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.
One of the kender, taller than the others and dressed in
a brown robe with the hood clipped off, smiled back. "Good
morning. Where are we?"
"You're in Goodlund, halfway to Sarem if you started
from just west of Kendermore." Graym snatched a forked
stick from the hands of the tall kender - who didn't seem to
mind - and hung his pack from it, lifted it over his head.
"Where are you going?"
"Oh, around." The tall kender took a forked stick from
one of the others, who didn't seem to mind either. "East,
mostly." He spun the stick, making a loud whistle. "Do you
know, the gods told me that the world's greatest disaster
would happen in a land to the west? Only it didn't."
"What are you talking about?" Graym looked openly
astonished. 'The Catcollision?"
"Cataclysm!" Darll snarled.
"Cataclysm, thank you, sir. I keep forgetting." Graym
turned back to the kender. "All that happened in the east,
you know."
"I know," the kender said, and sighed. "The gods lied to
me. They did it to save our lives - we were going west to
see the run - but still, a lie's a lie." He fingered the torn
collar of his cleric's robe. "So we don't believe in the gods
anymore."
"Good enough," Graym said, brightening. "Smashed the
world, didn't they? We're well rid of that lot."
"But they did save our lives," Fenris pointed out.
"From horrible deaths," Fanris added, "like being
smashed."
"Or squished, Fan."
The tall kender shrugged. "You miss a lot, worrying
about things like that
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