Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

It might be a day of joy for them, but he had the feeling it was going to be a day of aggravation and contention for him.

As if to prove him right, Tasslehoff Burrfoot burst out of the woods, running as fast as his short legs would carry him, an irate miller in hot pursuit.

“You don’t understand!” Tas was yelling over his shoulder, “I was trying to put it back !”

The meeting of the refugees started every bit as badly as Tanis had expected. They held the meeting in a grove of trees near the stream, for there was no cave large enough to hold eight hundred men, women, and children. The refugees had chosen representatives to speak for them, but they didn’t intend to let those people speak unobserved. Thus almost everyone in the small community attended the meeting, standing on the outskirts where they could see, hear and speak up if they felt like it. Not an ideal situation, Tanis thought, for any delegates who might have been persuaded to change their thinking by reasoned argument would be forced to stand their ground because they were under the watchful eyes of those who had selected them. The Plainsmen arrived in a body, for they had not been able to agree on a delegate—a bad sign. Riverwind was grimmer and more morose than usual. Goldmoon stood at his side, her face flushed with anger. Members of the Que-shu tribe stood apart from those of the Que-Kiri. None of the Plainsmen mingled with the other former slaves but regarded the main body of refugees with a suspicion that was whole-heartedly returned.

The refugees were also divided. Elistan came with his group of followers. Hederick arrived with his. Tanis and his friends formed yet another group.

Tanis looked around the assembly, where people were eying each other askance. Only last night, they were all dancing and singing together. So much for Goldmoon’s day of joy. Tanis looked to Elistan to start the proceedings. A former member of the Theocracy of Seekers himself, Elistan had been one of the few members of that group to actually use his power to help people. He had been the only one of them to stand up against Dragon Highlord Verminaard, warning the others that they were wrong to believe the Highlord’s promises—promises that turned out to be lies and eventually landed them in the iron mines of Pax Tharkas. Though a prisoner himself, Elistan had continued to defy Verminaard and had nearly paid for his rebellion with his life. Already suffering from a wasting disease, he had been tortured by Verminaard in an effort to force him to worship the Dark Queen.

Elistan had been dying when he had met Goldmoon. She had secretly entered Pax Tharkas in company with Tanis and the other companions in a bold endeavor to free the slaves. Seeing Elistan, weak as he was, continue to work tirelessly to help the people, Goldmoon was drawn to him. She was able to heal him through the power of Mishakal, and Elistan knew that at last his life-long search had ended. He had found the true gods.

Elistan was able to read and translate the cryptic Disks of Mishakal. Elistan used the disks to teach them of the ancient gods of Krynn who, if they were remembered at all, were remembered only in legend. He told the people of Paladine, God of Light, and leader of the other gods of Light. He told them of Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, and of those gods who dwelt in the shadows. He spoke of Gilean of the Book, the God of the Scales of Balance, who, with the other Gods of Neutrality, kept the scales from tipping one way or the other, as had happened during the Age of Might, bringing about the catastrophe known as the Cataclysm that had forever changed the face of the world.

Although only in his forties, Elistan appeared older. The white robes of a Revered Son of Paladine hung on this thin frame. His recent illness, though cured, had left its mark on him. So, too, had his new-found faith. He was no longer troubled by doubts, no longer searching. His eyes were bright with intelligence and laughter. Children ran straight to his arms. People admired him and loved him, and more than a few had already accepted his teachings and were now followers of the gods.

Hederick the High Theocrat was not among them. In the absence of true gods, Hederick had devised some gods of his own. These Seeker gods had done well by Hederick, providing him with a good living, if they had done little for anyone else. Hederick had abandoned his gods when Verminaard came along, succumbing to the Highlord’s blandishments and lies, ending up in the dungeons of Pax Tharkas.

Hederick had prudently taken no part in the uprising, for he thought it had little chance of success. When, to his amazement, the slaves were victorious, he was quick enough to switch sides and take advantage of the freedom others had won for him. He had always been jealous and mistrustful of Elistan and he was secretly incensed that the man was now able to perform “miracles.” Hederick did not believe in these miracles. He did not believe in these new gods. He was biding his time, waiting for Elistan to be exposed as a charlatan. Meanwhile, because Hederick was loud and ingratiating and said what everyone wanted to hear, he’d manage to win over large numbers to his way of thinking.

Tanis hoped Elistan’s wise counsel would prevail this day, convincing the refugees that they were not safe here. Unfortunately, before Elistan had a chance to speak, Hederick raised his arms.

“My dear friends,” began the High Theocrat in well-oiled tones, “we have come together today to discuss issues important to us all.”

Tanis sighed and looked at Elistan, who stood behind the High Theocrat with the rest of the Seekers. Elistan caught Tanis’s glance. He shrugged and smiled ruefully. Hederick was still the leader of the people. He had a right to address them first.

“There are those among us who have been talking of leaving this valley,” Hederick was saying.

“This valley—that is safe, teeming with game, sheltered from the winter winds, hidden from our enemies—”

“We are not hidden,” Tanis muttered, recalling Riverwind’s words to himself only that morning. Tanis stood with his friends, apart from the main body, leaning his back against a fir tree. “Why doesn’t Elistan speak up, remind him of that? Elistan should say something, do something—instead of just standing there.”

“On the contrary,” said Laurana, who was beside him. “Elistan is doing exactly right. He will allow Hederick to have his say, then Elistan will be able to answer all that Hederick is saying.” Tanis glanced at her. Laurana was not even listening to Hederick. Her gaze was fixed on Elistan. Her eyes, almond-shaped and bluer than the clear, cobalt sky, glowed with admiration; her voice warmed when she spoke of him. Tanis felt a twinge of jealousy. Some might say that Elistan was old enough to be Laurana’s father, but in truth the beautiful elven maiden was far older than the human male. Laurana appeared to be a maid in her early twenties, as young as her friend, Tika Waylan, when, in fact, Laurana could have been Tika’s great-grandmother.

I have no right to be jealous, Tanis reminded himself. I’m the one who ended our relationship. I’m in love with another woman myself, or at least, I think I might be in love with her. I should be glad Laurana has found someone else.

All very logical arguments, and yet Tanis found himself saying, “You and Elistan have certainly been spending a lot of time together.”

Laurana turned to him. Her blue eyes were chill as the water in the stream. “What do you mean by that remark?” she asked sharply.

“Nothing,” Tanis returned, astonished at her sudden anger. “I didn’t mean anything—”

“Indeed we have been spending time together,” Laurana continued. “I was a diplomat for many years in my father’s court, where, as you well know, every sentence must be carefully considered lest it cause someone offense. A single word given the wrong intonation could bring about a feud that might last for centuries. I offered Elistan advice on one or two small matters, and he was grateful. Now he seeks out my counsel. He does not consider me a child!”