Part 43 (1/2)
He scrutinized the t.i.tle. ”'Being a History of Duncan, High King of Thorbardin, with Full and Complete Accounts of the Ogre Battles, the Dwarfgate Wars, and Subsequent Tragic Ramifications Involving Civil Unrest.' Whew!” Tas paused to straighten out his tongue that had gotten all tangled up over that last bit.
Flint came peering through the fog. ”Ta.s.slehoff, you rattle-brain, where have you gotten to?”
Tas s.n.a.t.c.hed off the spectacles and thrust them in one of his pockets. He had found them lying about, which made them fair game, but he wasn't certain Flint would see it that way, and Tas didn't want to waste time arguing.
”I'm over here,” he called.
”Doing what?” Flint demanded, seeing the light and bearing down on him.
”Nothing,” Tas said, hurt. ”Just taking a look at this old book.
”I can read Dwarvish, Flint. I can't speak it or understand it, but I can read it. Isn't that interesting?”
Flint took away the lantern and glanced at the book. ”That's not Dwarvish, you ninny. I don't know what it is. Any sign of Arman?”
”Who? Oh, him. No, but take a look at this book. It's about King Duncan. The t.i.tle says so, along with a bunch of other stuff about rams and civil unrest.”
He stopped talking, because suddenly he couldn't read the t.i.tle. The words had gone back to being squiggles, whorls, dots, dashes and curlicues. When he'd seen them through the spectacles, they had been words. When he looked at them now, with the spectacles tucked in his pocket, they weren't. Tas had a sneaking hunch he knew what was going on.
He glanced about to see if Flint was watching. The dwarf was calling out Arman's name, but no one answered.
”I don't like this,” Flint muttered.
”If he is out there searching for the Hammer, he wouldn't be likely to tell us where, would he?” Tas pointed out. ”He wants to beat us to it.”
Flint grunted and rubbed his nose, then muttered again and pulled out the map. Holding it in his hand, he went over to stare and poke at a wall. He looked at the map, then looked back, frowning, at the wall. ”Must be a hidden door here somewhere.” He started to tap the wall with his hammer. ”According to the map, the Promenade of n.o.bles is on the other side, but I can't figure out how to get to it.”
Tas took out the spectacles and held them to his eyes and looked down at the book. Sure enough, the Ramifications and Subesquents were back. Tas peered through the spectacles at Flint, to see if they made the dwarf look different.
Flint looked the same, rather to Tas's disappointment. The wall, however, had changed a good deal. In fact, it wasn't a wall at all.
”There's no wall, Flint,” Tas told him. ”Just keep walking and you'll be inside a dark hall with statues all lined up in a row.”
”What do you mean there's no wall? Of course, there's a wall! Look at it!”
As Flint turned to glare at him, Tas whipped off the spectacles and held them behind his back. This was more fun than he'd had in a long time. The wall was there once again. A solid stone wall.
”Whoa!” breathed Tas, awed.
”Quit wasting time,” Flint snapped, ”and come over and help me look for the secret door. On the other side of this wall is the Promenade. We walk down it, go up some stairs and then go up some more stairs, and we're at the entrance to the Ruby Chamber with the Hammer!” He rubbed his hands. ”We're close. Really close! We just have to find some way past this blasted wall!”
He went back to tapping at the stone work. Tas held up the spectacles, took one last look, then, secreting them in his pocket, he walked boldly up to the wall, closed his eyes-in case the spectacles might be wrong and he was going to smash his nose-and walked straight into the stones.
He heard Flint bellow, then he heard the bellow get stuck in the dwarf's windpipe so that it turned into a choke, and then Flint was yelling. ”Tas! You rattle-brain! Where did you go?”
Tas turned around. He could see Flint quite clearly, but apparently the dwarf couldn't see him, because Flint was running up and down in front of a stone wall that wasn't there.
”I'm on the other side,” Tas called. ”I told you. There's no wall. It just looks like there's a wall. You can walk through it!”
Flint hesitated, dithered a little bit, then he put the hammer back in its harness and set down the lantern on the floor. Holding one hand over his eyes and thrusting the other hand in front of him, he walked forward slowly and gingerly.
