Dragons Of Winter Night Part 3

"I am not jealous," Tanis retorted, flus.h.i.+ng. "I told you in Qualinesti that what was between us when we were younger is over now. I-" He paused, wondering if that were true. Even as he spoke, his soul trembled at her beauty. Yes, that youthful infatuation was gone, but was it being replaced by something else, something stronger and more enduring? And was he losing it? Had he already lost it, through his own in-decisiveness and stubbornness? He was acting typically human, the half-elf thought. Refusing that which was in easy reach, only to cry for it when it was gone. He shook his head in confusion.

"If you're not jealous, then why don't you leave me alone and let me continue my work for Elistan in peace?" Laurana asked coldly "You-"

"Hus.h.!.+" Tanis held up his hand. Laurana, annoyed, started to talk, but Tanis glared at her so fiercely, she fell silent.

Tanis listened. Yes, he'd been right. He could hear clearly now the shrill, high-pitched, screaming whine of the leather sling on the end of Tas's hoopak staff. It was a peculiar sound, produced by the kender swinging the sling in a circle over his head, and it raised the hair on the back of the neck. It was also a kender signal for danger.

"Trouble," Tanis said softly. "Get the others." Taking one look at his grim face, Laurana obeyed without question. Tanis turned abruptly to face the innkeeper, who was sidling around the desk. "Where are you going?" he asked sharply.

"Just leaving to check your rooms, sir," the innkeeper said smoothly, and he vanished precipitously into the kitchen. Just then, Ta.s.slehoff burst through the door of the inn.

"Guards, Tanis! Guards! Coming this way!"

"Surely they can't be here because of us," Tanis said. He stopped, eyeing the light-fingered kender, struck by a sudden thought. "Tas-"

"It wasn't me, honest!" Tas protested. "I never even reached the marketplace! I just got to the bottom of the street when I saw a whole troop of guards coming this direction."

"What's this about guards?" Sturm asked as he entered from the common room. "Is this one of the kender's stories?"

"No. Listen," Tanis said. Everyone hushed. They could hear the tramp of booted feet coming their direction and glanced at each other in apprehension and concern. "The innkeeper's disappeared. I thought we got into the city a bit too easily. I should have expected trouble." Tanis scratched his beard, well aware that everyone was looking to him for orders.

"Laurana, you and Elistan go upstairs. Sturm, you and Gilthanas remain with me. The rest of you go to your rooms. Riverwind, you're in command. You, Caramon, and Raistlin protect them. Use your magic, Raistlin, if necessary. Flint-"

"I'm staying with you," the dwarf stated firmly.

Tanis smiled and put his hand on Flint's shoulder. "Of course, old friend. I didn't even think you needed telling."

Grinning, Flint pulled his battle-axe out of its holder on his back. "Take this," he said to Caramon. "Better you have it than any scurvy, lice-ridden city guards."

"That's a good idea," Tanis said. Unbuckling his swordbelt, he handed Caramon Wyrmslayer the magical sword given to him by the skeleton of Kith-Kanan, the Elven King.

Gilthanas silently handed over his sword and his elven bow.

"Yours, too, knight," Caramon said, holding out his hand.

Sturm frowned. His antique, two-handed sword and its scabbard were the only legacy he had left of his father, a great Knight of Solamnia, who had vanished after sending his wife and young son into exile. Slowly Sturm unbuckled his swordbelt and handed it to Caramon.

The jovial warrior, seeing the knight's obvious concern, grew serious. "I'll guard it carefully, you know that, Sturm."

"I know," Sturm said, smiling sadly. He glanced up at Raistlin, who was standing on the stairs. "Besides, there is always the great worm, Catyrpelius, to protect it, isn't there, mage?"

Raistlin started at this unexpected reminder of a time in the burned-out city of Solace when he had tricked some hobgoblins into believing Sturm's sword was cursed. It was the closest to an expression of grat.i.tude that the knight had ever made to the mage. Raistlin smiled briefly.

