Downfall

"Ye'd be right." The sack disappeared in the folds of the robe. "Ye wouldn't've been a decade ago, when I had me more money and more respect, and I had some righteousness about me, too, and a good dose of morals. But I figure now I haven't got me that many more years left, and so I could use the means to enjoy them." He raised the tankard to Dhamon in a toast.

"The sword…" Dhamon prompted.

"It be called Redeemer. Be ye lookin' for it ‘cause ye need to be redeemed?"

Dhamon shook his head, his eyes never leaving the old man's face.

"It was laid to rest with Tanis Half-Elven-after he was brutally slain. Skewered in the back, according to the story I heard, an ignoble way for a noble man to die. Buried with him, hands placed around the pommel. The story says." Caladar shuddered. "If the gods hadn't abandoned Krynn they would've watched over Tanis's body, wouldn't've let some common thief…"

"Shhhh!" Dhamon drew a finger over his lips, as the old man's voice had been rising.

Caladar wrapped both hands around the tankard and shakily raised it to his thin lips. He took several big gulps, then carefully set it back on the table and wiped his lips on his shoulder.

"Old man…"

"Caladar," he corrected. "Caladar, Sage of Kortal."

"Aye, Caladar. This sword…"

"Ye should have known me in my younger days. Hah! Even as recent as a decade ago, I was truly a great sage. A wise man people came to see for miles and miles around, askin' advice, hearin' the old tales, learnin' of Krynn's ancient secrets. My mind was so keen that…" His words trailed off to note Dhamon's fingers drumming on the pitted tabletop.

Caladar edged the tankard toward the center of the table, and Dhamon refilled it, scowling slightly to note that this second jug was now empty. He motioned for a serving girl and plunked two steel pieces in her palm. Another, he motioned. How could that old man drink so much and still stay alert? Dhamon himself had finished only two tankards of his own, and felt a little sluggish because of it.

"Redeemer," Caladar stated, eyes smiling as he watched the young woman return with another jug.

"Aye, Redeemer."

"Also called Wyrmsbane." Caladar took another pull from the tankard, and his words faltered. "Elven made and elven enchanted. Elven script along the blade. The significance of that? That'd be your guess?" He shrugged. "Crosspiece in the form of a bird. Odd, considerin' it was supposedly forged to fight dragons and their kin. Ye would think it would have the likeness of a dragon on it. Maybe its maker just favored fowl." He paused and chuckled, leaned back in the chair and scowled when Dhamon glared at him impatiently. "Against scaly folk it is a shockin' thing to behold, Redeemer-or so the tales say. Tanis supposedly slew many draconians with it, the blade inflictin' grievous wounds quickly and with frightenin' accuracy. Scaly folk cannot harm the blade, or so…"

"… the tales say," Dhamon finished.

The old man nodded. "Not that they couldn't harm the sword's wielder." He giggled, a thin cackling laugh that raised the hackles on Dhamon's neck.

"There's more…" Dhamon pressed. He reached for the man's tankard again, but Caladar waved off a refill.

"I intend to take that jug home with me," he stated. "And if I drink me another drop now, I won't be finishin' my tale or findin' me way to bed."

Dhamon softly drummed on the table top and again fixed his eyes on the old man's.

"Yes, there is more. Or so the tales say. Redeemer, though not as strongly enchanted as its sister sword, was magicked with the ability to find things." The thin cackle again. "Perhaps Tanis was a might forgetful and needed the sword to tell him where he put his boots when he took them off at night. But I think not."

Dhamon drummed a little louder.

"Redeemer can find things, somehow. Was said to find as many things in a day as there were moons in the sky- which was three when the blade was forged by the Sil-vanesti. But mind ye it was also said not to function all of the time. Perhaps only when it wanted to. Perhaps it could only find things nearby, within the distance of the magic. Or perhaps it would only work for certain individuals. A legendary sword such as that must surely have some rules of its own. Or maybe it has a will of its own."

Dhamon glanced at the entrance as a few patrons left, slamming the tavern door shut. The barkeep was cleaning up, getting ready to close. "These things you speak of? Material goods?"

"Wealth?"

Dhamon nodded.

"Probably."

"Intangibles?"