Part 25 (1/2)
”Where are the rest of the good dragons?” Theros asked. ”The old man said there were many. Silver dragons, gold dragons-”
”There are many of us,” Silvara answered reluctantly.
”Like the silver dragon we saw in Ice Wall!” Laurana said. ”It was a good dragon. If there are many of you, band together! Help us fight the evil dragons!”
”No!” Silvara cried fiercely. Her blue eyes flared, and Laurana fell back a pace before her anger.
”Why not?”
”I cannot tell you.” Silvara's hands clenched nervously.
”It has something to do with that oath!” Laurana persisted. ”Doesn't it? The oath you've broken. And the punishment you asked Fizban about-”
”I cannot tell you!” Silvara spoke in a low, pa.s.sionate voice. ”What I have done is bad enough. But I had to do something! I could no longer live in this world and see the suffering of innocent people! I thought perhaps I could help, so I took elven form, and I did what I could. I worked long, trying to get the elves to join together. I kept them from war, but matters were growing worse. Then you came, and I saw that we were in great peril, greater than any of us had ever imagined. For you brought with you-” Her voice faltered.
”The dragon orb!” Laurana said suddenly.
”Yes.” Silvara's fists clenched in misery. ”I knew then I had to make a decision. You had the orb, but you also had the lance. The lance and the orb coming to me! Both, together! It was a sign, I thought, but I didn't know what to do. I decided to bring the orb here and keep it safe forever. Then, as we traveled, I realized the knights would never allow it to remain here. There would be trouble. So, when I saw my chance, I sent it away.” Her shoulders sagged. ”That was apparently the wrong decision. But how was I to know?”
”Why?” Theros asked severely. ”What does the orb do? Is it evil? Have you sent those knights to their doom?”
”Great evil,” Silvara murmured. ”Great good. Who can say? Even I I do not understand the dragon orbs. They were forged long ago by the most powerful of magic-users.” do not understand the dragon orbs. They were forged long ago by the most powerful of magic-users.”
”But the book Tas read said they could be used to control dragons!” Flint stated. ”He read it with some kind of gla.s.ses. Gla.s.ses of true seeing, he called 'em. He said they don't lie-”
”No,” said Silvara sadly. ”That is true. It is too true, as I fear you friends may discover to their bitter regret.”
The companions, fear closing around them, sat together in silence broken only by Gilthanas's choking sobs. The torches sent shadows dodging and dancing around the quiet tomb like undead spirits. Laurana remembered Huma and the Silver Dragon. She thought of that final, terrible battle-the skies filled with dragons, the land erupting in flame and in blood.
”Why have you brought us here, then?” Laurana asked Silvara quietly. ”Why not just let us all take the orb away?”
”Can I tell them? Do I have the strength?” Silvara whispered to an unseen spirit.
She sat quietly for a long time, her face expressionless, her hands twisting in her lap. Her eyes closed, her head bowed, her lips moved. She covered her face with her hands and sat quite still. Then, shuddering, she made her decision.
Rising to her feet, Silvara walked over to Laurana's pack. Kneeling down, she slowly and carefully unwrapped the broken shaft of wood that the companions had carried such a long and weary distance. Silvara stood, her face once more filled with peace. But now there was also pride and strength. For the first time, Laurana began to believe this girl was something as powerful and magnificent as a dragon. Walking proudly, her silver hair glistening in the torchlight, Silvara walked over to stand before Theros Ironfeld.
”To Theros of the Silver Arm,” she said, ”I give the power to forge the dragonlance.”
BOOK 3.
1.
The Red Wizard and His.
Wonderful Illusions!
Shadows crept across the dusty tables of the Pig and Whistle tavern. The sea breeze off the Bay of Balifor made a shrill whistling sound as it blew through the ill-fitting front windows, that distinctive whistle giving the inn the last part of its name. Any guesses as to how the tavern got the first part ended on sight of the innkeeper. A jovial, kind-hearted man, William Sweet.w.a.ter had been cursed at birth (so town legend went) when a wandering pig overturned the baby's cradle, so frightening young William that the mark of the pig was forever imprinted on his face.
This unfortunate resemblance had certainly not impaired William's temper, however. A sailor by trade until he had retired to fulfill a lifelong ambition of keeping an inn, there was not a more respected or well-liked man in Port Balifor than William Sweet.w.a.ter. No one laughed more heartily at pig jokes than did William. He could even grunt quite realistically and often did pig imitations for the amus.e.m.e.nt of his customers. (But no one ever-after the untimely death of Peg-Leg Al-called William by the name ”Piggy.”) William rarely grunted for his customers these days. The atmosphere of the Pig and Whistle was dark and gloomy. The few old customers that came sat huddled together, talking in low voices. For Port Balifor was an occupied town-overrun by the armies of the highlords, whose s.h.i.+ps had recently sailed into the Bay, disgorging troops of the hideous dragonmen.
