Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night (27 page)

The Speaker said nothing, his face, gray and cold.

“You were about to say ‘human whore!’ ” Laurana said softly, her words falling like pins on nerves stretched taut.

“Go to your lodgings, Laurana,” the Speaker ordered in a tight voice.

“So that is what you think of me,” Laurana whispered, her throat constricting. “That is why everyone stares and stops talking when I come near them. Human whore.”

“Sister, do as your father commands,” Porthios said. “As for what we think of you—remember, you brought this on yourself. What do you expect? Look at you, Laurana! You are dressed like a man. You proudly wear a sword stained with blood. You talk glibly of your ‘adventures!’ Traveling with men such as these, humans and dwarves! Spending the nights
with them. Spending the nights with your half–breed lover. Where is he? Did he tire of you and—”

The firelight flared before Laurana’s eyes. Its heat swept over her body, to be replaced by a terrible cold. She could see nothing and remembered only a horrifying sensation of falling without being able to catch herself. Voices came at her from a great distance, distorted faces bent over her.

“Laurana, my daughter …”

Then nothing.

“Mistress …”

“What? Where am I? Who are you? I—I can’t see! Help me!”

“There, mistress. Take my hand. Shhhh. I am here. I am Silvara. Remember?”

Laurana felt gentle hands take her own as she sat up.

“Can you drink this, mistress?”

A cup was placed to her lips. Laurana sipped at it, tasting clear, cold water. She grasped it and drank eagerly, feeling it cool her fevered blood. Strength returned, she found she could see again. A small candle burned beside her bed. She was in her room, in her father’s house. Her clothes lay on a crude wooden bench, her swordbelt and scabbard stood near, her pack was on the floor. At a table, across from her bed, sat a nursemaid, her head cradled in her arms, fast asleep.

Laurana turned to Silvara, who, seeing the question in her eyes, put her finger to her lips.

“Speak softly,” the Wilder elf replied. “Oh, not for that one”—Silvara glanced at the nurse—“she will sleep peacefully for many, many hours before the potion wears off. But there are others in the house who may be wakeful. Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” Laurana answered, confused. “I don’t remember …”

“You fainted,” Silvara answered. “I heard them talking about it when they carried you back here. Your father is truly grieved. He never meant to say those things. It is just that you hurt him so terribly—”

“How did you hear?”

“I was hiding, in the shadows in the corner there. An easy thing for my people to do. The old nurse said you were fine, you just needed rest, and they left. When she went to fetch a blanket, I put the sleep juice in her tea.”

“Why?” Laurana asked. Looking at the girl closely, Laurana saw that the Wilder elf must be a beautiful woman—or would be if the layers of grime and filth were washed from her.

Silvara, aware of Laurana’s scrutiny, flushed in embarrassment. “I—I ran away from the Silvanesti, mistress, when they brought you across the river.”

“Laurana. Please, child, call me Laurana.”

“Laurana,” Silvara corrected, blushing. “I—I came to ask you to take you with me when you leave.”

“Leave?” Laurana said. “I’m not goi—” She stopped.

“Aren’t you?” Silvara asked gently.

“I … I don’t know,” Laurana said in confusion.

“I can help,” Silvara said eagerly. “I know the way through the mountains to reach the Knights’ outpost where the ships with birds’ wings sail. I will help you get away.”

“Why would you do this for us?” Laurana asked. “I’m sorry, Silvara. I don’t mean to be suspicious—but you don’t know us, and what you’re doing is very dangerous. Surely you could escape more easily on your own.”

“I know you carry the dragon orb,” Silvara whispered.

“How do you know about the orb?” Laurana asked, astounded.

“I heard the Silvanesti talking, after they left you at the river.”

“And you knew what it was? How?”

“My … people have stories … about it,” Silvara said, her hands twisting. “I—I know it is important to end this war. Your people and the Silvan elves will go back to their homes and let the Kaganesti live in peace. There is that reason and—” Silvara was silent for a moment, then she spoke so softly Laurana could barely hear her. “You are the first person who ever knew the meaning of my name.”

Laurana looked at her, puzzled. The girl seemed sincere. But Laurana didn’t believe her. Why would she risk her life to help them? Perhaps she was a Silvanesti spy, sent to get the orb? It seemed unlikely, but stranger things—

Laurana put her head in her hands, trying to think. Could they trust Silvara, at least enough to get them out of here? They apparently had no choice. If they were going into the mountains, they would have to pass through Kaganesti lands. Silvara’s help would be invaluable.

