Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night (9 page)

The draconian leaned down to confer with the Lord. Tanis saw the man’s face darken, and it seemed as if he was about to disagree, then he bit his lip and, sighing, nodded his head. The draconian melted back into the shadows once more.

“You are under arrest, Lady Alhana,” the Lord said heavily. Sturm took a step nearer the woman as the guards closed in around her. Sturm threw back his head and cast them all a warning glance. So confident and noble did he appear, even unarmed, that the guards hesitated. Still, their Lord had given them an order.

“You better do something,” Flint growled. “I’m all for chivalry, but there’s a time and a place and this isn’t either!”

“Have you got any suggestions?” Tanis snapped.

Flint didn’t answer. There wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do and they knew it. Sturm would die before one of those guards laid a hand on the woman again, even though he had no idea who this woman was. It didn’t matter. Feeling himself torn with frustration and admiration for his friend, Tanis gauged the distance between himself and the nearest guard, knowing he could put at least one out of action. He saw Gilthanas close his eyes, his lips moving. The elf was a magic-user, though he rarely treated it seriously. Seeing the look on Tanis’s face, Flint heaved a sigh and turned toward another guard, lowering his helmeted head like a battering ram.

Then suddenly the Lord spoke, his voice grating. “Hold, knight!” he said with the authority that had been bred in him for generations. Sturm, recognizing this, relaxed, and Tanis breathed a sigh of relief. “I will not have blood shed in this Council chamber. The lady has disobeyed a law of the land, laws which, in days gone by, you, sir knight, were sworn to uphold. But I agree, there is no reason to treat her disrespectfully. Guards, you will escort the lady to prison but with the same courtesy you show me. And you, sir knight, will accompany her, since you are so interested in her welfare.”

Tanis nudged Gilthanas who came out of his trance with a start. “Truly, as Sturm said, this Lord comes from a noble and honorable line,” Tanis whispered.

“I don’t see what you’re so pleased about, Half-elf.” Flint grunted, overhearing them. “First the kender gets us charged with inciting a riot, then he disappears. Now the knight gets us thrown into prison. Next time, remind me to stick with the mage. I
know
he’s crazed!”

As the guards started to herd their prisoners away from the bench, Alhana appeared to be hunting for something within the folds of her long skirt.

“I beg a favor, sir knight,” she said to Sturm. “I seem to have dropped something. A trifle but precious. Could you look—”

Sturm knelt swiftly and immediately saw the object where it lay, sparkling, on the floor, hidden by the folds of her dress. It was a pin, shaped like a star, glittering with diamonds. He drew in his breath. A trifle! Its value must be incalculable. No wonder she did not want it found by these worthless guards. Quickly he wrapped his fingers around it, then feigned to look about. Finally, still kneeling, he looked up at the woman.

Sturm caught his breath as the woman removed the hood of her cloak and drew the veil from her face. For the first time, human eyes looked upon the face of Alhana Starbreeze.

Muralasa
, the elves called her, Princess of the Night. Her hair, black and soft as the night wind, was held in place by a net as fine as cobweb, twinkling with tiny jewels like stars. Her skin was the pale hue of the silver moon, her eyes the deep, dark purple of the night sky and her lips the color of the red moon’s shadows.

The knight’s first thought was to give thanks to Paladine that he was already on his knees. His second was that death
would be a paltry price to pay to serve her, and his third that he must say something, but he seemed to have forgotten the words of any known language.

“Thank you for searching, noble knight,” Alhana said softly, staring intently into Sturm’s eyes. “As I said, it was a trifle. Please rise. I am very weary and, since it seems we are going to the same place, you could do me a great favor by giving me your assistance.”

“I am yours to command,” Sturm said fervently, and he rose to his feet, swiftly tucking the jewel inside his belt. He held out his arm, and Alhana put her slender, white hand on his forearm. His arm trembled at her touch.

