Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (18 page)

der hard, gave him a good shake.

"You're hurting me," Tas protested.

"Good," Gerard growled. "Now just keep quiet, and do as

you're told."

Tas kept quiet, a remarkable feat for him, but one that was

easier at this moment than any of his friends might have had

reason to expect. His unaccustomed silence was due to the

lump of sadness that was still stuck in his throat and that he

could not seem to swallow. The sadness was all mixed up with

the confusion that was muddling his mind and making it hard

to think.

Caramon's funeral was not going at all the way it was meant

to go. Tas knew this quite well because he'd been to Caramon's

funeral once already and remembered how it went. This wasn't it.

Consequently, Tas wasn't enjoying himself nearly as much as

he'd expected.

Things were wrong. All wrong. Utterly wrong. Completely

and irretrievably wrong. None of the dignitaries were here who

were supposed to be here. Palin hadn't arrived, and Tas began to

think that perhaps Laura was right and he wasn't going to arrive.

Lady Crysania did not come. Goldmoon and Riverwind were

missing. Dalamar did not suddenly appear, materializing out of

the shadows and giving everyone a good scare. Tas discovered

that he couldn't give his speech. The lump was too big and

wouldn't let him. Just one more thing that was wrong.

The crowds were large-the entire population of Solace and

surrounding communities came to pay their final respects and to

extol the memory of the beloved man. But the crowds were not as

large as they had been at Caramon's first funeral.

Caramon was buried near the Inn he loved, next to the graves

of his wife and sons. The vallenwood sapling Caramon had

planted in honor of Tika was young and thriving. The vallen-

woods he had planted for his fallen sons were full-grown trees,

standing tall and proud as the guard provided by the Knights of

Solamnia, who accorded Caramon the honor rarely performed for

a man who was not a Knight: escorting his coffin to the burial site.

Laura planted the vallenwood in her father's memory, planted

the tree in the very heart of Solace, near the tree she had planted

for her mother. The couple had been the heart of Solace for many

years, and everyone felt it was fitting.

The sapling stood uneasily in the fresh-turned earth, looking

lost and forlorn. The people said what was in their hearts, paid

their tribute. The Knights sheathed their swords with solemn

faces, and the funeral was over. Everyone went home to dinner.

The Inn was closed for the first time since the red dragon had

picked it up and hurled it out of its tree during the War of the

Lance. Laura's friends offered to spend the first lonely nights

with her, but she refused, saying that she wanted to have her cry

in private. She sent home Cook, who was in such a state that

when she finally did come back to work, she did not need to use

any salt in the food for the tears she dripped into it. As for the

gully dwarf, he had not moved from the comer into which he'd

collapsed the moment he heard of Caramon's death. He lay in a

huddled heap wailing and howlinr:-.dismally until, to everyone's

relief, he cried himself to sleep.

"Good-bye, Laura," said Tas, reaching out his hand. He and

Gerard were the last to leave; the kender having refused to

budge until everyone was gone and he was quite certain that

nothing was going to happen the way it was intended to happen.

"The funeral was very nice. Not as nice as the other funeral, but

then I guess you couldn't help that. I really do not understand

what is going on. Perhaps that's why Caramon told Sir Gerard to

take me to see Dalamar, which I would, except that I think

Fizban might consider that to be gallivanting. But, anyway,

good-bye and thank you."

Laura looked down at the kender, who was no longer jaunty

and cheerful but looking very forlorn and bereft and downcast.

Suddenly, Laura knelt beside him and enfolded him in her arms.

"I do believe you're Tasslehofft" she said to him softly,

fiercely. "Thank you for coming." She hugged the breath from

his small body and then turned and ran through the door lead-

ing to the family's private quarters. "Lock up, will you, Sir

Gerard?" she called out over her shoulder and shut and locked

the door behind her.

The Inn was quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the

rustling of the leaves of the vallenwood tree and the creaking of

the branches. The rustling had a weepy sound to it, and it seemed

that the branches were lamenting. Tas had never seen the Inn

empty before. Looking around, he remembered the night they had

all met here after their five-year separation. He could see Flint's

face and hear his gruff complaining, he could see Caramon stand-

ing protectively near his twin brother, he could see Raistlin's sharp

eyes keeping watch over everything. He could almost hear Gold-

moon's song again.

The staff flares in blue light

And both of them vanish;

The grasslands are faded, and autumn is here.

"Everyone's vanished," Tas said ..to himself softly, and felt an-

other snuffle coming on.

"Let's go," said Gerard.

Hand on the kender's shoulder, the Knight steered Tas

toward the door, where he brought the kender to a halt to

remove several articles of a valuable nature, which had hap-

pened to tumble into his pouches. Gerard left them on the bar for

their owners to reclaim. This done, he took down the key that

hung from a hook on the wall near the door, and locked the door.

He hung the key on a hook outside the Inn, placed there in case

anyone needed a room after hours, and then marched the kender

down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Tas asked. "What's that bundle you're

carrying? Can I look inside? Are you going to take me to see

Dalamar? I haven't seen him in a long time. Did you ever hear the

story of how I met Dalamar? Caramon and I were--"

"Just shut up, will you?" Gerard said in a nasty, snapping sort

of way. "Your chatter is giving me a headache. As to where we're

going, we're returning to the garrison. And speaking of the

bundle I'm carrying, if you touch it I'll run you through with my

sword."

The Knight would say nothing more than that, although Tas

asked and asked and tried to guess and then asked if he'd

guessed right and if not, could Gerard give him a clue. Was what

was in the bundle bigger than a breadbox? Was it a cat? Was it a

cat in a breadbox? All to no avail. The Knight said nothing. His

grip on the kender was firm.

