"Don't worry. Mum's the word," Fizban said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper that carried clearly through the crowded room. "You'll love Palanthas. Beautiful city. Give Sturm my regards. Oh, and Ta.s.slehoff"-the old magician looked at him shrewdly-"you did the right thing, my boy!"

"I did?" Tas said hopefully. "I'm glad." He hesitated. "I wondered...about what you said-the dark path. Did I-?"

Fizban's face grew grave as he gripped Tas firmly on the shoulder "I'm afraid so. But you have the courage to walk it."

"I hope so," Tas said with a small sigh. "Well, good-bye. I'll be back. Just as soon as the war's over."

"Oh, I probably won't be here," Fizban said, shaking his head so violently his hat slid off. "Soon as the new weapon's perfected, I'll be leaving for-" he paused. "Where was that I was supposed to go? I can't seem to recall. But don't worry. We'll meet again. At least you're not leaving me buried under a pile of chicken feathers!" he muttered, searching for his hat.

Tas picked it up and handed it to him.

"Good-bye," the kender said, a choke in his voice.

"Good-bye, good-bye!" Fizban waved cheerfully. Then-giving the gnomes a hunted glance-he pulled Tas over to him. "Uh, I seem to have forgotten something. What was my name again?"

Someone else said good-bye to the old magician, too, although not under quite the same circ.u.mstances.

Elistan was pacing the sh.o.r.e of Sancrist, waiting for the boat that would take him back to Southern Ergoth. The young man, Douglas, walked along beside him. The two were deep in conversation, Elistan explaining the ways of the ancient G.o.ds to a rapt and attentive listener.

Suddenly Elistan looked up to see the old, befuddled magician he had seen at the Council meeting. Elistan had tried for days to meet the old mage, but Fizban always avoided him. Thus it was with astonishment Elistan saw the old man come walking toward them now along the sh.o.r.eline. His head was bowed, he was muttering to himself. For a moment, Elistan thought he would pa.s.s by without noticing them, when suddenly the old mage raised his head.

"Oh, I say! Haven't we met?" he asked, blinking.

For a moment Elistan could not speak. The cleric's face turned deathly white beneath its weathered tan. He was finally able to answer the old mage, his voice was husky. "Indeed we have, sir. I did not realize it before now. And though we were but lately introduced, I feel that I have known you a long, long time."

"Indeed?" The old man scowled suspiciously. "You're not making some sort of comment on my age, are you?"

"No, certainly not!" Elistan smiled.

The old man's face cleared.

"Well, have a pleasant journey. And a safe one. Farewell."

Leaning on a bent and battered staff, the old man toddled on past them. Suddenly he stopped and turned around. "Oh, by the way, the name's Fizban."

"I'll remember," Elistan said gravely, bowing. "Fizban."

Pleased, the old magician nodded and continued on his way along the sh.o.r.eline while Elistan, suddenly thoughtful and quiet, resumed his walk with a sigh.

8.

The Perechon.

Memories of long ago.

This is crazy, I hope you realize that!" Caramon hissed.

"We wouldn't be here if we were sane, would we?"

Tanis responded, gritting his teeth.

"No," Caramon muttered. "I suppose you're right."

The two men stood in the shadows of a dark alleyway, in a town where generally the only things ever found in alleyways were rats, drunks, and dead bodies.

The name of the wretched town was Flotsam, and it was well named, for it lay upon the sh.o.r.es of the Blood Sea of Istar like the wreckage of a broken vessel tossed upon the rocks. Peopled by the dregs of most of the races of Krynn, Flotsam was, in addition, an occupied town now, overrun with draconians, goblins, and mercenaries of all races, attracted to the Highlords by high wages and the spoils of war.

And so, "like the other sc.u.m," as Raistlin observed, the companions floated along upon the tides of war and were deposited in Flotsam. Here they hoped to find a ship that would take them on the long, treacherous journey around the northern part of Ansalon to Sancrist-or wherever- Where they were going was a point that had been much in contention lately-ever since Raistlin's recovery from his illness. The companions had anxiously watched him following his use of the dragon orb, their concern not completely centered on his health. What had happened when he used the orb? What harm might he have brought upon them?

"You need not fear," Raistlin told them in his whispering voice. "I am not weak and foolish like the elven king. I gained control of the orb. It did not gain control of me."

"Then what does it do? How can we use it?" Tanis asked, alarmed by the frozen expression on the mage's metallic face.

"It took all my strength to gain control of the orb," Raistlin replied, his eyes on the ceiling above his bed. "It will require much more study before I learn how to use it."

"Study..." Tanis repeated. "Study of the orb?"

Raistlin flicked him a glance, then resumed staring at the ceiling. "No," he replied. "The study of books, written by the ancient ones who created the orb. We must go to Palanthas, to the library of one Astinus, who resides there."

Tanis was silent for a moment. He could hear the mage's breath rattle in his lungs as he struggled to draw breath.

