Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (81 page)

the lockpick back in a front pocket.

"I thought you might be asleep. I didn't want to bother you.

Do you have anything to eat?" The kender entered the room,

making himself at home.

"Look, Tas," Palin said, trying hard to be patient, "this isn't a

good time. I am very tired. I didn't sleep well-"

"Me neither," said Tas, marching into the parlor and plunking

himself down on a chair. "I guess you don't have anything to eat.

That's all right. I'm not really hungry."

He sat in silence, swinging his feet back and forth, looking out

at the sky and the sea. The kender was silent for several whole

minutes put together.

Palin, recognizing this as an extraordinarily unusual phenom-

enon, drew up another chair and sat down beside him.

"What is it, Tas?" he asked gently: . .

"I've decIded to go back," Tas saId, not looking at Palin, but

still looking out at the empty sky. "1 made a promise. I never

thought about it before, but a promise isn't something you make

with your mouth. You make a promise with your heart. Every

time you break a promise, your heart breaks a little until pretty

soon you have cracks running all through it. I think, all in all, it's

better to be squished by a giant."

"You are very wise, Tas," said Palin, feeling ashamed of .

self. "You are far wiser than I am."

He paused a moment. He could hear again his father's voice.

Don't kill Tas! The vision was real, much more real than any dream. A

mage learns to trust his instincts, to listen to the inner voices of heart

and soul, for those are the voices that speak the language of magic.

He wondered if, perhaps, this dream wasn't that inner voice caution-

ing him to slow down, take no drastic actions, do further study.

"Tas," said Palin slowly. "I've changed my mind. I don't want

you to go back. At least not yet."

Tas leaped to his feet. "What? I don't have to die? Is that true?

Do you mean it?"

"I said only that you didn't have to go back yet," Palin ad-

monished. "Of course, you have to go back sometime."

His words were lost on the excited kender. Tas was skipping

around the room, scattering the contents of his pouches every

which way. "This is wonderful! Can we go sailing off in a boat

like Goldmoon?"

"Goldmoon went off in a boat?" Palin repeated, amazed.

"Yes," said Tas cheerfully. "With the gnome. At least I guess

Conundrum caught up with her. He was swimming awfully fast.

I didn't know gnomes could swim so well."

"She has gone mad," Palin said to himself. He headed for

the door. "We must alert the guards. Someone will have to go

rescue her."

"Oh, they've gone after them," Tas said casually, "but I don't

think they'll find them. You see, Conundrum told me that the De-

structible can dive down under the water just like a dolphin. It's a

sub-sup-soop-whatchamacallit. A boat that travels under

water. Conundrum showed it to me last night. It looks exactly like

a gigantic steel fish. Say, I wonder if we could see them from here?"

Tasslehoff ran to the window. Pressing his nose against the

crystal, he peered out, searching for some sight of the boat. Palin

forgot the strange vision in his amazement and consternation. He

hoped very much that this was just another of Tasslehoff's tales

and that Goldmoon had not sailed away in a gnomish contraption.

He was about to go downstairs, to find out the truth of the

matter, and was heading for the door when the morning stillness

was split by a trumpet blast. Bells rang out, loudly, insistently. In

the hallway voices could be heard demanding to know what was

going on. Other voices answered, sounding panicked.

"What's that?" Tas asked, still peering out the window.

"They're sounding the call to arms," Palin said. "I wonder

why-"

"Maybe it has something to do with those dragons," Tassle-

hoff said, pointing.

Winged shapes, black against the morning sky, flew toward

the citadel. One shape, flying in the center, was larger than the

rest, so large that it seemed the green tinge in the sky was a re-

flection of the sunlight on the dragon's scales. Palin took one

good look. Appalled, he drew back into the center of the room,

into the shadows, as if, even at that distance, the dragon's red

eyes might find him.

"That is Beryl!" he said, his throat constricting. "Beryl and her

minions!"

Tas's eyes were round. "1 thought it was finding out that I

didn't have to go back to die that was making me feel all squirmy

inside. It's the curse, isn't it?" He gazed at Palin. "Why is she

coming here?"

A good question. Of course, Beryl might have decided to

attack the citadel on a whim, but Palin doubted it. The Citadel of

Light was in the territory of Khellendros, the blue dragon who

ruled this part of the world. Beryl would not encroach on the

Blue's territory unless she had desperate need. And he guessed

what that need was.

"She wants the device," Palin said.

"The magical device?" Tasslehoff reached into a pocket and

drew forth the magical artifact.

"Ugh!" He brushed his hand over his face. "You must have

spiders in here. I feel all cobwebby." He clutched the device pro-

tectively. "Can the dragon sniff it out, Palin? How does she know

we're here?"

"I don't know," Palin said grimly. He could see it all quite

clearly. "It doesn't matter." He held out his hand. "Give me the

device."

"What are we going to do?" Tas asked, hesitating. He was still

a bit mistrustful.

"We're going to get out of here," Palin said. "The magical

device must not come into her possession."

Palin could only imagine what the dragon might do with it. -

The magic of the device would make the dragon the undisputed

ruler of Ansalon. Even if there was no longer past, she could go

back to the point after the Chaos War when the great dragons had

first come to Ansalon. She could go back to any point in time and

change events so that she emerged victorious from any battle. At

the very least, she could use the device to transport her great

bloated body to circumnavigate the world. No place would be

safe from her ravages.

"Give me the device," Palin repeated urgently, reaching for it.

"We have to leave. Hurry, Tas!"

"Am I coming with you?" Tas asked, still hanging onto the

device.

"Yes!" Palin almost shouted. He started to add that they

didn't have much time-but time was the one thing they did

have. "Just. . . give me the device."