“I must talk to Elistan,” Laurana said. “Can you bring him here?”

“No need, Laurana,” Silvara answered. “He has been waiting outside for you to awaken.”

“And the others? Where are the rest of my friends?”

“Lord Gilthanas is within the house of your father, of course—” Was it Laurana’s imagination, or did Silvara’s pale cheek flush when she said that name? “The others have been given ‘guest quarters.’ ”

“Yes,” said Laurana grimly, “I can imagine.”

Silvara left her side. Creeping quietly across the floor of the room, she went to the door, opened it, and beckoned.

“Laurana?”

“Elistan!” She flung her arms around the cleric. Laying her head on his chest, Laurana shut her eyes, feeling his strong arms embrace her tenderly. Everything will be fine now, she knew. Elistan will take charge. He’ll know what to do.

“Are you feeling better?” the cleric asked. “Your father—”

“Yes, I know,” Laurana interrupted him. She felt a dull ache in her heart whenever her father was mentioned. “You must decide what we are to do, Elistan. Silvara has offered to help us escape. We could take the orb and leave tonight.”

“If that is what you must do, my dear, then you should waste no more time,” Elistan said, sitting by her in a chair.

Laurana blinked. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of his arm. “Elistan, what do you mean? You must come with us—”

“No, Laurana,” Elistan said, grasping her hand tightly in his own. “If you do this, you will have to leave on your own. I have sought help from Paladine, and I must stay here, with the elves. I believe if I stay, I will be able to convince your father that I am a cleric of the true gods. If I leave, he would always believe I am a charlatan, as your brother brands me.”

“What about the dragon orb?”

“That is up to you, Laurana. The elves are wrong in this. Hopefully, in time, they will come to see it. But we do not have centuries to talk this over. I think you should take the orb to Sancrist.”

“Me?” Laurana gasped. “I can’t!”

“My dear,” Elistan said firmly, “you must realize that if you make this decision, the burden of leadership will be upon you. Sturm and Derek are too caught up in their own quarrel and,
besides, they are human. You will be dealing with elves, your own people and the Kaganesti. Gilthanas sides with your father. You are the only one who has a chance to succeed.”

“But I’m not capable—”

“You are more capable than you give yourself credit for, Laurana. Perhaps everything you have been through up to now has been preparing you for this. You must waste no more time. Farewell, my dear.” Elistan rose to his feet and laid his hand on her head. “May Paladine’s blessing—and my own—go with you.”

“Elistan!” Laurana whispered, but the cleric was gone. Silvara quietly shut the door.

Laurana sank back into her bed, trying to think. Elistan is right, of course. The dragon orb cannot stay here. And if we are going to escape, it must be tonight. But it’s all happening so fast! And it’s all up to me! Can I trust Silvara? But why ask? She’s the only one who can guide us. Then all I have to do is get the orb and the lance and free my friends. I know how to get to the orb and the lance. But my friends—

Laurana knew, suddenly, what she would do. She realized she had been planning it in the back of her mind even as she talked to Elistan.

This commits me, she thought. There will be no turning back. Stealing the dragon orb, fleeing into the night, into strange and hostile country. And then, there is Gilthanas. We’ve been through too much together for me to leave him behind. But he will be appalled at the idea of stealing the orb and running away. And if he chooses not to go with me, would he betray us?

Laurana closed her eyes for a moment. She laid her head down wearily on her knees. Tanis, she thought, where are you? What should I do? Why is it up to me? I didn’t want this.

And then, as she sat there, Laurana remembered seeing weariness and sorrow on Tanis’s face that mirrored her own. Maybe he asked himself these same things. All the times I thought he was so strong, perhaps he really felt as lost and frightened as I do. Certainly he felt abandoned by his people. And we depended on him, whether he wanted us to or not. But he accepted it. He did what he believed was right.

And so must I.

Briskly, refusing to allow herself to think any further, Laurana lifted her head and beckoned for Silvara to come near.

Sturm paced the length of the crude cabin that had been given to them, unable to sleep. The dwarf lay stretched out on a bed, snoring loudly. Across the room, Tasslehoff lay curled in a ball of misery, chained by his foot to the bedpost. Sturm sighed. How much more trouble could they get into?

