Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (61 page)

shadow crossed the face of the lady Knight. "What does a kender

want of the First Master?"

"The who?" Tas wondered.

"Goldmoon, the First Master."

"I'm an old friend of hers," Tas said. He held out his hand.

"My name is . . ." He paused. He was growing extremely tired of

people staring at him oddly whenever he said his name. He with-

drew his hand. "It's not important. If you'll just tell me where to

find Goldmoon . . ."

Neither of the women answered, but Tas, watching closely,

saw the Solamnic Knight glance in the direction of the largest crys-

tal dome. He guessed at once that this was where he needed to be.

"You both look very busy," he said, edging away. "I'm sorry

to have bothered you. If you'll excuse me. . ." He made a dash

for it.

"Should I go after him, sir?" he heard the guard ask the

Knight.

"No, leave him be," Lady Camilla replied. "The First Master

has a soft spot in her heart for kender." -

"But he might disturb her solitude," the guard said.

"I would give him thirty steel pieces, if he could," Lady

Camilla replied.

The lady Knight was fifty years old, a handsome woman, hale

and hearty, though her black hair was streaked with silver. Stem

of countenance, grim and stoic, she did not appear to be the sort

of person given to displays of emotion. Yet Tas heard her say this

with a sigh.

Tas reached to the door of the crystal dome and halted, fully

expecting someone to come out and tell him he shouldn't be

there. Two white-robed men did emerge, but they only smiled at

him and wished him a good afternoon.

"And a good afternoon to you, sirs," Tas said, bowing. "By the

way, I'm lost. What building is this?"

"The Grand Lyceum," said one.

"Oh," said Tas, looking wise, although he hadn't a clue what

a lyceum was. "I'm so glad I've found it. Thank you."

Bidding the gentlemen good-bye, the kender enter~d the

Grand Lyceum. After a thorough exploration of the area, ~ ex-

ploration involving opening doors and interrupting classes,

asking innumerable questions, and eavesdropping on private

conversations, the kender discovered that he was inside the

Grand Hall, a popular meeting place for the people who lived

and worked and studied in the Citadel of Light.

This being afternoon, the Grand Hall was quiet with only a

few people reading or talking together in small groups. At night

the Grand Hall would be crowded, for it served as the dining hall

for the Citadel, and here everyone-teachers and students

alike-gathered for their evening meal.

The rooms inside the crystal dome glowed with sunshine.

Chairs were numerous and comfortable. Long wooden tables

stood at one end of the enormous room. The smell of baking

bread wafted from the kitchen that was located on a level below.

The reception rooms were at the far end, some of them occupied

by students and their masters.

Tasslehoff had no difficulty gathering information about

Goldmoon. Every conversation he overheard and half those he

interrupted were centered on the First Master. Everyone, it

seemed, was very worried about her.

"I cannot believe that the Masters have allowed this to go on

this long," one woman said to a visitor. "Permitting the First

Master to remain sealed up in her room like this! She might be in

danger. She might be ill."

"Has no one made any attempt to try to talk to her?"

"0f course, we have tried to talk to her!" The woman shook

her head. "We are all of us worried about her. Ever since the night

of the storm, she has refused to see or speak to anyone, even those

closest to her. Food and water are left for her on a tray during the

night. The tray is always found empty in the morning. She leaves

us notes on the tray assuring us that she is well, but she begs that

we will respect her privacy and not disturb her."

"I won't disturb her,lI Tasslehoff said to himself. Ill," tell her

very quickly what's happened, and then I'll leave."

"What are we to do?" the woman continued. "The handwrit-

ing on the notes is her own. We are all agreed on that."

"That proves nothing. She may be a prisoner. She may be

writing those notes under duress, especially if she fears she will

bring down harm upon others in the Citadel."