Nothing happened. Flint took away his hand from his eyes. He found himself, just as Tas had said, in a long, dark hallway lined with statues of dwarves, each standing in its own niche.
”You forgot the lantern,” said Tas, and he went back to fetch it.
Flint stared at the kender in wonder. ”How did you know that wall wasn't real?”
”It was marked on the map,” Tas said. He handed Flint the lantern. ”Where does this corridor lead?”
Flint looked back at the map. ”No, it isn't.”
”Bah!” Tas said. ”What do you know about maps? I'm the expert. Are we going down this hall or not?”
Flint looked at the map and scratched his head. He looked back at the wall that wasn't there, then stared at the kender. Tas smiled at him brightly. Flint frowned, then walked off down the corridor, flas.h.i.+ng the light over the statues and muttering to himself, something he tended to do a lot when he was around the kender.
Ta.s.slehoff put his hand into his pocket, patted the spectacles, and sighed with bliss. They were magic! Not even Raistlin had such a wonderful pair of spectacles as this.
Tas meant to keep these marvelous spectacles forever and ever, or at least for the next couple of weeks, which, to a kender, amounts to roughly the same thing.
As Flint walked the Grand Promenade, flas.h.i.+ng the lantern light here and there, he forgot Ta.s.slehoff and the mystery of the vanis.h.i.+ng stone wall. The Hammer was as good as his.
In each niche he pa.s.sed stood a statue of a dwarven warrior clad in the armor of the time of King Duncan. Moving down the long row, Flint imagined himself surrounded by an honor guard of dwarven soldiers, clad in their ceremonial finery, a.s.sembled to pay him homage. He could hear their cheers: Flint Fireforge, the Hammer-Finder! Flint Fireforge, the Unifier! Flint Fireforge, the Bringer of the Dragonlance! Flint Fireforge, High King!
No, Flint decided. He didn't want to be High King. Being king would mean he'd have to live under the mountain, and he was too fond of fresh air, blue sky, and suns.h.i.+ne to do that. But the other t.i.tles sounded fine to him, especially the Bringer of the Dragonlance. He came to the end of the rows of dwarven soldiers and there was Sturm, splendid in his armor, saluting him. Next to him stood Caramon, looking very solemn, and Raistlin, meek and humble in the great dwarf's presence.
Laurana was there, too, smiling on him and giving him a kiss, and Tika was there, and Otik, promising him a life-time supply of free ale if he would honor the inn with his presence. Ta.s.slehoff popped up, grinning and waving, but Flint banished him. No kender in this dream. He pa.s.sed Hornfel, who bowed deeply, and came to Tanis, who regarded his old friend with pride. There, at the end of the row, was the flas.h.i.+ly dressed dwarf from his dream. The dwarf winked at him.
”Not much time...” said Reorx.
Flint went cold all over. He came to a halt and wiped chill sweat from his brow.
”Serves me right. Daydreaming when I should be keeping an eye out for danger.” He turned around to yell at the kender. ”What do you think you're doing, lolly-gagging about when we're on an important quest!”
”I'm not lolly-gagging,” Tas protested. ”I'm looking for Arman. I don't think he's been here. We'd see his footprints in the dust. He probably didn't know that wall wasn't a wall.”
”Most likely,” said Flint, feeling a jab of conscience. In his dream of glory, he'd forgotten all about the young dwarf.
”Should we turn around and go back?” Tas asked.
The line of statues came to an end. A short corridor branched off from the promenade to the left. According to the map, this corridor led to one set of stairs that led to a second set of stairs. Hidden stairs. Secret stairs. Young Arman would never find them. He could manage to make his way to the Ruby Tower without climbing up these stairs, but the route was longer and more complicated. Unless, of course, that dwarf claiming to be Kharas showed him the way.
”We'll find the Hammer first,” Flint decided. ”We've come this far, after all, and we're close to where it might be, according to the map. Once we have the Hammer safe, then we'll search for Arman.”
He hurried down the corridor, with the kender at his heels, and there were the stairs. Flint started climbing, and the aches came back to his leg muscles, and the pain returned to his knees, and there was that annoying shortness of breath in his chest again. He distracted himself by trying to decide what he was going to do with the Hammer once he found it.