Dragonlance 08 - Dragons of the Highlord Skies (14 page)

Dragging one of the fur blankets off the bed, Kitiara wrapped herself in it and set forth in search of Feal-Thas. She was immediately lost in a maze of frigid hallways. After blundering about, she encountered a kapak, who informed her that if the wizard was in the castle, he was likely to be in his library, which was located next door to the room in which she had spent the night.

Kitiara found the room. The door was closed, but not locked, apparently, for it opened a crack when she gave it a shove. Recalling how he had barged in on her last night, Kitiara thrust the door open and strode boldly into the room.

A large white wolf lying on a rug beside a chair leaped to its feet. The wolf’s red eyes fixed on Kitiara. A growl rumbled in the wolf’s throat. Its head went down, its ears went back. It bared its teeth in a snarl. Kitiara clapped her hand to her sword.

“He will be at your throat before you can draw your weapon,” Feal-Thas murmured.

He was reading a large leather-bound book and did not look up. He said something in his own language to the wolf and, reaching out his hand, lightly touched the beast on its head. The wolf settled down, but the red eyes remained fixed on Kitiara. She kept her hand on her sword’s hilt.

She was fuming. Once again, he’d caught her at a disadvantage, put her on the defensive, made her look a damn fool.

“Please, sit down, Highlord,” Feal-Thas said, gesturing to another chair.

“I’m not going to be here that long,” she told him curtly. “I have been sent to give you the emperor’s orders regarding the dragon orb—”

“My dragon orb,” said Feal-Thas.

Kitiara was ready for this argument. “When you became a Dragon Highlord, you swore an oath to the Queen. You pledged to serve her. The emperor is her chosen representative in the world. He has need of the dragon orb and he has the right to claim it.”

The elf’s gray eyes flickered. “I could question that, but let us say for the sake of argument I agree.” He sighed and closed the book. “Explain this scheme.”

“I thought you knew all about it?” Kit said disdainfully.

“Indulge me,” the elf returned.

Kitiara related how she had lured the knight, Derek Crownguard, into traveling to Icereach to find the orb. Feal-Thas frowned at this. The elf wore his long white hair smoothed back from his forehead and the dark line of his displeasure was clearly visible on his brow.

“I should have been informed that you were going to reveal the secret of the dragon orb to another. You have placed the orb in great danger. Not from this knight.” Feal-Thas waved away Derek as inconsequential. “The Tower wizards have been searching for this orb for centuries. If the Wizard’s Conclave were to hear about it—”

“They won’t,” said Kitiara. “The knights want the orb for themselves. They are doing all in their power to keep it secret. They don’t want the wizards to have it any more than you do.”

Feal-Thas thought this over and appeared to concede the point, for he made no further argument.

“You will give the dragon orb to the white dragon, Sleet. When this Derek Crownguard arrives,” Kitiara continued, “you will allow him to find the dragon orb. Takhisis will give orders to the dragon. Sleet will be told she can kill off any companions, if she wants, but she mustn’t harm Crownguard. Once the knight has the orb and it has him—however that works—he will be allowed to depart with it. He will carry it back to Solamnia and that realm will fall, just as Silvanesti fell.”

The elf’s response was unexpected.

“You don’t like this plan, do you, Highlord?”

Kitiara opened her mouth to say that she considered the plan sheer genius, one of Ariakas’s finest, but the lie stuck in her throat. “It is not for me to like it or dislike it,” she said with a shrug. “I am pledged to serve my Queen.”

“I, too, try to obey Her Dark Majesty in all things,” said Feal-Thas in mock humility. The elf reached his hand down to scratch the wolf behind his ears. “There is one problem, though. I can provide the knight, Crownguard, with access to the dragon orb, but I cannot guarantee he will survive long enough to claim it. His death will not be my doing, I assure you,” he said, seeing Kitiara glower. “I will not touch a hair of his mustache.”

Kitiara was exasperated. “As I told you, Highlord, Sleet will receive orders from Takhisis—”

“I can’t, unfortunately, give the orb to the dragon.”

“You won’t, you mean,” said Kitiara heatedly.