What keeps him clinging to this life? Tanis wondered silently.

It had snowed that morning, but now the snow had changed to rain. Tanis could hear it drumming on the wooden roof of the wagon. Heavy clouds drifted across the sky. Perhaps it was the gloom of the day, but as he looked at Raistlin, Tanis felt a chill creep through his body until the cold seemed to freeze his heart.

"Was this what you meant, when you spoke of ancient spells?" Tanis asked.

"Of course. What else?" Raistlin paused, coughing, then asked, "When did I speak of...ancient spells?"

"When we first found you," Tanis answered, watching the mage closely. He noticed a crease in Raistlin's forehead and heard tension in his shattered voice.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing much," Tanis replied warily. "Just something about ancient spells, spells that would soon be yours."

"That was all?"

Tanis did not reply immediately. Raistlin's strange, hourgla.s.s eyes focused on him coldly. The half-elf shivered and nodded. Raistlin turned his head away. His eyes closed. "I will sleep now," he said softly. "Remember, Tanis. Palanthas."

Tanis was forced to admit he wanted to go to Sancrist for purely selfish reasons. He hoped against hope that Laurana and Sturm and the others would be there. And it was where he had promised he would take the dragon orb. But against this, he had to weigh Raistlin's steady insistence that they must go to the library of this Astinus to discover how to use the orb.

His mind was still in a quandary when they reached Flotsam. Finally, he decided they would set about getting pa.s.sage on a ship going north first and decide where to land later.

But when they reached Flotsam, they had a nasty shock. There were more draconians in that city than they had seen on their entire journey from Port Balifor north. The streets were crawling with heavily armed patrols, taking an intense interest in strangers. Fortunately, the companions had sold their wagon before entering the town, so they were able to mingle with the crowds on the streets. But they hadn't been inside the city gates five minutes before they saw a draconian patrol arrest a human for "questioning."

This alarmed them, so they took rooms in the first inn they came to-a run-down place at the edge of town.

"How are we going to even get to the harbor, much less buy pa.s.sage on a ship?" Caramon asked as they settled into their shabby rooms. "What's going on?"

"The innkeeper says a Dragon Highlord is in town. The draconians are searching for spies or something," Tanis muttered uncomfortably. The companions exchanged glances.

"Maybe they're searching for us," us," Caramon said. Caramon said.

"That's ridiculous!" Tanis answered quickly-too quickly. "We're getting spooked. How could anyone know we're here? Or know what we carry?"

"I wonder..." Riverwind said grimly, glancing at Raistlin.

The mage returned his glance coolly, not deigning to answer. "Hot water for my drink," he instructed Caramon.

"There's only one way I can think of," Tanis said, as Caramon brought his brother the water as ordered. "Caramon and I will go out tonight and waylay two of the dragonarmy soldiers. We'll steal their uniforms. Not the draconians-" he said hastily, as Caramon's brow wrinkled in disgust. "The human mercenaries. Then we can move around Flotsam freely."

After some discussion, everyone agreed it was the only plan that seemed likely to work. The companions ate dinner without much appet.i.te-dining in their rooms rather than risk going into the common room.

"You'll be all right?" Caramon asked Raistlin uneasily when the two were alone in the room they shared.

"I am quite capable of taking care of myself," Raistlin replied. Rising to his feet, he had picked up a spellbook to study, when a fit of coughing doubled him over.

Caramon reached out his hand, but Raistlin flinched away.

"Be gone!" the mage gasped. "Leave me be!"

Caramon hesitated, then he sighed. "Sure, Raist," he said, and left the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Raistlin stood for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Then he moved slowly across the room, setting down the spellbook. With a trembling hand, he picked up one of the many sacks that Caramon had placed on the table beside his bed. Opening it, Raistlin carefully withdrew the dragon orb.

Tanis and Caramon-the half-elf keeping his hood pulled low over his face and ears-walked the streets of Flotsam, watching for two guards whose uniforms might fit them. This would have been relatively easy for Tanis, but finding a guard whose armor fit the giant Caramon was more difficult.

They both knew they had better find something quickly. More than once, draconians looked them over suspiciously. Two draconians even stopped them, insisting roughly on knowing their business. Caramon replied in the crude mercenary dialect that they were seeking employment in the Dragon Highlord's army, and the draconians let them go. But both men knew it was only a matter of time before a patrol caught them.

"I wonder what's going on?" Tanis muttered worriedly.

"Maybe the war's heating up for the Highlords," Caramon began. "There, look, Tanis. Going into that bar-"

"I see. Yeah, he's about your size. Duck into that alley. We'll wait until they come out, then-" The half-elf made a motion of wringing a neck. Caramon nodded. The two slipped through the filthy streets and vanished into the alley, hiding where they could keep on eye on the front door of the bar.