"Yes," he whispered. "There is always the Worm. Do not fear, knight. Your weapon is safe, as are the lives of those you leave in our care...if any are safe.... Farewell, my friends," he hissed, his strange, hourgla.s.s eyes gleaming. "And a long farewell it will be. Some of us are not destined to meet again in this world!" With that, he bowed and, gathering his red robes around him, began to climb the stairs.

Trust Raistlin to exit with a flourish, Tanis thought irritably, hearing booted feet near the door. "Go on!" he ordered. "If he's right, there's nothing we can do about it now."

After a hesitant look at Tanis, the others did as he ordered, climbing the stairs quickly. Only Laurana cast a fearful glance back at Tanis as Elistan took her arm. Caramon, sword drawn, waited behind until the last was past.

"Don't worry," the big warrior said uneasily. "We'll be all right. If you're not back by night-fall-"

"Don't come looking for us!" Tanis said, guessing Caramon's intention. The half-elf was more disturbed than he cared to admit by Raistlin's ominous statement. He had known the mage many years and had seen his power grow, even as the shadows seemed to gather more thickly around him. "If we're not back, get Elistan, Goldmoon, and the others back to Southgate."

Caramon nodded reluctantly, then he walked ponderously up the stairs, his weapons clanking around him.

"It's probably just a routine check," Sturm said hurriedly in a low voice as the guards could be seen through the window now. "They'll ask us a few questions, then release us. But they've undoubtedly got a description of all all of us!" of us!"

"I have a feeling it isn't routine. Not the way everyone's vanished. And they're going to have to settle for some of us," Tanis said softly as the guards entered the door, led by the constable and accompanied by he guard from the wall.

"That's them!" the guard cried, pointing. "There's the knight, like I told you. And the bearded elf, the dwarf, and the kender, and an elflord."

"Right," the constable said briskly. "Now, where are the others?" At his gesture, his guards leveled their hauberks, pointing them at the companions.

"I don't understand what all this is about," Tanis said mildly. "We are strangers in Tarsis, simply pa.s.sing through on our way south. Is this how you welcome strangers to your city?"

"We don't welcome strangers to our city," the constable replied. His gaze s.h.i.+fted to Sturm and he sneered. "Especially a Knight of Solamnia. If you're innocent as you say you are, you won't mind answering some questions from the Lord and his council. Where's the rest of your party?"

"My friends are tired and have gone to their rooms to rest. Our journey has been long and tiring. But we do not want to cause trouble. The four of us will come with you and answer your questions. ('Five,' said Ta.s.slehoff indignantly, but everyone ignored him.) There is no need to disturb our companions."

"Go get the others," the constable ordered his men.

Two guards headed for the stairs, which suddenly burst into flame! Smoke billowed into the room, driving the guards back. Everyone ran for the door. Tanis grabbed Ta.s.slehoff, who was staring with wide-eyed interest, and dragged him outside.

The constable was frantically blowing on his whistle, while several of his men prepared to dash off through the streets, raising the alarm. But the flames died as quickly as they had been born.

"Eeep-" The constable choked off his whistle. His face pale, he stepped warily back inside the inn. Tanis, peering over his shoulder, shook his head in awe. There was not a whisper of smoke, not a bit of varnish had so much as peeled. From the top of the stairs, he could hear faintly the sound of Raistlin's voice. As the constable glanced apprehensively up the stairs, the chanting stopped. Tanis swallowed, then drew a deep breath. He knew he must be as pale as the constable, and he glanced at Sturm and Flint. Raistlin's power was growing....

"The magician must be up there," the constable muttered.

"Very good, Birdwhistle, and how long'd it take you to figure that one out-" Tas began in a tone of voice Tanis knew meant trouble. He trod upon the kender's foot, and Tas subsided into silence with a reproachful glance.

Fortunately, the constable didn't appear to have heard. He glared at Sturm. "You'll come with us peacefully?"

"Yes," answered Sturm. "You have my word of honor," the knight added, "and no matter what you may think of the Knights, you know that my honor is my life."

