Sure enough, Tika slipped deftly out of the draconian s grip and flounced angrily into the kitchen.
"Well, what do we do now?" Flint grumbled. "We came back to Solace for supplies and find nothing but draconians. My house is little more than a cinder. Tanis doesn't even have a vallenwood tree, much less a home. All we've got are platinum Disks of some ancient goddess and a sick mage with a few new spells." He ignored Raistlin's glower. "We can't eat the Disks and the magician hasn't learned to conjure up food, so even if we knew where to go, we'd starve before we got there!"
"Should we still go to Haven?" Goldmoon asked, looking up at Tanis. "What if it is as bad as this? How do we know the Highseeker Council is even in existence?"
"I don't have the answers," Tanis said, sighing. He rubbed his eyes with his hand. "But I think we should try to reach Qualinesti."
Tasslehoff, bored by the conversation, yawned and leaned back in his chair. It didn't matter to him where they went. Examining the Inn with intense interest, he wanted to get up and look at where the kitchen had burned, but Tanis had warned him before they entered to stay out of trouble. The kender contented himself with studying the other customers.
He immediately noticed the hooded and cloaked stranger in the front of the Inn watching them intently as the conversation among the companions grew heated. Tanis raised his voice, and the word «Qualinesti» rang out again. The stranger set down his mug of ale with a thud. Tas was just about to call Tanis's attention to this when Tika came out of the kitchen and slammed food down in front of the draconians, skillfully avoiding their clawed hands. Then she walked back over to the group.
"Could I have some more potatoes?" Caramon asked.
"Of course." Tika smiled at him and picked up the skillet to return to the kitchen. Caramon felt Raistlin's eyes on him. He flushed and began to play with his fork.
"In Qualinest-" Tanis reiterated, his voice rising as he contested a point with Sturm who wanted to go north.
Tas saw the stranger in the corner rise and start walking toward them. "Tanis, company," the kender said softly.
The conversation ceased. Their eyes on their tankards, all of them could feel and hear the approach of the stranger. Tanis cursed himself for not noticing him sooner.
The draconians, however, had noticed the stranger. Just as he reached the creatures' table, one of the draconians stuck out its clawed foot. The stranger tripped over it, stumbling headlong into a nearby table. The creatures laughed loudly. Then a draconian caught a glimpse of the stranger's face.
"Elf!" the draconian hissed, pulling off the hood to reveal the almond-shaped eyes, slanted ears, and delicate, masculine features of an elflord.
"Let me pass," the elf said, backing up, his hands raised. "I was only going to exchange a word of greeting with these travelers."
"You'll exchange a word of greeting with the Fewmaster, elf," the draconian snarled. Jumping up and grabbing the stranger's cloak collar, the creature shoved the elf back up against the bar.
The other two draconians laughed loudly.
Tika, on her way back to the kitchen with the skillet, stalked over toward the draconians. "Stop this!" she cried, taking hold of one of the draconians by the arm. "Leave him alone. He's a paying customer. Same as you."
"Go about your business, girl!" The draconian shoved Tika aside, then grabbed the elf with a clawed hand and hit him, twice, across the face. The blows drew blood. When the draconian let go, the elf staggered, shook his head groggily.
"Ah, kill him," shouted one of the humans from the north.
"Make him screech, like the others!"
"I'll cut his slanty eyes out of his head, that's what I'll do!"
The draconian drew his sword.
"This has gone far enough!" Sturm rushed forward, the others behind him, though all feared there was little hope of saving the elf-they were too far from him. But help was closer. With a shrill cry of rage, Tika Waylan brought her heavy iron skillet down on the draconian's head.
There was a loud clunking sound. The draconian stared stupidly at Tika for an instant, then slithered to the floor. The elf jumped forward, drawing a knife as the other two draconians leaped for Tika. Sturm reached her side and clubbed one of the draconians with his sword. Caramon caught the other up in his great arms and tossed it over the bar.
"Riverwind! Don't let them out the door!" Tanis cried, seeing the hobgoblins leap up. The Plainsman caught one hobgoblin as it put its hand on the doorknob, but another escaped his grasp. They could hear it shouting for the guard.
Tika, still wielding her skillet, thunked a hobgoblin over the head. But another hobgoblin, seeing Caramon charge over, leaped out of the window.
Goldmoon rose to her feet. "Use your magic!" she said to Raistlin, grabbing him by the arm. "Do something!"
The mage looked at the woman coldly. "It is hopeless," he whispered. "I will not waste my strength."
Goldmoon glared at him in fury, but he had returned to his drink. Biting her lip, she ran over to Riverwind, the pouch with the precious Disks of Mishakal in her arms. She could hear horns blowing wildly in the streets.
"We've got to get out of here!" Tanis said, but at that moment one of the human fighters wrapped his arms around Tanis's neck, dragging him to the floor. Tasslehoff, with a wild shout, leaped onto the bar and began flinging mugs at the half-elf's attacker, narrowly missing Tanis in the process.
Flint stood in the midst of the chaos, staring at the elven stranger. "I know you!" he yelled suddenly. "Tanis, isn't this-"
A mug hit the dwarf in the head, knocking him cold.
"Oops," said Tas.
Tanis throttled the northerner and left him unconscious under a table. He grabbed Tas off the bar, set the kender on the floor, and knelt down beside Flint who was groaning and trying to sit up.
"Tanis, that elf-" Flint blinked groggily, then asked "What hit me?"
"That big guy, under the table!" Tas said pointing.
Tanis stood up and looked at the elf Flint indicated. "Gilthanas?"
The elf stared at him. "Tanthalas," he said coldly. "I would never have recognized you. That beard-"
Horns blew again, this time closer.
"Great Reorx!" The dwarf groaned, staggering to his feet. "We've got to get out of here! Come on! Out the back!"
"There is no back!" Tika cried wildly, still hanging onto the skillet.
"No," said a voice at the door. "There is no back. You are my prisoners."
A blaze of torchlight flared into the room. The companions shielded their eyes, making out the forms of hobgoblins behind a squat figure in the doorway. The companions could hear the sounds of flapping feet outside, then what seemed like a hundred goblins stared into the windows and peered in through the door. The hobgoblins inside the bar that were still alive or conscious picked themselves up and drew their weapons, regarding the companions hungrily.
"Sturm, don't be a fool!" Tanis cried, catching hold of the knight as he prepared to charge into the seething mass of goblins slowly forming a ring of steel around them. "We surrender," the half-elf called out.
Sturm glared at the half-elf in anger, and for a moment Tanis thought he might disobey.
"Please, Sturm," Tanis said quietly. "Trust me. This is not our time to die."
Sturm hesitated, glanced around at the goblins crowding inside the Inn. They stood back, fearful of his sword and his skill, but he knew they would charge in a rush if he made the slightest move. "It is not our time to die." What odd words. Why had Tanis said them? Did a man ever have a "time to die"?
If so, Sturm realized, this-wasn't it-not if he could help it. There was no glory dying in an Inn, trampled by stinking, flapping goblin feet.