It seemed to the knight as if a cloud had covered the light of the stars when she veiled her face again. Sturm saw Tanis fall into line behind them, but so enraptured was the knight with the beautiful face burning in his memory that he stared straight at the half-elf without a flicker of recognition.

Tanis had seen Alhana’s face and felt his own heart stir with her beauty. But he had seen Sturm’s face as well. He had seen that beauty enter the knight’s heart, doing more damage than a goblin’s poisoned arrowtip. For this love must turn to poison, he knew. The Silvanesti were a proud and haughty race. Fearing contamination and the loss of their way of life, they refused to have even the slightest contact with humans. Thus the Kinslayer Wars had been fought.

No, thought Tanis sadly, the silver moon itself was not higher or farther out of Sturm’s reach. The half-elf sighed. This was all they needed.

A
s the guards led the prisoners from the Hall of Justice, they passed two figures standing outside in the shadows. Both were so swathed in clothing it was difficult to tell to what race they belonged. Hoods covered their heads, their faces were wrapped in cloth. Long robes shrouded their bodies. Even their hands were wrapped in strips of white, like bandages. They spoke together in low tones.

“See!” one said in great excitement. “There they are. They match the descriptions.”

“Not all of them,” said the other dubiously.

“But the half-elf, the dwarf, the knight! I tell you, it is them! And I know where the others are,” the figure added smugly. “I questioned one of the guards.”

The other, taller figure considered, watching the group being led off down the street. “You are right. We should report
this to the Highlord at once.” The shrouded figure turned, then stopped as it saw the other hesitate. “What are you waiting for?”

“But shouldn’t one of us follow? Look at those puny guards. You know the prisoners will try and escape.”

The other laughed unpleasantly. “Of course they’ll escape. And we know where they’ll go—to rejoin their friends.” The shrouded figure squinted up at the afternoon sun. “Besides, in a few hours it won’t make any difference.” The tall figure strode away, the shorter hurrying after.

It was snowing when the companions left the Hall of Justice. This time, the constable knew better than to march his prisoners through the main city streets. He led them into a dark and gloomy alleyway that ran behind the Hall of Justice.

Tanis and Sturm were just exchanging glances, and Gilthanas and Flint were just tensing to attack when the half-elf saw the shadows in the alley begin to move. Three hooded and cloaked figures leaped out in front of the guards, their steel blades gleaming in the bright sunlight.

The constable put his whistle to his lips, but he never made a sound. One of the figures knocked him unconscious with the hilt of his sword, while the other two rushed the guards, who immediately fled. The hooded figures faced the companions.

“Who are you?” Tanis asked, astounded at his sudden freedom. The hooded and cloaked figures reminded him of the hooded draconians they had fought outside of Solace. Sturm pulled Alhana behind him.

“Have we escaped one danger only to find a worse?” Tanis demanded. “Unmask yourselves!”

But one of the hooded men turned to Sturm, his hands raised in the air.
“Oth Tsarthon e Paran,”
he said.

Sturm gasped.
“Est Tsarthai en Paranaith,”
he replied, then he turned to Tanis. “Knights of Solamnia,” he said, gesturing at the three men.

“Knights?” Tanis asked in astonishment. “Why—”

“There is no time for explanation, Sturm Brightblade,” one of the knights said in Common, his accent thick. “The guards will return soon. Come with us.”

“Not so fast!” Flint growled, his feet planted firmly in the street, his hands breaking off the handle of a hauberk so that it
suited his short stature. “You’ll find time for explanations or I’m not going! How’d you know the knight’s name and how came you to be waiting for us—”

“Oh, just run him through!” sang a shrill voice out of the shadows. “Leave his body to feed the crows. Not that they’ll bother; there’s few in this world who can stomach dwarf—”

“Satisfied?” Tanis turned to Flint, who was red-faced with rage.

“Someday,” vowed the dwarf, “I’ll kill that kender.”