It was nearly midnight. The moons would not rise tonight. The rain had ceased, but clouds still obscured the sky. The two men crouched in the alley were soon shivering, despite their heavy cloaks. Rats skittered across their feet, making them cringe in the darkness. A drunken hobgoblin took a wrong turn and lurched past them, falling headfirst into a pile of garbage. The hobgoblin did not get back up again and the stench nearly made Tanis and Caramon sick, but they dared not leave their vantage point.

Then they heard welcome sounds-drunken laughter and human voices speaking Common. The two guards they had been waiting for lurched out of the bar and staggered toward them.

A tall iron brazier stood on the sidewalk, lighting the night. The mercenaries lurched into its light, giving Tanis a close look at them. Both were officers in the dragonarmy, he saw. Newly promoted, he guessed, which may have been what they were celebrating. Their armor was shining new, relatively clean, and undented. It was good armor, too, he saw with satisfaction. Made of blue steel, it was fashioned after the style of the Highlords' own dragon-scale armor.

"Ready?" Caramon whispered. Tanis nodded.

Caramon drew his sword. "Elven sc.u.m!" he roared in his deep, barrel-chested ba.s.s. "I've found you out, and now you'll come with me to the Dragon Highlord, spy!"

"You'll never take me alive!" Tanis drew his own sword.

At the sound of their voices, the two officers staggered to a stop, peering bleary-eyed into the dark alley.

The officers watched with growing interest as Caramon and Tanis made a few pa.s.ses at each other, maneuvering themselves into position. When Caramon's back was to the officers and Tanis was facing them, the half-elf made a sudden move. Disarming Caramon, he sent the warrior's sword flying.

"Quick! Help me take him!" Caramon bellowed. "There's a reward out for him-dead or alive!"

The officers never hesitated. Fumbling drunkenly for their weapons, they headed for Tanis, their faces twisted into expressions of cruel pleasure.

"That's it! Nail 'im!" Caramon urged, waiting until they were past him. Then-just as they raised their swords-Caramon's huge hands encircled their necks. He slammed their heads together, and the bodies slumped to the ground.

"Hurry!" Tanis grunted. He dragged one body by the feet away from the light. Caramon followed with the other. Quickly they began to strip off the armor.

"Phew! This one must have been half-troll," Caramon said, waving his hand to clear the air of the foul smell.

"Quit complaining!" Tanis snapped, trying to figure out how the complex system of buckles and straps worked. "At least you're used to wearing this stuff. Give me a hand with this, will you?"

"Sure." Caramon, grinning, helped to buckle Tanis into the armor. "An elf in plate armor. What's the world coming to?"

"Sad times," Tanis muttered. "When are we supposed to meet that ship captain William told you about?"

"He said we could find her on board around daybreak."

"The name's Maquesta Kar-thon," said the woman, her expression cool and businesslike. "And-let me guess-you're not not officers in the dragonarmy. Not unless they're hiring elves these days." officers in the dragonarmy. Not unless they're hiring elves these days."

Tanis flushed, slowly drawing off the helm of the officer. "Is it that obvious?"

The woman shrugged. "Probably not to anyone else. The beard is very good-perhaps I should say half-elf, of course. And the helm hides your ears. But unless you get a mask, those pretty, almond shaped eyes of yours are a dead giveaway. But then, not many draconians are apt to look into your pretty eyes, are they?" Leaning back in her chair, she put a booted foot on a table, and regarded him coolly.

Tanis heard Caramon chuckle, and felt his skin burn.

They were on board the Perechon Perechon, sitting in the captain's cabin, across from the captain herself. Maquesta Kar-thon was one of the dark-skinned race living in Northern Ergoth. Her people had been sailors for centuries and, it was popularly believed, could speak the languages of seabirds and dolphins. Tanis found himself thinking of Theros Ironfeld as he looked at Maquesta. The woman's skin was shining black, her hair tightly curled and bound with a gold band around her forehead. Her eyes were brown and shining as her skin. But there was the glint of steel from the dagger at her belt, and the glint of steel in her eyes.

"We're here to discuss business, Captain Maque-" Tanis stumbled over the strange name.

"Sure you are," the woman said. "And call me Maq. Easier for both of us. It's well you have this letter from Pig-faced William, or I wouldn't have even talked to you. But he says you're square and your money's good, so I'll listen. Now, where're you bound?"

Tanis exchanged glances with Caramon. That was the question. Besides, he wasn't certain he wanted either of their destinations known. Palanthas was the capital city of Solamnia, while Sancrist was a well-known haven of the Knights.

"Oh, for the love of-" Maq snapped, seeing them hesitate. Her eyes flared. Removing her foot from the table, she stared at them grimly. "You either trust me or you don't!"

"Should we?" Tanis asked bluntly.

Maq raised an eyebrow. "How much money do you have?"

"Enough," Tanis said. "Let's just say that we want to go north, around the Cape of Nordmaar. If, at that point, we still find each other's company agreeable, we'll go on. If not, we'll pay you off, and you put us in a safe harbor."