“Hear me out,” said Feal-Thas, lifting a delicate hand. “As I told you, I made a study of the dragon orbs. You are right when you say they are dangerous. Few have any idea
how
dangerous. I know the danger. Lorac’s fate might have been mine. The orb has been in my possession for over three hundred years, ever since the wizards asked me to take it from Wayreth in order to hide it from the Kingpriest. Many times I have been tempted to try to gain control of the orb. Many times I have longed to do battle with the essences of the dragons imprisoned inside. I wondered, ‘Am I strong enough to make the orb serve me?’”

“And I wonder if I’m supposed to give a damn about any of this,” Kit said scathingly.

Feal-Thas went on as if he hadn’t heard. “I know myself. One doesn’t live for three hundred years without searching one’s soul. I know my strengths and my weaknesses. It takes a remarkable person to dare to try to control a dragon orb—a person with absolute confidence in himself, who, at the same time, cares nothing for himself, for his own personal safety. Such a person is willing to risk all—his life, his soul—on a gamble.

“I am conceited. I admit that. I care too much about myself. I came to realize I was probably not strong enough to survive an encounter with the dragon orb. Note that I say ‘probably’. There is always, you see, that one small scintilla of doubt. I found myself waking in the night, hearing its voice, feeling myself drawn to it. I would go to it, stare into it, feel the urge to put my hands on it. In a moment of weakness, I might succumb to the temptation. I couldn’t take the risk.”

Kitiara tapped her boot on the floor. “Get to the point.”

“Hundreds of years ago,” said Feal-Thas, “I created a magical guardian and placed it in a specially built chamber along with the dragon orb. I gave orders to the guardian to slay anyone who tries to take it. That includes myself. I have slept much better ever since.”

The elf went back to his reading.

Kitiara’s jaw dropped. She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I assure you.” Feal-Thas spoke matter-of-factly.

“Then …” Kitiara floundered. “Remove the guardian. Tell it to go away.”

Feal-Thas smiled slightly and shook his head and continued reading his book. “It wouldn’t be much of a guardian if I could control it that easily.”

Kitiara took a step toward him.

The wolf rose swiftly and silently to his feet and Kitiara halted.

“What do you mean, you can’t control it? You have to!” she said. “Those are Ariakas’s orders!”

“Ariakas ordered me to permit this Derek Crownguard to enter my castle. I will do so. He ordered me to let Derek Crownguard find the dragon orb. I will do so—”

“And he will be slain by the guardian,” said Kitiara.

“That will be up to the knight. Crownguard can battle the guardian or not, as he chooses. If he slays the guardian, he can have the orb. If the guardian slays him, well, there’s always some risk involved in questing after valuable artifacts. These loathsome knights wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

“You’re not in the least worried about losing your orb,” Kit said accusingly. “You
know
the guardian will slay Crownguard.”

“The guardian
is
quite formidable,” Feal-Thas admitted gravely. “It has protected the orb for many, many years and during that time it has, I fear, become extremely possessive. When I say I am unable to remove it, I am not being coy. I assure you, it would kill me on sight.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Kitiara said.

“What does that matter to me?” Feal-Thas said as he turned a page.

“When my lord Ariakas comes to pay you a visit, it will matter,” Kitiara threatened.

“The emperor will not leave his precious war to travel all this way to upbraid me, Highlord.” Feal-Thas glanced up at her, amusement lighting the gray eyes. “I am not the one who will face his displeasure.”

Clutching the furs about her shoulders, Kitiara glared at the elf in impotent fury. He was right, curse him. Kitiara had never come across such an infuriating man, and she had no idea what to do.

“Takhisis will not look kindly upon this,” Kitiara said at last.

Feal-Thas shrugged. “My god is Nuitari, Takhisis’s son. He has little love and less respect for his mother—feelings to which you can undoubtedly relate, Kitiara uth Matar, considering how you despised your own mother.”

Kitiara opened her mouth, then shut it again. The blood pounded in her temples. Dealing with this elf was like fighting a will-o-the-wisp, one of those fiendish swamp denizens. He kept flitting about her, trying to confuse her, jabbing her in places where she least expected it.

Kitiara dug her nails into her palms. He was trying to lure her into a bog of confusion. She had to concentrate on the issue at hand, ignore everything that did not relate to it, such as the fact that she had hated her mother.