Whistles sounded from the street behind them. With no more hesitation, the companions followed the knights through twisting, rat infested alleys. Saying he had business to attend to, Tas disappeared before Tanis could catch hold of him. The half-elf noticed that the knights didn’t seem at all surprised by this, nor did they try to stop Tas. They refused, however, to answer any questions, just kept hurrying the group along until they entered the ruins—the old city of Tarsis the Beautiful.

Here the knights stopped. They had brought the companions to a part of the city where no one ever came now. The streets were broken and empty, reminding Tanis strongly of the ancient city of Xak Tsaroth. Taking Sturm by the arm, the knights led him a short distance from his friends and began to confer in Solamnic, leaving the others to rest.

Tanis, leaning against a building, looked around with interest. What remained standing of the buildings on this street was impressive, much more beautiful than the modern city. He saw that Tarsis the Beautiful must have deserved its name before the Cataclysm. Now nothing but huge blocks of granite lay tumbled about. Vast courtyards were choked and overgrown with weeds turned brown by the biting winter winds.

He walked over to sit down on a bench with Gilthanas, who was talking to Alhana. The elflord introduced him.

“Alhana Starbreeze, Tanis Half-Elven,” Gilthanas said. “Tanis lived among the Qualinesti for many years. He is the son of my uncle’s wife.” Alhana drew back the veil from her face and regarded Tanis coldly.
Son of my uncle’s wife
was a polite way of saying Tanis was illegitimate, otherwise Gilthanas would have introduced him as the “son of my uncle.” The half-elf flushed, the old pain returning forcibly, hurting as much now as it had fifty years before. He wondered if he would ever be free of it.

Scratching his beard, Tanis said harshly, “My mother was raped by human warriors during years of darkness following the Cataclysm. The Speaker kindly took me in following her death and raised me as his own.”

Alhana’s dark eyes grew darker until they were pools of night. She raised her eyebrows. “Do you see a need to apologize for your heritage?” she asked in a chill voice.

“N-no …” Tanis stammered, his face burning. “I—”

“Then do not,” she said, and she turned away from him to Gilthanas. “You asked why I came to Tarsis? I came seeking aid. I must return to Silvanesti to search for my father.”

“Return to Silvanesti?” Gilthanas repeated. “We—my people did not know the Silvanesti elves had left their ancient homeland. No wonder we lost contact—”

“Yes,” Alhana’s voice grew sad. “The evil that forced you, our cousins, to leave Qualinesti came to us as well.” She bowed her head, then looked up, her own voice soft and low. “Long we fought this evil. But in the end we were forced to flee or perish utterly. My father sent the people, under my leadership, to Southern Ergoth. He stayed in Silvanesti to fight the evil alone. I opposed this decision, but he said he had the power to prevent the evil from destroying our homeland. With a heavy heart, I led my people to safety and there they remain. But I came back to seek my father, for the days have been long and we have heard no word of him.”

“But had you no warriors, lady, to accompany you on such a dangerous journey?” Tanis asked.

Alhana, turning, glanced at Tanis as if amazed that he had intruded upon their conversation. At first she seemed about to refuse to answer him, then—looking longer at his face—she changed her mind.

“There were many warriors who offered to escort me,” she said proudly. “But when I said I led my people to safety, I spoke rashly. Safety no longer exists in this world. The warriors stayed behind to guard the people. I came to Tarsis hoping to find warriors to travel into Silvanesti with me. I presented myself to the Lord and the Council, as protocol demands—”

Tanis shook his head, frowning darkly. “That was stupid,” he said bluntly. “You should have known how they feel about elves, even before the draconians came! You were damn lucky they only ordered you tossed out of the city.”

Alhana’s pale face became—if possible—paler. Her dark eyes glittered. “I did as protocol demands,” she replied, too well bred to show her anger beyond the cool tones of her voice. “To do otherwise would have been to come as a barbarian. When the Lord refused to aid me, I told him I intended to seek help on my own. To do less would have not been honorable.”