The constable's eyes went to the dark stairway. "Very well," he said finally. "Two of you guards stay here at the stair. The rest cover the other exits. Check anyone coming in and out. You all have the descriptions of the strangers?" The guards nodded, exchanging uneasy glances. The two slated for guard duty inside the inn gave the staircase a frightened look and stood as far from it as possible. Tanis smiled grimly to himself.

The five companions, the kender grinning with excitement, followed the constable out of the building. As they walked into the street, Tanis caught sight of movement at an upstairs window. Looking up, he saw Laurana watching, her face drawn with fear. She raised her hand, he saw her lips form the words, "I'm sorry," in elven. Raistlin's words came to his mind and he felt chilled. His heart ached. The thought that he might never see her again made the world seem suddenly bleak and empty and desolate. He realized what Laurana had come to mean to him in these last few dark months when even hope had died as he saw the evil armies of the Dragon Highlords overrun the land. Her steadfast faith, her courage, her unfailing, undying hope! How different from Kitiara!

The guard poked Tanis in the back. "Face forward! Quit signaling to those friends of yourn!" he snarled. The half-elf's thoughts returned to Kitiara. No, the warrior woman could never have acted so selflessly. She never could have helped the people as Laurana had helped them. Kit would have grown impatient and angry and left them to live or die as they chose. She detested and despised those weaker than herself.

Tanis thought of Kitiara and he thought of Laurana, but he was interested to note that the old painful thrill didn't knot his soul anymore when he said Kitiara's name to himself. No, now it was Laurana-the silly little girl who had been no more than a spoiled and irritating child only months before-who made his blood burn and his hands search for excuses to touch her. And now, perhaps, it was too late.

When he reached the end of the street, he glanced back again, hoping to give her some sort of sign. Let her know he understood. Let her know he'd been a fool. Let her know he- But the curtain was drawn.

5.

The riot. Tas disappears.

Alhana Starbreeze.

Foul knight..."

A rock struck Sturm on the shoulder. The knight flinched, though the stone could have caused him little pain through his armor. Tanis, looking at his pale face and quivering moustache, knew the pain was deeper than a weapon could inflict.

The crowds grew as the companions were marched through the street and word of their coming spread. Sturm walked with dignity, his head held proudly, ignoring the taunts and jeers. Although their guards shoved the crowd back time and again, they did it half-heartedly and the crowd knew it. More rocks were thrown, as were other objects even less pleasant. Soon all of the companions were cut and bleeding and covered with garbage and filth.

Tanis knew Sturm would never stoop to retaliation, not on this rabble, but the half-elf had to keep a firm grip on Flint. Even then, he was in constant fear the angry dwarf would charge past the guards and start breaking heads. But in watching Flint, Tanis had forgotten Ta.s.slehoff.

Besides being quite casual in respect to other people's property, kenders have another unendearing characteristic known as the "taunt." All kenders possess this talent to a greater or lesser degree. It is how their diminutive race has managed to thrive and survive in a world of knights and warriors, trolls and hobgoblins. The taunt is the ability to insult an enemy and work him into such a fever pitch of rage that he loses his head and begins fighting wildly and erratically. Tas was a master at the taunt, though he rarely found a need to use it when traveling with his warrior friends. But Tas decided to take full advantage of this opportunity.

He began to shout insults back.

Too late Tanis realized what was happening. In vain he tried to shut him up. Tas was at the front of the line, the half-elf at the back, and there was no way to gag the kender.

Such insults as "foul knight" and "elven sc.u.m" lacked imagination, Tas felt. He decided to show these people exactly how much range and scope for variety were available in the Common language. Ta.s.slehoff's insults were masterpieces of creativity and ingenuity. Unfortunately, they also tended to be extremely personal and occasionally rather crude, delivered with an air of charming innocence.

"Is that your nose or a disease? Can those fleas crawling on your body do tricks? Was your mother a gully dwarf?" were only the beginning. Matters went rapidly down hill from there.