The people of Port Balifor-mostly humans-felt extremely sorry for themselves. They had no knowledge of what was going on in the outside world, of course, or they would have counted their blessings. No dragons came to burn their town. The draconians generally left the citizens alone. The Dragon Highlords were not particularly interested in the eastern part of the Ansalon continent. The land was spa.r.s.ely populated: a few poor, scattered communities of humans and Kendermore, the homeland of the kenders. A flight of dragons could have leveled the countryside, but the Dragon Highlords were concentrating their strength in the north and the west. As long as the ports remained opened, the Highlords had no need to devastate the lands of Balifor and Goodlund.
Although not many old customers came to the Pig and Whistle, business had improved for William Sweet.w.a.ter. The draconian and goblin troops of the Highlord were well paid, and their one weakness was strong drink. But William had not opened his tavern for money. He loved the companions.h.i.+p of old friends and new. He did not not enjoy the companions.h.i.+p of the Highlord's troops. When they came in, his old customers left. Therefore, William promptly raised his prices for draconians to three times higher than in any other inn in town. He also watered the ale. Consequently, his bar was nearly deserted except for a few old friends. This arrangement suited William fine. enjoy the companions.h.i.+p of the Highlord's troops. When they came in, his old customers left. Therefore, William promptly raised his prices for draconians to three times higher than in any other inn in town. He also watered the ale. Consequently, his bar was nearly deserted except for a few old friends. This arrangement suited William fine.
He was talking to a few of these friends-sailors mostly, with brown, weathered skin and no teeth-on the evening that the strangers entered his tavern. William glared at them suspiciously for a moment, as did his friends. But, seeing road-weary travelers and not the Highlord's soldiers, he greeted them cordially and showed them to a table in the corner.
The strangers ordered ale all around-except for a red-robed man who ordered nothing but hot water. Then, after a subdued discussion centering around a worn leather purse and the number of coins therein, they asked William to bring them bread and cheese.
”They're not from these parts,” William said to his friends in a low voice as he drew the ale from a special keg he kept beneath the bar (not the keg for draconians). ”And poor as a sailor after a week ash.o.r.e, if I make my guess.”
”Refugees,” said his friend, eyeing them speculatively.
”Odd mixture, though,” added the other sailor. ”Yon red-bearded fellow's a half-elf, if ever I saw one. And the big one's got weapons enough to take on the Highlord's whole army.”
”I'll wager he's stuck a few of them with that sword, too,” William grunted. ”They're on the run from something, I'll bet. Look at the way that bearded fellow keeps his eyes on the door. Well, we can't help them fight the Highlord, but I'll see they don't want for anything.” He went to serve them.
”Put your money away,” William said gruffly, plunking down not only bread and cheese but also a tray full of cold meats as well. He shoved the coins away. ”You're in trouble of some kind, that's plain as this pig's snout upon my face.”
One of the women smiled at him. She was the most beautiful woman William had ever seen. Her silver-gold hair gleamed from beneath a fur hood, her blue eyes were like the ocean on a calm day. When she smiled at him, William felt the warmth of fine brandy run through his body. But a stern-faced, dark-haired man next to her shoved the coins back to the innkeeper.
”We'll not accept charity,” the tall, fur-cloaked man said.
”We won't?” asked the big man wistfully, staring at the smoked meat with longing eyes.
”Riverwind,” the woman remonstrated, putting a gentle hand on his arm. The half-elf, too, seemed about to interpose when the red-robed man, who had ordered the hot water, reached out and picked up a coin from the table.
Balancing the coin on the back of his bony, metallic-colored hand, the man suddenly and effortlessly sent it dancing along his knuckles. William's eyes opened wide. His two friends at the bar came closer to see better. The coin flickered in and out of the red-robed man's fingers, spinning and jumping. It vanished high in the air, only to reappear above the mage's head in the form of six coins, spinning around his hood. With a gesture, he sent them to spin around William's head. The sailors watched in open-mouthed wonder.
”Take one for your trouble,” said the mage in a whisper.
Hesitantly, William tried to grab the coins that whirled past his eyes, but his hand went right through them! Suddenly all six coins disappeared. One only remained now, resting in the palm of the red-robed mage.
”I give you this in payment,” the mage said with a sly smile, ”but be careful. It may burn a hole in your pocket.”
William accepted the coin gingerly. Holding it between two fingers, he gazed at it suspiciously. Then the coin burst into flame! With a startled yelp, William dropped it to the floor, stomping on it with his foot. His two friends burst out laughing. Picking up the coin, William discovered it to be perfectly cold and undamaged.
”That's worth the meat!” the innkeeper said, grinning.
”And a night's lodgings,” added his friend, the sailor, slapping down a handful of coins.
”I believe,” said Raistlin softly, glancing around at the others, ”that we have solved our problems.”