Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (34 page)

would be the perfect choice. The people would be quite willing to

see your nephew take the position. His mother, your sister, mar-

ried into the Caladon family. It is a compromise the Heads of

House would accept.

"But this is all water beneath the bridge. In two days time, Sil-

vanoshei Caladon will be in Silvanost. You have proclaimed pub-

licly that you would support a member of the Caladon family as

Speaker of the Stars."

"Because you advised that I do so!" Konnal returned.

"I have my reasons," Glaucous said. He glanced at the guests,

who continued to talk, their voices rising in their excitement. The

name "Silvanoshei" could be heard now, coming to them through

the starlit darkness. "Reasons that will become clear to you

someday, my friend. You must trust me."

"Very well, what do you recommend that I do about

Silvanoshei ?"

"You will make him Speaker of the Stars."

"What are you saying?" Konnal was thunderstruck. "This. . .

this son of dark elves. . . Speaker of the Stars. . ."

"Calm yourself, my dear friend," Glaucous admonished in

placating tones. "We will borrow a leaf out of the book of the

Qualinesti. Silvanoshei will rule in name only. You will remain

the general of the Wildrunners. You will retain control over all the

military. You will be the true ruler of Silvanesti. And in the in-

terim, Silvanesti will have a Speaker of the Stars. The people will

be joyful. Silvanoshei's ascension to the throne will put a stop to

the unrest that has developed of late. Once their goal is achieved,

the militant factions among our people-most notably the

kirath-will cease to cause trouble."

"I cannot believe you are serious, Glaucous." Konnal was

shaking his head.

"Never more serious in my life, dear friend. The people will

bring their cares and woes to the king now instead of you. You

will be free to accomplish the real work of ruling Silvanesti.

Someone must be proclaimed regent, of course. Silvanoshei is

young, very young for such a vast responsibility."

" Ah!" Konnallooked quite knowing. "I begin to see what you

have in mind. I suppose that I-"

"You cannot be regent and general of the WIldrunners," he said.

" And whom do you suggest?" Konnal asked.

Glaucous bowed with graceful humility. "I offer myself. I will

undertake to counsel the young king. You have found my advice

useful from time to time, I believe."

"But you have no qualifications!" Konnal protested. "You are

not of House Royal. You have not served in the Senate. Before this

you were a wizard serving in the Tower of Shalost," he stated

brusquely.

"Oh, but you yourself will recommend me," said Glaucous,

resting his hand on Konnal's arm.

" And what am I to say by way of recommendation?"

"Only this-you will remind them that the Shield Tree grows

in the Garden of Astarin, a garden that I oversee. You will remind

them that I am the one who helped plant the Shield Tree. You will

remind them that I am the one currently responsible for keeping

the shield in place."

" A threat?" Konnal glowered.

Glaucous gazed long at the general, who began to feel un-

comfortable. "It is my fate never to be trusted," Glaucous said at

last. "To have my motives questioned. I accept that, a sacrifice I

make to serve my people."

"I am sorry," Konnal said gruffly. "It's just that-"

"Apology accepted. And now," Glaucous continued, "we

should make preparations to welcome the young king to Sil-

vanost. You will declare a national holiday. We will spare no ex-

pense. The people need something to celebrate. We will have that

minstrel who sang tonight sing something in honor of our new

Speaker. What a lovely voice she has."

"Yes," Konnal agreed absently, abstracted. He was beginning

to think that this plan of Glaucous's wasn't a bad plan after all.

" Ah, how very sad, my friend," Glaucous said, pointing to the

pond. "One of your swans is dying."

CHAPTER TWELVE

MARCHING ORDERS

The first day after the siege of Sanction, Mina tried to leave

her tent to go stand in line with the other soldiers waiting

for food. She was mobbed, surrounded by soldiers and

camp followers who wanted to touch her for luck or who wanted

her to touch them. The soldiers were respectful, awed in her

presence. Mina spoke to each one, always in the name of the

One, True God. But the press of men, women and children was

overwhelming. Seeing that Mina was about to drop from ex-

haustion, her Knights, led by Galdar, drove the people away.

Mina returned to her tent. Her Knights stood guard over her rest.

Galdar brought her food and drink.

The next day, Mina held a formal audience. Galdar ordered

the soldiers to form ranks. She passed among them, speaking to

many by name, recalling their bravery in battle. They left her

presence dazzled, her name upon their lips.