The guards began eyeing the angry crowd in alarm, while the constable gave the order to hurry the prisoners' march. What he had seen as a victory procession exhibiting trophies of conquest appeared to be disintegrating into a full-scale riot.

"Shut that kender up!" he yelled furiously.

Tanis tried desperately to reach Ta.s.slehoff, but the struggling guards and the surging crowd made it impossible. Gilthanas was knocked off his feet. Sturm bent over the elf, trying to protect him. Flint was kicking and flailing about in a rage. Tanis had just neared Ta.s.slehoff when he was. .h.i.t in the face with a tomato and momentarily blinded.

"Hey, constable, you know what you could do with that whistle? You could-"

Ta.s.slehoff never got a chance to tell the constable what he might do with the whistle, because at that instant a large hand plucked him up out of the center of the melee. A hand clapped itself over Tas's mouth, while two more pairs of hands gripped the kender's wildly kicking feet. A sack was popped over his head, and all Tas saw or smelled from that point on was burlap as he felt himself being carried away.

Tanis, wiping tomato from his stinging eyes, heard the sound of booted feet and more shouts and yells. The crowd hooted and jeered, then broke and ran. When he could finally see again, the half-elf glanced around quickly to make certain everyone was all right. Sturm was helping Gilthanas rise, wiping blood from a cut on the elf's forehead. Flint, swearing fluently, plucked cabbage from his beard.

"Where's that blasted kender!" the dwarf roared. "I'll-" He stopped and stared, turning this way and that. "Where is is that blasted kender? Tas? So help me-" that blasted kender? Tas? So help me-"

"Hus.h.!.+" Tanis ordered, realizing Tas had managed to escape.

Flint turned purple. "Why that little b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he swore. "He was the one got us into this and he left us to-"

"Shhh!" Tanis said, glaring at the dwarf. Flint choked and fell silent. The constable hustled his prisoners into the Hall of Justice. It was only when they were safely inside the ugly brick building that he realized one of them was missing.

"Shall we go after him, sir?" asked a guard. The constable thought a moment, then shook his head in anger.

"Don't waste your time," he said bitterly. "Do you know what it's like trying to find a kender who doesn't want to be found? No, let him go. We've still got the important ones. Have them wait here while I inform the Council."

The constable entered a plain wooden door, leaving the companions and their guards standing in a dark, smelly hallway. A tinker lay in a corner, snoring noisily, obviously having taken too much wine. The guards wiped pumpkin rind off their uniforms and grimly divested themselves of carrot tops and other garbage that clung to them. Gilthanas dabbed at the blood on his face. Sturm tried to clean his cloak as best he could.

The constable returned, beckoning from the doorway.

"Bring them along."

As the guards shoved their prisoners forward, Tanis managed to get near Sturm. "Who's in charge here?" he whispered.

"If we are fortunate, the Lord is still in control of the city," the knight replied softly. "The Tarsian lords always had the reputation for being n.o.ble and honorable." He shrugged. "Besides, what charges do they have against us? We've done nothing. At the worst, an armed escort will make us leave the city."

Tanis shook his head dubiously as he entered the courtroom. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the dingy chambers that smelled even worse than the hallway. Two of the Tarsian council members held oranges studded with cloves up to their noses.

The six members of the council were seated at the bench, which stood upon a tall platform, three upon either side of their Lord, whose tall chair sat in the center. The Lord glanced up as they entered. His eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of Sturm, and it seemed to Tanis that his face softened. The Lord even nodded in a gesture of polite greeting to the knight. Tanis's hopes rose. The companions walked forward to stand before the bench. There were no chairs. Supplicants or prisoners before the council stood to present their cases.

"What is the charge against these men?" the Lord asked. The constable gave the companions a baleful glance.

"Inciting a riot, milord," he said.

"Riot!" Flint exploded. "We had nothing to do with any riot! It was that rattle-brained-"

A figure in long robes crept forward from the shadows to whisper in his Lords.h.i.+p's ear. None of the companions had noticed the figure as they entered. They noticed it now.