"But with what motive? If she were taken hostage, we would

expect a ransom request or that some demand be made in return

for her well-being. Nothing has been asked of us. We have not

been attacked. The island remains as peaceful as anywhere in this

dark time. Ships come and go. Refugees arrive daily. Our lives

continue apace."

"What of the silver dragon?" the second woman asked. "Mirror

is one of the guardians of Schallsea Isle and of the Citadel of Light.

I would think that the dragon, with his magic, would be able to dis-

cover if some evil had taken possession of the First Master."

"He undoubtedly could, but Mirror has vanished as well,"

her friend returned helplessly. "He took flight during the worst of

the storm. No one has seen him since."

"I knew a silver dragon once," Tas said, barging in on the con-

versation. "Her name was Silvara. I couldn't help overhearing

you talk about Goldmoon. She's a very good friend of mine. I'm

deeply worried about her. Where did you say her rooms were?"

"At the very top of the Lyceum. Up those stairs," said one.

"Thank you," said Tas and turned that direction.

"But no one's allowed up there," the woman added sternly.

Tas turned back again. "Oh, sure. I understand. Thanks."

The two women walked ofL continuing their conversation.

Tasslehoff loitered in the area, admiring a large statue of a silver

dragon that occupied an honored place in the center of the hall.

When the women were gone, Tas glanced about. Seeing that one

was watching him, he began to climb the stairs.

Goldmoon's chambers were located at the very top of the

Grand Lyceum. A spiral staircase of many hundred steps led

upward through the various levels. The climb was long, the

stairs built for the tall legs of humans, not the short legs of

kender. Tas had begun bounding up the stairs enthusiastically,

but after stair number seventy-five, he was forced to sit down

and take a brief rest.

"Whew!" he said, panting. "I wish I were a silver dragon. At

least then I'd have wings."

The sun was starting to dip down into the sea, by the time

Tasslehoff-after a few more rests-reached the top.

The staircase ended, so Tas presumed he'd arrived at the level

where Goldmoon lived. The hallway was peaceful and qyiet, or

so it seemed at first. A door decorated with sheaves of wh~t and

vines and fruit and flowers stood at the end of the corridor. As Tas

moved closer to the door, he detected the faint sound of someone

weeping.

The tender-hearted kender forgot his own trouble. He

knocked gently on the door. "Goldmoon," he called out. "It's me,

Tasslehoff. Is anything wrong? Maybe I can help."

The sound of weeping ceased immediately, replaced by

silence.

"Goldmoon," Tas began. "I really need to talk to-"

A hand grasped hold of his shoulder. Startled, Tas jumped

and banged his head against the door. He looked wildly around.

Palin gazed down at him sternly.

"I thought I might find you here," he stated.

"I'm not going back," Tas said, rubbing his head. "Not yet.

Not until I talk to Goldmoon." He looked up at Palin with suspi-

cion. "Why are you here?"

"We were worried about you," Palin replied.

"I'll bet" Tas muttered. Sidling away from Palin, he turned

back to the door. "Goldmoon!" He knocked again on the door.

"Let me in! It's me, Tasslehoff!"

"First Master," Palin added, "I am here with Tas. Something

very strange has happened. We would like your wise counsel."

A moment's silence, then a voice, muffled from crying, came

back, "You must excuse me, Palin, but I am seeing no one at

present."

"Goldmoon," Palin said, after a moment. "I have ve~y sad

news. My father is dead."

Another moment's silence, then the voice, strained and

hushed. "Caramon dead?"

"He died several weeks ago. His end was peaceful."

"I came in time to speak at his funeral Goldmoon," Tasslehoff

added. "It's too bad you missed my speech. But I could give it

again if you-"

A terrible cry burst from behind the door. "Oh, fortunate man!

Oh,lucky, lucky man!"

Palin looked grim. "Goldmoon!" he called out. "Please let me

in!"

Tasslehof£ very subdued and solemn, put his nose to the

doorknob.

