Маргарет Уэйс: Dragons of Spring Dawning

“You have done well,” Kitiara said finally, breaking in on the draconian’s musings. Stripping off her armor with a careless lack of modesty, she waved a negligent hand. She almost seemed herself again. “You will be rewarded. Now leave me.”

The draconian bowed again and left, eyes staring at the floor. The creature was not fooled. As it left, the dragonman saw the Highlord’s gaze fall upon a scrap of parchment resting on the table. The draconian had seen that parchment upon entering. It was, the creature noted, covered with writing in a delicate elvish script. As the draconian shut the door, there came a crashing sound—the sound of a piece of dragonarmor being hurled full force against a wall.

The gale blew itself out toward morning. The sound of water dripping monotonously from the eaves thudded in Tanis’s aching head, almost making him wish for a return of the shrieking wind. The sky was gray and lowering. Its leaden weight pressed down upon the half-elf. “The seas will be running high,” Caramon said sagely. Having listened eagerly to the sea stories told them by William, the innkeeper of the Pig and Whistle in Port Balifor, Caramon considered himself somewhat of an expert on nautical matters. None of the others disputed him, knowing nothing about the sea themselves. Only Raistlin regarded Caramon with a sneering smile when his brother—who had been on small boats only a few times in his life—began talking like an old seadog.

“Maybe we shouldn’t even risk going out—” Tika began.

“We’re going. Today.” Tanis said grimly. “If we have to swim, we’re leaving Flotsam.”

The others glanced at each other, then looked back at Tanis. Standing, staring out the window, he did not see their raised eyebrows or their shrugging shoulders, though he was aware of them all the same.

The companions were gathered in the brothers’ room. It would not be dawn for another hour, but Tanis had awakened them as soon as he heard the wind cease its savage howl.

He drew a deep breath, then turned to face them. “I’m sorry. I know I sound arbitrary,” he said, “but there are dangers I know about that I can’t explain right now. There isn’t time. All I can tell you is this—we have never in our lives been in more dire peril than we are at this moment in this town. We must leave and we must leave now!” He heard a hysterical note creep into his voice and broke off.

There was silence, then, “Sure, Tanis,” Caramon said uneasily.

“We’re all packed,” Goldmoon added. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Let’s go then,” Tanis said.

“I’ve got to get my things,” Tika faltered.

“Go on. Be quick,” Tanis told her.

“I-I’ll help her,” Caramon offered in a low voice.

The big man, dressed, like Tanis, in the stolen armor of a dragonarmy officer, and Tika left quickly, probably hoping to snatch time enough for a last few minutes alone, Tanis thought, fuming in impatience. Goldmoon and Riverwind left to gather their things as well. Raistlin remained in the room, not moving. He had all he needed to carry with him—his pouches with his precious spell components, the Staff of Magius, and the precious marble of the dragon orb, tucked away inside its nondescript bag.

Tanis could feel Raistlin’s strange eyes boring into him. It was as if Raistlin could penetrate the darkness of the half-elf’s soul with the glittering light from those golden eyes. But still the mage said nothing. Why? Tanis thought angrily. He would almost have welcomed Raistlin’s questioning, his accusations.

He would almost welcome a chance to unburden himself and tell the truth—even though he knew what consequences would result.

But Raistlin was silent, except for his incessant cough.

Within a few minutes, the others came back inside the room.

“We’re ready, Tanis,” Goldmoon said in a subdued voice.

For a moment, Tanis couldn’t speak. I’ll tell them, he resolved. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. He saw their faces, he saw trust, a belief in him. They were following him without question. He couldn’t let them down. He couldn’t shake this faith. It was all they had to cling to. Sighing, he swallowed the words he had been about to speak.

“Right,” he said gruffly and started toward the door.

Maquesta Kar-thon was awakened from a sound sleep by a banging on her cabin door. Accustomed to having her sleep interrupted at all hours, she was almost immediately awake and reaching for her boots.

“What is it?” she called out.

Before the answer came, she was already getting the feel of the ship, assessing the situation. A glance through the porthole showed her the gale winds had died, but she could tell from the motion of the ship itself that the seas were running high.

“The passengers are here,” called out a voice she recognized as that of her first mate.

Landlubbers, she thought bitterly, sighing and dropping the boot she had been dragging on. “Send ’em back,” she ordered, lying down again. “We’re not sailing today.”

There seemed to be some sort of altercation going on outside, for she heard her first mate’s voice raised in anger and another voice shouting back. Wearily Maquesta struggled to her feet. Her first mate, Bas Ohn-Koraf, was a Minotaur—a race not noted for its easy-going temper. He was exceptionally strong and was known to kill without provocation—one reason he had taken to the sea. On a ship like the Perechon , no one asked questions about the past.

Throwing open the door to her cabin, Maq hurried up onto deck.

“What’s going on?” she demanded in her sternest voice as her eyes went from the bestial head of her first mate to the bearded face of what appeared to be a dragonarmy officer. But she recognized the slightly slanted brown eyes of the bearded man and fixed him with a cold stare. “I said we’re not sailing today, Half-Elf, and I meant—”

“Maquesta,” Tanis said quickly, “I’ve got to talk to you!” He started to push his way past the minotaur to reach her, but Koraf grabbed hold of him and yanked him backwards. Behind Tanis, a larger dragonarmy officer growled and took a step forward. The minotaur’s eyes glistened eagerly as he deftly slipped a dirk from the wide, bright-colored sash around his waist.

The crew above decks gathered around immediately, hoping for a fight.

“Caramon—” Tanis warned, holding out his hand restrainingly.

“Kof—!” Maquesta snapped with an angry look meant to remind her first mate that these were paying customers and were not to be handled roughly, at least while in sight of land.

The minotaur scowled, but the dirk disappeared as quickly as it had flashed into the open. Kof turned and walked away disdainfully, the crew muttering in disappointment, but still cheerful. It promised already to be an interesting voyage.

Maquesta helped Tanis to his feet, studying the half-elf with the same intense scrutiny she fixed on a man wanting to sign on as a crewmember. She saw at once that the half-elf had changed drastically since she had seen him only four days before, when he and the big man behind him closed the bargain for passage aboard the Perechon .

He looks like he’s been through the Abyss and back. Probably in some sort of trouble, she decided ruefully. Well I’m not getting him out of it I Not at the risk of my ship. Still, he and his friends had paid for half their passage. And she needed the money. It was hard these days for a pirate to compete with the Highlords...

“Come to my cabin,” Maq said ungraciously, leading the way below.

“Stay with the others, Caramon,” the half-elf told his companion. The big man nodded. Glancing darkly at the minotaur, Caramon went back over to stand with the rest of the companions who stood silently, huddled around their meager belongings.