After the review, she visited the tents of the dark mystics. Her

Knights had spread the story of how Mina had restored Galdar's

arm. Miracles of healing such as this had once been common in

the Fourth Age, but not anymore.

The mystic healers of the Knights of Neraka, healers who had

stolen the means of healing from the Citadel of Light, had in years

past been able to perform healing miracles that rivaled those the

gods themselves had granted in the Fourth Age. But recently, the

healers had noticed that they were losing some of their mystical

powers. They could still heal, but even simple spells drained

them of energy to the point where they found themselves near

collapse.

No one could explain this strange and dire occurrence. At

first, the healers blamed the mystics of the Citadel of Light,

saying that they had found a way to prevent the Knights of

Neraka from healing their soldiers. But they soon heard reports

from their spies within the Citadel that the mystics on Schallsea

and in other locations throughout Ansalon were encountering the

very same phenonmena. They, too, sought answers, but thus far,

in vain.

Overwhelmed by the number of casualties, forced to conserve

their energy, the healers had aided Lord Milles and his staff first,

for the army needed its commanders. Even then, they could do

nothing for critical wounds. They could not restore hacked off

limbs, they could not stop internal bleeding, they could not mend

a cracked skull.

The eyes of the wounded fixed on Mina the moment she en-

tered the healers' tent. Even those who had been blinded, whose

eyes were covered with bloody bandages, turned their sightless

gaze instinctively in her direction, as a plant languishing in

shadow seeks the sunlight.

The healers continued their work, pretending not to notice

Mina's entry. One did pause, however, to look up. He seemed

about to order her out, then saw Galdar, who stood behind her

and who had placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

"We are busy. What do you want?" the healer demanded

churlishly.

"To help," Mina replied. Her amber-eyed gaze roved swiftly

about the tent. "What is that area back there? The place you have

screened off?"

The healer cast a glance in that direction. Groans and moan-

ing sounds came from behind the blanket which had been hastily

strung up in the back end of the large hospital tent.

"The dying," he said, cold, casual. "We can do nothing for them."

"You do not give them anything for the pain?" Mina asked.

The healer shrugged. "They are of no more use to us. Our sup-

plies are limited and must go to help those who have a chance to

return to the battle."

"You will not mind, then, if I give them my prayers?"

The healer sniffed. "By all means, go 'pray' over them. I'm

sure they'll appreciate it."

"I'm sure they wilL" she said gravely.

She walked to the back of the tent, passing along the rows of

cots where lay the wounded. Many stretched out their hands to

her or called out her name, begging her to notice them. She

smiled upon them and promised to return. Reaching the blankets

behind which lay the dying, Mina reached out her hand, parted

the blankets and let them fall behind her.

Galdar took his place in front of the blankets, turned, hand on

his sword, to keep an eye on the healers. They made a fine show

of paying no attention, but they cast sidelong glances in the di-

rection of the blankets and then exchanged those glances with

each other.

Galdar listened to what was happening behind him. He could

smell the stench of death. A look cast back through the curtain

showed him seven men and two women. Some lay on cots, but

others lay on the crude stretchers, which had been used to carry

them from the battle field. Their wounds were horrendous, at

least so Galdar perceived in that quick glance. Flesh cleaved

open, organs and bone exposed. Blood dripped on the floor,

forming gruesome pools. One man's intentestines spewed out of

him like a string of grotesque sausages. A woman Knight was

missing half her face, the eyeball dangling hideously from be-

neath a blood-soaked bandage.

Mina came to the first of the dying, the woman who had lost

her face. Her one good eye was closed. Her breathing was la-

bored. She seemed to have already started on her long journey.

Mina rested her hand on the horrible wound.

"I saw you fight in the battle, Durya," Mina said softly. "You

fought bravely, held your ground though those around you pan-

icked and retreated. You must stay your journey, Durya. The One

God has need of you."

The woman breathed easier. Her mangled face moved slowly

toward Mina, who bent and kissed her.

Galdar heard murmuring behind him, turned back quickly.

The healer's tent had grown quiet. All had heard Mina's words.

The healers made no more pretense of working. Everyone was

watching, waiting.