Flint coughed and fell silent, giving Tanis a meaningful, grim look from beneath his thick, white eyebrows. The dwarf shook his head, his shoulders slumped. Tanis sighed wearily. Gilthanas wiped blood from his cut with a shaking hand, his elven features pale with hatred. Only Sturm stood outwardly calm and unmoved as he looked upon the twisted half-man, half-reptilian face of a draconian.

The companions remaining in the Inn sat together in Elistan's room for at least an hour after the others were taken away by the guards. Caramon remained on guard near the door, his sword drawn. Riverwind kept watch out the window. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of the angry mob and looked at each other with tense, strained faces. Then the noise faded. No one disturbed them. The Inn was deathly quiet.

The morning wore on without incident. The pale, cold sun climbed in the sky, doing little to warm the winter day. Caramon sheathed his sword and yawned. Tika dragged a chair over to sit beside him. Riverwind went to stand watchfully near Goldmoon, who was talking quietly to Elistan, making plans for the refugees.

Only Laurana remained standing by the window, though there was nothing to see. The guards had apparently grown tired of marching up and down the street and now huddled in doorways, trying to keep warm. Behind her, she could hear Tika and Caramon laugh softly together. Laurana glanced around at them. Talking too quietly to be heard, Caramon appeared to be describing a battle. Tika listened intently, her eyes gleaming with admiration.

The young barmaid had received a great deal of practice in fighting on their journey south to find the Hammer of Kharas and, though she would never be truly skilled with a sword, she had developed s.h.i.+eld-bas.h.i.+ng into an art. She wore her armor casually now. It was still mismatched, but she kept adding to it, scrounging pieces left on battlefields. The sunlight glinted on her chain-mail vest, glistened in her red hair. Caramon's face was animated and relaxed as he talked with the young woman. They did not touch-not with the golden eyes of Caramon's twin on them-but they leaned very near each other.

Laurana sighed and turned away, feeling very lonely and-thinking of Raistlin's words-very frightened.

She heard her sigh echoed, but it was not a sigh of regret. It was a sigh of irritation. Turning slightly, she looked down at Raistlin. The mage had closed the spellbook he was trying to read, and moved into the little bit of sunlight that came through the gla.s.s. He had to study his spellbook daily. It is the curse of the magi that they must commit their spells to memory time and again, for the words of magic flicker and die like sparks from a fire. Each spell cast saps the mage's strength, leaving him physically weakened until he is finally exhausted and cannot work any magic at all without rest.

Raistlin's strength had been growing since the companions' meeting in Solace, as had his power. He had mastered several new spells taught to him by Fizban, the b.u.mbling old magician who had died in Pax Tharkas. As his power grew, so did the misgivings of his companions. No one had any overt cause to mistrust him, indeed, his magic had saved their lives several times. But there was something disquieting about him-secret, silent, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.

Absently caressing the night-blue cover of the strange spellbook he had acquired in Xak Tsaroth, Raistlin stared into the street. His golden eyes with their dark, hourgla.s.s-shaped pupils glittered coldly.

Although Laurana disliked speaking to the mage, she had to know! What had he meant-a long farewell?

"What do you see when you look far away like that?" she asked softly, sitting down next to him, feeling a sudden weakness of fear sweep over her.

"What do I see?" he repeated softly. There was great pain and sadness in his voice, not the bitterness she was accustomed to hearing. "I see time as it affects all things. Human flesh withers and dies before my eyes. Flowers bloom, only to fade. Trees drop green leaves, never to regain them. In my sight, it is always winter, always night."

"And-this was done to you in the Towers of High Sorcery?" Laurana asked, shocked beyond measure. "Why? To what end?"

Raistlin smiled his rare and twisted smile. "To remind me of my own mortality. To teach me compa.s.sion." His voice sank. "I was proud and arrogant in my youth. The youngest to take the Test, I was going to show them all!" His frail fist clenched. "Oh, I showed them. They shattered my body and devoured my mind until by the end I was capable of-" He stopped abruptly, his eyes s.h.i.+fting to Caramon.