"Goldmoon," he said, speaking through the key hole, "I'm

very sorry to hear that you've been sick. And I was sorry to hear

that Riverwind was dead. But I heard he died being a hero and

saving my people from the dragon when there were probably

quite a few who said that we kender weren't worth saving. I want

you to know that I'm grateful and that I was proud to call River-

wind my friend."

"This is a shabby trick you play upon me, Palin," said the

voice angrily from inside. "You have inherited your uncle's gift of

rnimickry. Everyone knows that Tasslehoff Burrfoot is dead."

"No, I'm not" Tas returned. "And that's the problem. At least

it is for some people." He gave Palin a stern look. "It's really me,

Goldmoon," Tas continued. "If you put your eye to the keyhole

you can see me."

He waved his hand.

A lock clicked. Slowly, the door opened. Goldmoon stood

framed within. Her room was lit by many candles, their glow cast

a halo of light around her. The corridor into which she stepped

was dark, except for the light of a single red star. She was cloaked

in shadows. Tas could not see her.

"First Master. . ." Palin stepped forward, his hand out-

stretched.

Goldmoon turned, allowed the light from her room to touch

her face. "Now, you see. . ." she said softly.

The light of the candles gleamed on hair that was thick and

golden and luxuriant, on a face that was soft and smooth, on

eyes that, though red with weeping, were blue as the morning

sky and shone with the luster of youth. Her body was strong as

the days when the Chieftain's Daughter had first fallen in love

with a young warrior named Riverwind. The years Goldmoon

had lived in the world numbered ninety, but her body, her hair,

her eyes, her voice, her lips and hands were those of the young

woman who had carried the blue crystal staff into the Inn of the

Last Home.

Beautiful, she stood sorrowfully before them, her head droop-

ing like the bud of a cut rose.

"What miracle is this?" Palin cried, awed.

"No miracle," said Goldmoon bitterly. "A curse."

"Are you cursed?" said Tas with interest. "So am I!"

Goldmoon turned to the kender, looked him up and down. "It

is you!" she murmured. "I recognized your voice. Why ~re you

here? Where have you been? Why have you come?"

Tasslehoff extended his hand, shook hers politely. "I'd love to

tell you all about everything, Goldmoon. All about Caramon's

first funeral and then his second funeral and how I'm cursed. But

right now Palin is trying to murder me. I came to see if you would

tell him to stop. So if you'll just speak to him, I'll be going."

Tas made a break for it. He had very nearly reached the stairs

and was just about to dash down them when Palin's hand snaked

out and snagged him by the collar of his shirt.

Tas wriggled and writhed, trying various kender tricks devel-

oped through years of practice at escaping the long arm of irri-

tated sheriffs and irate shopkeepers. He used the old Twist and

Bite and the always effective Stomp and Kick, but Palin was proof

against them. At last, truly desperate, Tas tried the Lizard. He en-

deavored to slide his arms out of his shirt sleeves, regretful at

having to leave his shirt behind, but, like the lizard who leaves

part of his tail in the hand of the would-be captor, he would be

free. Unfortunately, the new shirt proved a bit snug, and this

didn't work. Palin was thin, but he was strong and, in addition,

he had a strong incentive to hold onto the kender.

"What is he talking about?" Goldmoon asked, staring at Tas in

bewilderment. She shifted her gaze to Palin. "Are you trying to

murder him?"

"Of course not," Palin said impatiently.

" Are too!" Tas muttered, squirming.

"Listen to me, Tas. I'm truly sorry about what happened back

there," Palin said.

He seemed about to continue, then sighed and lowered his

head. He looked old, older than Tas remembered, and he'd seen

him only a few moments ago. The lines m his face had deepened,

darkened, pulled taut; the skin stretched tight across the bones.

He blinked his eyes too frequently and often rubbed them, as if

trying to see through a film or mist covering them. Tas-who was

set to run-was touched by Palin's obvious trouble. The kender

decided he could at least stay to listen.