Galdar felt a hand touch him on the shoulder. Thinking it was

Mina, he turned. He saw instead the woman, Durya, who had

lain dying. Her face was covered with blood, she would always

bear a hideous scar, but the flesh was whole, the eye back in its

place. She walked, she smiled, she drew a tremulous breath.

"Mina brought me back," Durya said, her tone awed, won-

dering. "She brought me back to serve her. And I will. I will serve

her all her days."

Exalted, her face radiant, Durya left the tent. The wounded

cheered and began to chant, "Mina, Mina!" The healers started

after Durya in shocked disbelief.

"What is she doing in there?" demanded one, seeking to enter.

"Praying," Galdar said gruffly, blocking the way. "You gave

her permission, remember?"

The healer glowered and swiftly departed. Galdar saw the

man hot-footing his way to Lord Milles's tent.

"Yes, you tell Lord Milles what you've witnessed," Galdar ad-

vised the man silently, gleefully. "Tell him and add yet another

twist of the knife that rankles in his chest."

Mina healed them all, healed everyone of the dying. She

healed a Talon commander who had taken a Solamnic spear in his

gut. She healed a foot soldier who had been trampled by the

slashing hooves of a battle horse. One by one, the dying rose from

their beds and walked out to cheers from the other wounded.

They thanked her and praised her, but Mina turned all their grat-

itude aside.

"Offer your thanks and your loyalty to the One True God,"

she told them. "It is by the god's power that you are restored."

Indeed, it seemed that she was given divine assistance, for

she did not grow weary or faint, no matter how many of the in-

jured she treated. And that was many. When she came from help-

ing the dying, she moved from one of the wounded to another,

laying her hands upon them, kissing them, praising their deeds

in battle.

"The power of healing does not come from me," she told

them. "It comes from the God who has returned to care for you."

By midnight, the healer's tent was empty.

Under orders from Lord Milles, the dark mystics kept close

watch on Mina, trying to figure out her secret so as to discredit

her, denounce her as a charlatan. They said that she must be re-

sorting to tricks or sleight-of-hand. They poked pins into limbs

she had restored, trying to prove they were illusion, only to see

real blood flow. They sent patients to her suffering from horrible

contagious diseases, patients the healers themselves feared to ap-

proach. Mina sat beside these sufferers, laid her hands upon their

open sores and oozing pustules and bid them be well in the name

of the One God.

The grizzled veterans whispered that she was like the clerics

of old, who were given wondrous powers by the gods. Such cler-

ics, they said, had once been able to raise the dead. But that mir-

acle, Mina either would not or could not perform. The dead

received special attention from her, but she did not restore them

to life, though she was often begged to do so.

"We are brought into this world to serve the One True God,"

Mina said. "As we serve the True God in this world, the dead do

important service in the next. It would be wrong to bring them

back."

By her command, the soldiers had carried all the bodies from

the field-bodies of friend and foe alike-and arranged them in

long rows on the bloodstained grass. Mina knelt beside each

corpse, prayed over each no matter which side the person had

fought on, commended the spirit of each to the nameless god.

Then she ordered them to be buried in a mass grave.

At Galdar's insistence, the third day after the siege Mina held

counsel with the Neraka Knights' commanders. They now in-

cluded almost all the officers who had formerly reported to Lord

Milles, and to a man these officers urged Mina to take up the siege

of Sanction, to lead them to what must be a resounding victory

over the Solamnics.

Mina refused their entreaties.

"Why?" Galdar demanded this morning, the morning of

the fifth day, when he and Mina were alone. He was frustrated

at her refusal. "Why will you not launch an attack? If you con-

quer Sanction, Lord Targonne will not be able to touch you! He

will be forced to recognize you as one of his most valued

Knights!"

Mina was seated at a large table she had ordered be brought

into her tent. Maps of Ansalon were spread out upon it. She had

studied the maps every day, moving her lips as she went over

them, speaking silently the names of the towns and cities and vil-

lages to herself, memorizing their locations. Ceasing her work,

she looked up at the minotaur.

"What do you fear, Galdar?" she asked mildly.

The minotaur scowled, the skin between his eyes, above his

snout, creased into folds. "My fear is for you, Mina. Those who

are deemed a threat to Targonne disappear from time to time. No

one is safe from him. Not even our former leader, Mirelle Abrena.

It was put about that she died after eating spoiled meat, but

everyone knows the truth."