
offer his help, but he had startled the small one, who jumped and struck a sudden loud, discordant note. The
man's voice rose in the same discordant note and suddenly the arc of light changed, disappeared, and a
blackness deeper than velvet opened around the red-robed human. He stepped back with a cry as a hot wind,
strong as a gale, blew through the hole.
The torches blew out and a variety of objects, impossible to see in the sudden darkness, were hurled
about by the gale. A piece of cloth hit Trap in the face and as he jerked it away an unknown object struck him
sharply on the shoulder.
"Orander!" a voice called out in fear.
"Halmarain," a man's voice called back. "Stay away from the portal!"
"A portal? What is a portal?" Trap asked the room at large. "Is it a magic door, does it lead to some
interesting place?"
No one answered him, but he heard what he thought was a cry and a whimper, though he could not
positively identify the sound. Suddenly the chamber filled with a roar that had nothing to do with the hot wind.
Dimly, over the roar, he heard a thin scream that could have been human or kender, and he wondered if
Ripple had entered the chamber.
He heard the sound of splitting wood and the thud of heavy furniture hitting the wall. Suddenly Trap was
grabbed by a huge, clawed hand. His feet dragged against an opening as he was pulled through some
unseen door. It seemed to be the meeting place of the gale, where the winds were blowing in both directions.
Chapter 4
When the giant clawed hand pulled Trap through the portal to the other plane, the kender found himself in
deep twilight. The air was so hot he could hardly breathe. He saw two huge eyes looking at him out of a
giant, bestial face.
"Hello," he said softly. "I don't know if you know about kender, but we're really very friendly. We enjoy
adventures and seeing new places-Oh! You have a very large mouth!"
摘要：

DixieLeeMcKeoneTalesofUncleTrapspringerThisisastoryaboutmyUncleTrapspringer.Itseemsthatalong,longtimeago...Chapter1InthegreatlibraryofPalanthus,Astinus,thechroniclerofthehistoryofKrynn,wasrecordingimportanteventsonAnsalon....Thelobowolfpeeredthroughthebrush,hisyelloweyesseekingenemiesandprey,hissens...

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