The two of them arrived at the Solamnic garrison. The guards

on duty greeted the Knight distantly. Sir Gerard did not return

their greetings but said that he needed to see the Lord of Shields.

The guards, who were members of the Lord of Shield's own per-

sonal retinue, replied that his lordship had just returned from the

funeral and left orders not to be disturbed. They wanted to know

the nature of Gerard's request.

"The matter is personal," the knight said. "Tell his lordship

that I seek a ruling on the Measure. My need is urgent."

A guardsman departed. He returned a moment later to say,

grudgingly, that Sir Gerard was to go in.

Gerard started to enter with Tasslehoff in tow.

"Not so fast, sir," the guard said, blocking their way with his

halberd. "The Lord of Shields said nothing about a kender."

"The kender is in my custody," said Gerard, ''as ordered by

the lord himself. I have not been given leave to release him from

my care. I would, however, be willing to leave him here with you

if you will guarantee that he does nojlarm during the time I am

with His Lordship-which may be several hours, my dilemma is

complex-and that he will be here when I return."

The Knight hesitated.

"He will be pleased to tell you his story of how he first met the

wizard Dalamar," Gerard added dryly.

"Take him," said the Knight.

Tas and his escort entered the garrison, passing through the

gate that stood in the center of a tall fence made of wooden poles,

each planed to a sharp point at the top. Inside the garrison were

stables for the horses, a small training field with a target set up for

archery practice, and several buildings. The garrison was not a

large one. Having been established to house those who guarded

the Tomb of the Heroes, it had been expanded to accommodate

the Knights who would make what would probably be a last-

stand defence of Solace if the dragon Beryl attacked.

Gerard had been thinking with some elation that his days of

guarding a tomb might be drawing to a close, that battle with the

dragon was imminent, though he and all the Knights were under

orders not mention this to anyone. The Knights had no proof that

Beryl was preparing to sweep down on Solace and they did not

want to provoke her into attacking. But the Solamnic command-

ers were quietly making plans.

Inside the stockade, a long, low building provided sleeping

quarters for the Knights and the soldiers under their command.

In addition, there were several outbuildings used for storage and

an administrative building, where the head of the garrison had

his own lodgings. These doubled as his office.

His lordship's aide-de-camp met Gerard and ushered him

inside. "His lordship will be with you shortly, Sir Gerard," said

the aide.

"Gerard!" called out a woman's voice. "How good to see you!

I thought I heard your name."

Lady Warren was a handsome woman of about sixty years

with white hair and a comple~ion the color of warm tea. Through-

out their forty years of marriage, she had accompanied her hus-

band on all his journeys. As gruff and bluff as any soldier, she

presently wore an apron covered with flour. She kissed Gerard on

his cheek-he stood stiffly at attention, his helm beneath his

arm-and glanced askance at the kender.

"Oh, dear," she said. "Midge!" she called to the back of the

house in a voice that might have rung across the battlefield, "lock

up my jewels!"

"Tasslehoff Burrfoot, ma'am," said Tas, offering his hand.

"Who isn't these days?" Lady Warren returned and promptly

thrust her flour-covered hands that sparkled with several inter-

esting looking rings beneath her apron. "And how are your dear

father and mother, Gerard?"

"Quite well, I thank you, ma'am," said Gerard.

"You naughty boy." Lady Warren scolded, shaking her

finger at him. "You know nothing about their health at all. You

haven't written to your dear mother in two months. She writes

to my husband to complain and asks him, most pathetically, if

you are well and keeping your feet dry. For shame. To worry

your good mother so! His lordship has promised that you shall

write to her this very day. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't sit

you down and have you compose the letter while you are in

there with him."

"Yes, ma'am," said Gerard.

"Now I must go finish the baking. Midge and I are taking one

hundred loaves of bread to Laura to help keep the Inn going, poor

thing. Ah, it's a sad day for Solace." Lady Warren wiped her face

with her hand, leaving a smear of flour behind.

"Yes, ma'am," said Gerard.

"You may go in now," said the aide and opened a door lead-

ing from the main lodging to the lord's personal quarters.

Lady Warren took her leave, asking to be remembered to

Gerard's dear mother. Gerard promised, his voice expressionless,

that he would do so. Bowing, he left to follow the aide.

A large man of middle years with the black skin common to the

people of Southern Ergoth greeted the young man warmly, a greet-

ing the young Knight returned with equal and unusual warmth.

"I'm glad you stopped by, Gerard!" said Lord Warren. "Come

and sit down. So this is the kender, is it?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'll be with you in a moment." Gerard

led Tas to a chair, plunked him down, and took out a length of

rope. Acting so swiftly that Tas did not have time to protest, the

Knight tied the kender's wrists to the chair's arms. He then

brought out a gag and wrapped i.around Tas's mouth.

"Is that necessary?" Lord Warren asked mildly.

"If we want to have any semblance of a rational conversa-

tion, it is, sir," Gerard replied, drawing up a chair. He placed the

mysterious bundle on the floor at his feet. "Otherwise you

would hear stories about how this was the second time Cara-

mon Majere had died. The kender would tell you how this fu-

neral differed from Caramon Majere's first funeral. You would

hear a recitation of who attended the first time and who wasn't

at this one."

"Indeed." Lord Warren's face took on a softened, pitying look.

"He must be one of the afflicted ones. Poor thing."

"What's an afflicted one?" Tas asked, except that due to the

gag the words came out all gruff and grumbly, sounding as if he