“You want our side to win this war—” she began.

“Ah, the appeal to patriotism,” said Feal-Thas. “I was wondering when you would resort to that. I have lived in this world for several centuries and barring something unforeseen occurring I am likely to live a few more. I have seen emperors come and emperors go. I will be here long after you and Ariakas and all the rest of his vaunted Highlords lie moldering in the ground. I will be here long after this great empire he is building has crumbled into dust. In other words, Highlord, I don’t give a damn about your war.”

“Then why go to all the trouble to became a Highlord? From what I heard, you risked your life to return to Silvanesti and spy on your own people. You betrayed your own king—”

“That
was personal,” Feal-Thas remarked coldly.

“Why did you do it? Because like all of us you’re ambitious! You want power. You want to rule. My guess is that you plan to challenge Ariakas—”

“Don’t get your ambition confused with mine, Highlord,” said Feal-Thas, still perusing his book. “The only thing I want is to be left in peace to pursue my studies.”

Kitiara gave a scornful laugh.

The elf lord shut his book and set it aside. He reached out to fondle the wolf, calming the animal, who did not like Kitiara’s loud laughter or her abrupt movements.

“I was born and raised in Silvanesti. Like all elves, I loved my homeland more than life itself. For reasons I will not go into because they no longer matter, I was unjustly banished from my lush green paradise and sent to a land where nothing lived, nothing grew. A land of death and desolation. My death, or so I thought.

“It was the dead of winter. The people of this region found me dying, almost frozen to death. They had never seen an elf before. They did not know what I was, but that didn’t matter. They took me into their homes and warmed me, fed me and sheltered me. They brought me back to life. I learned their secrets, secrets they had never revealed to any outsider. One woman gave those secrets to me out of love for me, for a handsome elf youth.

“I stole her secrets. I stole her love, and I betrayed her and the people who had saved me to the ogres who once dwelt in this land. My lover and her people were all slain, and when they were dead, I took their land and their possessions. My palace stands now on the byre where I burned the bodies.

“I am this land, Highlord. I am ice. Feelings such as pity, love, compassion skate off my frozen surface. If I were to somehow find a way to touch the sun, I doubt if even its flames could thaw me.

“What do I want? Peace. Solitude. I want to live here in my palace with my winter wolves and my books for the remaining years of my life (and I come of a long-lived family, even for elves), and I do not want to be disturbed. I do not want to rule anyone. Ruling people means dealing with people. It means instituting laws and collecting tribute and fighting wars, because there is always someone who wants what you have got and will try to take it from you.

“I became Highlord because I saw this was the means to my end. I intend to remove all trace of life from this part of the world. The thanoi will destroy the Ice Folk. The kapaks will destroy the thanoi. My wolves and I will destroy the kapaks. My land will fall blessedly silent as only the land can be silent when it lies empty and still beneath the trackless snow.

“So you ask what I want, Highlord? I want silence.” Feal-Thas picked up another book and opened it.

“You can find silence in death, you know,” said Kitiara grimly.

“Try it,” he said. “With a gesture and a word, I could freeze you into a solid block of ice. Then I would place your statue in the hallway—a lasting monument to stupidity.”

He resumed his reading.

Kitiara glared at the elf, but the glare was wasted, for he never once looked up at her. She considered her options. She could go back to Ariakas and complain about Feal-Thas, but that would only make Ariakas angry with her. She could leave Icereach altogether and let the fool knight come here and get himself killed, but again, Ariakas would blame her. Or she could just deal with the problem herself.

“You have no objection, I suppose, if I kill this guardian?” Kit asked.

Feal-Thas turned a page. “Be my guest. I can always create another.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Kit caustically. “I’ll give the orb to Sleet and order her not to let you have the orb. That way, you can sleep at night. What sort of guardian is it?” She considered the wizard’s likely talents, the probable location. “A frost giant? Ice wight?”

Feal-Thas’s lips twitched, as close as he’d come to laughter in a couple of centuries.

“Nothing so trite, Highlord,” he replied. “The guardian is my own creation. Quite unique, or so I should imagine.”

Kitiara turned on her heel and banged out the door. Feal-Thas smiled and scratched the wolf behind his ears and continued his reading.