Margaret Weis: Dragons of Summer Flame

The Protector ventured a final protest. “If there is a force trapped inside the Graygem, it must, as you say, be very powerful. Are you certain we can control it?”

“We are able to control the Graygem itself quite easily now. I j see no difficulty in our controlling this power and using it to defend ourselves.”

“But how can you be sure you’re controlling the Graygem? Perhaps the Graygem’s controlling you, Decider!”

A voice—harsher than the musical tones of the Irda—came from somewhere behind the Protector. The Irda all turned their heads in the voice’s direction, drew back so that the speaker could be seen. It was a young woman, a human woman of indeterminate age, somewhere between eighteen to twenty-five human years. The young woman was, to the eyes of the Irda, an extraordinarily ugly creature. Despite her homely looks—or maybe because of them—the Irda cherished the young woman, doted on her, spoiled her. They had done so for years, ever since she had come—an orphaned infant—to live among them.

Few Irda would have dared make such an impertinent statement to the Decider. The young human should know better. All eyes turned disapprovingly to the Irda who had been placed in charge of the human—the man known, for that very reason, as the Protector.

He appeared considerably embarrassed, was speaking to the young woman, apparently endeavoring to convince her to return to their house.

The Decider assumed an expression of extreme patience. “I’m not certain what you mean, Usha, my child. Perhaps you could explain yourself.”

The young woman appeared pleased at being the center of so much attention. She shrugged free of the Protector’s gently restraining hand, strode forward until she stood in the center of the circle of Irda.

“How do you know the Graygem isn’t controlling you? If it was, it wouldn’t be likely to tell you, now, would it?” Usha glanced around, proud of her argument.

The Decider conceded this argument, praised the human’s cleverness, and carefully kept from smiling. The idea was, of course, ludicrous, but then the girl was human after all.

“The Graygem has been quite submissive since taken into our presence,” he said. “It rests on the altar we constructed for it, barely even glimmers. I doubt if it is controlling us, Child. You need have no worries along that line.”

No other race on Krynn was as powerful in magic as the Irda. Even the gods—so some of the Irda, the Decider among them, had been known to whisper—were not as powerful. The god Reorx had lost the gem. It was the Irda who had discovered it, taken it, and now held it. The Irda knew the stories of the Graygem’s past, how it had spread chaos and havoc wherever it went throughout the world. The Graygem was, so legend had it, responsible for the creation of the races of kender, gnomes, and dwarves. But that was before the Irda had been in charge of the gem. It had been in the care of humans. What could you expect?

The meeting continued, the Irda trying every way possible to wriggle out of this situation without resorting to any sort of drastic action.

Usha soon grew bored—as humans easily do—and told her Protector she was going back to their house to fix dinner. He looked relieved.

Walking away from the meeting, Usha was inclined, at first, to be angry. Her notion was a good one, had been dismissed all too quickly. But being angry took a lot of energy and concentration. She had other matters on her mind. She walked into the wilderness, but not to gather herbs for the evening meal.

She walked instead to the beach. When she reached the shoreline, she stood staring down, fascinated, at the footprints left in the sand by the two young knights. Kneeling down, she rested her hand in one of the prints. It was much bigger than her small hand. The knights had been taller, bigger than she. Picturing them in her mind, a pleasurable and confusing tingle coursed through her body. It was the first time she’d ever seen another human, a human male.

They were ugly, certainly, compared to the Irda, but not as ugly as all that....

Usha remained on the beach, dreaming, a long, long time.

The Irda reached a decision, decided to leave the matter of the Graygem in the hands of the Decider. He would know how best to handle this situation. Whatever he determined needed to be done would be done. This concluded, they returned to their dwellings, anxious to be alone, to put all this unpleasantness behind them.

The Decider did not return immediately to his dwelling. He summoned three of the eldest of the Irda, drew them apart for a private discussion.

“I did not bring this matter up publicly,” the Decider said, speaking softly, “because I knew the pain it would cause our people. But there is one more action we must take in order to ensure our safety. We are immune to the temptations generated by the Graygem, but there is one living among us who is not. You all know of whom I speak.”

The others—by their dismayed and forlorn expressions—knew.

The Decider continued. “It grieves me to have to make this decision, but we must cast this person out. You all saw and heard Usha today. Because of her human blood, she is in danger from the Graygem.”

“We don’t know that for certain.” One ventured a meek protest.

“We know the stories,” the Decider said sharply. “I investigated and discovered them to be true. The Graygem corrupts all humans who come near it, filling them with longings and desires they cannot control. The sons of the war hero Caramon Majere nearly fell victim to it, according to one report. The god Reorx himself had to intervene to save them. The Graygem may have already seized on Usha and is trying to use her to cause dissension among us. Therefore, to ensure her safety as well as ours, Usha must be sent away.”

“But we’ve raised her since she was a baby,” another of the elders protested. “This is the only home she has ever known!”

“Usha is old enough now to live on her own, among her own kind.” The Decider relaxed his stem tone. “We have commented before on the fact that she is growing restless and bored among us. Our studious, contemplative life is not for her. As do all humans, she requires change in order to grow. We are stifling her. This separation will be as much to her advantage as our own.”

“It will be hard, giving her up.” One of the elders wiped away a tear, and the Irda do not easily cry. “Especially for the Protector. He dotes on the child.”

“I know,” said the Decider gently. “It seems cruel, but the swifter we act, the better it will be for all of us, including the Protector. Are we all agreed?”

The Decider’s wisdom was honored. He went to tell the Protector. The other Irda hurried back to their separate homes.

“Leave?” Usha stared blankly at the man she had always known as Protector. “Leave the island? When?”

“Tomorrow, Child,” said the Protector. He was already going about the small house they shared, gathering up Usha’s things, placing them on the bed, preparatory to packing them. “A boat is being readied for you. You are an adept sailor. The boat is magically enhanced. It will not overturn, no matter how rough the seas. If the wind quits, the boat will never lie becalmed, but will sail on, sped by the current of our thoughts. It will carry you safely across the ocean to the human city of Palanthas, which lies almost due south of us. A journey of twelve hours, no more.”

“Palanthas...” Usha repeated, not truly comprehending, not even knowing what she was saying.

The Protector nodded. “Of all the cities on Ansalon, I think you will find Palanthas most suitable. The population is large and varied. The Palanthians have a greater tolerance for cultures other than their own. Oddly enough, this is probably due to the presence of the Tower of High Sorcery and its master, Lord Dalamar. Though a mage of the Order of Black Robes, he is respectful of the—”