Tas handed it over. "Where are we going?" he asked eagerly.

A good question. In all the turmoil, Palin had not given that

important matter any thought.

"Solace," he said. "We will go back to Solace. We'll alert the

Knights. The Solamnic Knights in the garrison ride silver drag-

ons. They can come to the aid of the people here."

The dragons were closer now, much closer. The sun shone on

green scales and red. Their broad wings cast shadows that glided

over the oily water. Outside the door the bells clamored, urging

people to seek shelter, to flee to the hills and forests. Trumpets

sounded, blaring the call to arms. Feet pounded, steel clashed,

voices shouted terse orders and commands.

He held the device in his hands. The magic warmed him,

calmed him like a draught of fine brandy. He closed his eyes,

called to mind the words of the spell, the manipulation of the

device.

"Keep close to me!" he ordered Tas.

The kender obediently clamped his hand firmly onto the

sleeve of Palin's robes.

Palin began to recite the spell.

"Thy time is thy own. . .'"

He tried to turn the jeweled face of the pendant upward.

Something was not quite right. There was a catch in the mecha-

nism. Palin applied a bit more force, and the face plate shifted.

"Though across it you travel. . .'"

Palin adjusted the face plate right to left. He felt something

scrape, but the face plate moved.

"Its expanses you see. . .'"

Now the back plate was supposed to drop to form two

spheres connected by rods. But quite astonishingly, the back plate

dropped completely off. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Oops," said Tas, looking down at the spherical plate that lay

rolling like a crazed top on the floor. "Did you mean for that to

happen?"

"No!" Palin gasped. He stood holding in his hands a single

sphere with a rod protruding from one end, staring down at the

plate in horror.

"Here, I'll fix it!" Tas helpfully picked up the broken piece.

"Give it to me!" Palin snatched the plate. He stared helplessly

at the plate, tried to fit the rod into it, but there was no place for

the rod to go. A misty film of fear and frustration swam before his

eyes, blinding him.

He spoke the verse again, terse, panicked. "'Its expanses you

see!" He shook the sphere and the rod, shook the plate. "Work!"

he commanded in anger and desperation. "Work, damn you!"

The chain dropped down, slithered out of Palin's grasping

fingers to lie like a glittering silver snake on the floor. The rod

separated from the sphere. Jewels winked and sparkled in the

sunlight. And then the room went dark, the light of the jewels

vanished. The dragons' wings blotted out the sun.

Palin Majere stood in the Citadel of Light holding the shat-

tered remnants of the Device of Time Journeying in his crippled

hands.

The dead! Goldmoon had told him. They are feeding off you!

He saw his father, saw the river of dead pouring around him.

A dream. No, not a dream. Reality was the dream. Goldmoon had

tried to tell him.

"This is what is wrong with the magic! This is why my spells

go awry. The dead are leeching the magical power from me. They

are all around me. Touching me with their hands, their lips. . . ."

He could feel them. Their touch was like cobwebs brushing

across his skin. Or insect wings, such as he had felt at Laurana's

home. So much was made clear now. The loss of the magic. It

wasn't that he had lost his power. It was that the dead had sucked

it from him. ~

"Well," said Tas, "at least the dragon won't have the artifact."

"No," said Palin quietly, "she'll have us."

Though he could not see them, he could feel the dead all

around him, feeding.

CHAPTER THIRTYTWO

THE EXECUTION

The candle that kept count of the hours stood beside

Silvan's bed. He lay on his belly, watching the hours melt

with the wax. One by one, the lines that marked the hours

vanished until only a single line was left. The candle had been

crafted to bum for twelve hours. Silvan had lit it at midnight.

Eleven hours had been devoured by the flame. The time was

nearly noon, the time set for Mina's execution.

Silvan extinguished the candle with a breath. He rose and

dressed himself in his finest clothes, clothes he had brought to

wear on the return march-the victory march- into Silvanost.

Fashioned of soft pearl gray, the doublet was stitched with

silver that had been twisted and spun into thread. His hose

were gray, his boots gray. Touches of white lace were at his

wrist and neck.

"Your Majesty?" a voice called from outside his tent, "it is

Kiryn. May I come in?"

"If you want," said Silvan shortly, "but no one else."

"I was here earlier," Kiryn said, upon entering. "You didn't

answer. You must have been asleep."

"I have not closed my eyes," Silvan said coldly, adjusting his

collar.

Kiryn was silent a moment, an uncomfortable silence. "Have

you had breakfast?" he asked.

Silvan cast a him a look that would have been a blow to

anyone else. He did not even bother to respond.

"Cousin, I know how you feel," Kiryn said. "This act they

contemplate is monstrous. Truly monstrous. I have argued with

my uncle and the others until my throat is raw from talking, and

nothing I say makes any difference. Glaucous feeds their fear.

They are all gorging themselves on terror."

"Aren't you dining with them?" Silvan asked, half-turning.

"No, Cousin! Of course not!" Kiryn was astonished. "Could

you imagine that I would? This is murder. Plain and simple. They

may call it an 'execution' and try to dress it up so that it looks re-

spectaple, but they cannot hide the ugly truth. I do not care if this

humart is the worst, most reprehensible, most dangerous human

who ever lived. Her blood will forever stain the ground upon

which it falls, a stain that will spread like a blight among us."

Kiryn's voice dropped. He cast an apprehensive glance out

the tent. "Already, Cousin, Glaucous speaks of traitors among our

people, of meting out the same punishment to elves. My uncle

and the Heads of House were all horrified and utterly opposed to

the idea, but I fear that they will cease to feed on fear and start to

feed on each other.

"Glaucous," Silvan repeated softly. He might have said more,