“One of the original dragonlances,” Dhamon said reverently. “I wondered if these things were simply legends.”
Feril laughed. “They were real all right—and I guess a couple of them are still around.”
Dhamon nodded and gently replaced the lance handle and banner in its box. “I don’t know if even a magical lance could kill something as big as the White you saw.”
“You have to have faith,” Feril countered. “Magic, if it’s powerful enough, could make the size of something irrelevant,” she said. “And speaking of magic, I think I’ll see what Palin is doing with the spawn.”
Feril, her butterfly sleeves billowing, seemed to float toward the stairs. As she started up, Blister, who had been so still and silent they had forgotten she was there, followed her. The kender glanced at the big steps, and scowled. “Everything’s built for humans,” Blister muttered. She knew Feril would get to the top long before her.
“Goldmoon’s champions are a rather ragtag lot,” the Master said. He sat at a long polished table, opposite Palin.
“I remember my father telling me stories about he and Uncle Raistlin, Tas, and everyone. I suppose you could have called them ragtag, too—especially after they’d been in a fight.”
The blue spawn stood in the center of the table inside a bell-shaped piece of glass with a thick cork stopper at the top. It intently regarded the two men. Then, ultimately bored, it paced back and forth, hissing and spitting lightning. The bolts bounced off the sides and ricocheted into a dazzling light show.
“And I suspect Goldmoon chose wisely,” Palin continued. “If they bested three of these things—these new draconians—they must be formidable.”
“Or lucky.” The Master edged his head closer to the jar and nudged the cowl back slightly, yet still his face was hidden. “Indeed, it looks like a draconian, but there are differences.”
Palin leaned closer and stared at the spawn. The room fell silent. Suddenly, he reached forward and gripped the bottle tightly. “It’s the eyes! Look at them!”
The Master gently pried Palin’s fingers from the jar and leaned in to study the spawn intently. “They are not entirely reptilian,” he said in agreement.
“I don’t just mean the large round pupils or the placement of the eyes closer to the front of the head instead of toward the sides, I mean what’s behind them. They have depth. They’re soft and sad, almost...”
“Human,” finished the Master. He regarded Palin’s sudden ashen pallor and waited silently for a few moments.
“What is going on?” Palin cried. “What is happening to us? What are we becoming”
“Not we,” said the Master. “We are going to figure this out.” He put his hand on Palm’s shoulder. “The spawn has a thinner tail than a draconian, and it is capable of flight. Only sivaks could fly before. Could this creature have come from the egg of a blue dragon?”
Palin nodded. “The lightning would be consistent with a blue dragon’s breath weapon, but Takhisis created the other draconians. With her gone, who created this?”
“Let’s find out.”
Palin stood and walked to a bank of cabinets that stretched the length of the room. Built into the wall, and made of the same wood as the table, it contained a few dozen different drawers of varying size with assorted nobs and handles. He opened a drawer and extracted a few sheets of parchment, a quill and a vial of ink. “I will record our observations,” he explained as he arranged the objects on the table.
The Master left the room for a moment, his dark robe silently trailing behind him. When he returned, he was carrying a copper basin filled to the rim with water. He placed it on the table and seated himself there. Placing his hands on either side of the basin, he leaned forward as if he meant to drink from it. Words tumbled from his lips. Soft and craggy, his voice sounded like a breeze rustling papers.
Palin watched the Master, realizing he was casting a spell of divination that would allow them to see the birth of the creature, the process that created it, and who was responsible. Without taking his eyes off the water’s surface, Palin reached for the quill and the first sheet of parchment.
The Master’s words became softer and softer, until Palin could barely hear them anymore. The water shimmered slightly, reminiscent of rays of sun hitting the smooth surface of a lake. An ethereal, rippled image of a haggard-looking youth with a tangled mane of black hair appeared. Broad shouldered, scantily dressed, and weathered from the sun, he was likely a barbarian.
“I’d say he was from the Northern Wastes,” the Master whispered. “Look at the markings on his belt.”
“Yes, and by their indications he wasn’t from too far to the north of here.”
“Where are you, man or spawn? Show us your surroundings, the place you were born,” the Master insisted.
The water rippled around the image of the man, its currents shifting and reforming into a frame that resembled stone.
“He’s in a cave,” Palin said. There were shadowing images against the cavern wall—people of various sizes and shapes, though the sorcerers could not make out enough of their features to guess their ages.
The image on the water’s surface shifted again, the man’s muscles receding, then expanding, becoming coppery and scaly. Wings sprouted from his back, revealing a kapak, a rather witless draconian that cringed and looked furtively about the false cave.
“This is interesting. Perhaps a kapak was merged with the man,” Palin speculated. “But how? And why would it turn blue?”
Again the image rippled and shifted form, the kapak-like image starting to grow, seeming to fill the entire cavern in which it had stood. The water turned completely blue and the two sorcerers leaned closer toward the basin.
“What happened?” asked Palin.
“Perhaps it is the sky,” answered the Master, leaning still closer to search for a small figure in flight or a cloud.
Suddenly the water parted in the center, revealing a huge glowing orb. A blue dragon had just opened his eye.
The two sorcerers quickly backed away from the basin and looked at each other. “Skie,” said Palin.
They watched together as the reptilian eye rotated around its bulbous socket, seeming to look around the room. Its baleful gaze fixed on them and the eye narrowed. The image began to ripple. The water grew turbulent, roiled and then boiled away. The copper basin was empty.
“What does all of that mean?”
The voice was Shaon’s. The sea barbarian stood in the doorway, glancing at the basin and then at the jar containing the trapped spawn. She shuffled into the room and leaned over the table, staring at the creature. It returned her gaze.
Palin scratched furiously on the parchment, wanting to record every observation before time passed and chased away even the merest recollection.
“It means that Goldmoon chose her champions wisely,” the Master said. His voice was softer than before, the ordeal of the spell wearing on him. He leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly. “For all our magic and books and hours of study, you and your fellows were able to discover something about the dragons that Palin and I, and our associate who is elsewhere, could not. If the dragons—if even one of the dragons—found a way to create new draconians, spawn—then...” His voice trailed off.
“Then Krynn is in worse trouble than any of us feared,” Dhamon finished. He had stepped into the room behind Feril.
The Master agreed. “The dragons are enough of a menace on their own. And if we have to deal with the Blue’s spawn before we can defeat the dragons, I don’t know if we have a chance.”
“There is always a chance,” Palin said, laying down the quill. “I’m going with you back to Palanthas. We’ll pick up the final piece of the lance there.”