The evening had gone from bad to worse. After Laurana had fainted, it had been all Sturm could do to hold back the enraged dwarf. Flint vowed to tear Porthios limb from limb. Derek stated that he considered himself to be a prisoner held by the enemy and, as such, it was his duty to try and escape; then he would bring the Knights down to recover the dragon orb by force. Derek was immediately escorted away by the guards. Just when Sturm got Flint calmed down, an elflord appeared out of nowhere and accused Tasslehoff of stealing his purse.

Now they were being held under double guard, “guests” of the Speaker of the Suns.

“Must you pace about like that?” Derek asked coldly.

“Why? Am I keeping you awake?” snapped Sturm.

“Of course not. Only fools could sleep under these circumstances. You’re breaking my concen—”

“Hsst!” Sturm said, raising his hand warningly.

Derek instantly fell silent. Sturm gestured. The older knight joined Sturm in the center of the room where he was staring up at the ceiling. The log house was rectangular, with one door, two windows, and a firepit in the center of the floor. A hole cut in the roof provided ventilation.

It was through this hole Sturm heard the odd sound that caught his attention. It was a shuffling, scraping sound. The wooden beams in the ceiling creaked as though something heavy was crawling over it.

“A wild beast of some sort,” Derek muttered. “And we’re weaponless!”

“No,” Sturm said, listening closely. “It’s not growling. It’s moving too silently, as if it didn’t want to be heard or seen. What are those guards doing out there?”

Derek went to the window and peered out. “Sitting around a fire. Two are asleep. They’re not overly concerned about us, are they?” he asked bitterly.

“Why should they be?” Sturm said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. “There’s a couple of thousand elves within the sound of a whisper. What the—”

Sturm fell back in alarm as the stars he had been watching through the hole were suddenly blotted out by a dark, shapeless mass. Sturm reached down swiftly and grabbed a log from the smoldering fire, holding it by the end like a club.

“Sturm! Sturm Brightblade!” said the shapeless mass.

Sturm stared, trying to remember the voice. It was familiar. Thoughts of Solace flooded his mind. “Theros!” he gasped. “Theros Ironfeld! What are you doing here? The last I saw you, you were lying near death in the elven kingdom!”

The huge blacksmith of Solace struggled down through the opening in the ceiling, bringing part of the roof with him. He landed heavily, waking the dwarf, who sat up and peered, bleary-eyed, at the apparition in the center of the cabin.

“What—” the dwarf started up, fumbling for his battle-axe which was no longer by his side.

“Hush!” the smith commanded. “No time for questions. The Lady Laurana sent me to free you. We’re to meet her in the woods beyond the camp. Make haste! We have only a few hours before dawn and we must be across the river by then.” Theros strode over to look at Tasslehoff, who was trying without success to free himself. “Well, master thief, I see someone caught you at last.”

“I’m not a thief!” Tas said indignantly. “You know me better than that, Theros. That purse was planted on me—”

The smith chuckled. Taking hold of the chain in his hands, he gave a sudden heave and it split apart. Tasslehoff, however, did not even notice. He was staring at the smith’s arms. One arm, the left, was a dusky black, the color of the smith’s skin. But the other arm, the right, was bright, shining silver!

“Theros,” Tas said in a strangled voice. “Your arm—”

“Questions later, little thief,” the smith said sternly. “Now we move swift and now we move silent.”

“Across the river,” Flint moaned, shaking his head. “More boats. More boats …”

“I want to see the Speaker,” Laurana told the guard at the door to her father’s suite of rooms.

“It is late,” the guard said. “The Speaker is sleeping.”

Laurana drew back her hood. The guard bowed. “Forgive me, Princess. I did not recognize you.”

He glanced at Silvara suspiciously. “Who is that with you?”

“My maid. I would not travel at night by myself.”

“No, of course not,” the guard said hurriedly as he opened the door. “Go ahead. His sleeping room is the third one down the hall on your right.”

“Thank you,” Laurana answered and brushed past the guard. Silvara, muffled in a voluminous cape, swept softly after her.

“The chest is in his room, at the foot of his bed,” Laurana whispered to Silvara. “Are you sure you can carry the dragon orb? It is big and very heavy.”