"It wasn't," Tanis said, swallowing. "I'm going to be honest, Gilthanas-I love her, I really do. It's just that-"
"Please, say no more. Let us leave it as it is and perhaps, if we cannot be friends, we can at least respect each other." Gilthanas's face was drawn and pale in the setting sun. "You and your friends must prepare yourselves. When the silver moon rises, there will be a feast, and then the High Council meeting. Now is the time when decisions must be made."
He left. Tanis stared after him a moment, then, sighing, went to wake the others.
7
Farewell. The companions' decision
The feast held in Qualinost reminded Goldmoon of her mother's funeral banquet. Like the feast, the funeral was supposed to be a joyous occasion-after all, Tearsong had become a goddess. But the people found it difficult to accept the death of this beautiful woman. And so the Que-shu mourned her passing with a grief that approached blasphemy.
Tearsong's funeral banquet was the most elaborate to be given in the memory of the Que-shu. Her grieving husband had spared no expense. Like the banquet in Qualinost on this night, there was a great deal of food which few could eat. There were half-hearted attempts at conversation when no one wanted to talk. Occasionally someone, overcome with sorrow, was forced to leave the table.
So vivid was this memory that Goldmoon could eat little; the food was ash in her mouth. Riverwind regarded her with concern. His hand found hers beneath the table and she gripped it hard, smiling as his strength flowed into her body.
The elven feast was held in the courtyard just south of the great golden tower. There were no walls about the platform of crystal and marble which sat atop the highest hill in Qualinost, offering an unobstructed view of the glittering city below, the dark forest beyond, and even the deep purple edge of the Tharkadan Mountains far to the south. But the beauty was lost on those in attendance, or made more poignant by the knowledge that soon it would be gone forever.
Goldmoon sat at the right hand of the Speaker. He tried to make polite conversation, but eventually his worries and concerns overwhelmed him and he fell silent.
To the Speaker's left sat his daughter, Laurana. She made no pretense at eating, just sat with her head bowed, her long hair flowing around her face. When she did look up, it was to gaze at Tanis, her heart in her eyes.
The half-elf, very much aware of the heart-broken stare as well as of Gilthanas eyeing him coldly, ate his food without appetite, his eyes fixed on his plate. Sturm, next to him, was drawing up in his mind plans for the defence of Qualinesti.
Flint felt strange and out of place as dwarves always feel among elves. He didn't like elven food anyway and refused everything. Raistlin nibbled at his food absently, his golden eyes studying Fizban. Tika, feeling awkward and out of place among the graceful elven women, couldn't eat a morsel. Caramon decided he knew why elves were so slender: the food consisted of fruit and vegetables, cooked in delicate sauces, served with bread and cheeses and a very light, spicy wine. After starving for four days in the cage, the food did nothing to satisfy the big warrior's hunger.
The only two in the entire city of Qualinost to enjoy the feast were Tasslehoff and Fizban. The old magician carried on a one sided argument with an aspen, while Tasslehoff simply enjoyed everything, discovering later-to his surprise-that two golden spoons, a silver knife, and a butter dish made of a seashell had wandered into one of his pouches.
The red moon was not visible. Luniatari, a slim band of silver in the sky, began to wane. As the first stars appeared, the Speaker of the Suns nodded sadly at his son. Gilthanas rose and moved to stand next to his father's chair.
Gilthanas began to sing. The elven words flowed into a melody delicate and beautiful. As he sang, Gilthanas held a small crystal lamp in both hands, the candlelight within illuminating his marble features. Tanis, listening to the song, closed his eyes; his head sank into his hands.
"What is it? What do the words mean?" Sturm asked softly.
Tanis raised his head. His voice breaking, he whispered,
"I will go to Pax Tharkas," Tanis said softly. "But I believe it is time now that we separate, my friends. Before you speak, let me say this. I would send Tika, Goldmoon, Riverwind, Caramon and Raistlin, and you, Fizban, with the elves in hopes that you may carry the Disks to safety. The Disks are too precious to risk on a raid into Pax Tharkas."
"That may be, Half-Elf," Raistlin whispered from the depths of his cowl, "but it is not among the Qualinesti elves that Goldmoon will find the one she seeks."
"How do you know?" Tanis asked, startled.
"He doesn't know anything, Tanis," Sturm interrupted bitterly. "More talk-"
"Raistlin?" Tanis repeated, ignoring Sturm.
"You heard the knight!" the mage hissed. "I know nothing!"
Tanis sighed, letting it go, and glanced around. "You named me your leader-"
"Aye, we did, lad," said Flint suddenly. "But this decision is coming from your head-not your heart. Deep inside, you don't really believe we should split up."
"Well, I'm not staying with these elves," Tika said, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm going with you, Tanis. I plan to become a swordswoman, like Kitiara."
Tanis winced. Hearing Kitiara's name was like a physical blow.
"I will not hide with elves," Riverwind said, "especially if it means leaving my kind behind to fight for me."
"He and I are one," Goldmoon said, putting her hand on his arm. "Besides," she said more softly, "somehow I know that what the mage says is true-the leader is not among the elves. They want to flee the world, not fight for it."
"We're all going, Tanis," Flint said firmly.
The half-elf looked helplessly around at the group, then he smiled and shook his head. "You're right. I didn't truly believe we should separate. It's the sensible, logical thing to do, of course, which is why we won't do it."
"Now maybe we can get some sleep." Fizban yawned.
"Wait a minute. Old One," Tanis said sternly. "You are not one of us. You're definitely going with the elves."
"Am I?" the old mage asked softly as his eyes lost their vague, unfocused look. He stared at Tanis with such a penetrating-almost menacing-gaze that the half-elf involuntarily took a step back, suddenly sensing an almost palpable aura of power surrounding the old man. His voice was soft and intense. "I go where I choose in this world, and I choose to go with you, Tanis Half-Elven."
Raistlin glanced at Tanis as if to say. Now you understand! Tanis, irresolute, returned the glance. He regretted putting off discussing this with Raistlin, but wondered how they could confer now, knowing the old man would not leave.
"I speak you this, Raistlin," Tanis said suddenly, using Camptalk, a corrupted form of Common developed among the racially mixed mercenaries of Krynn. The twins had done a bit of mercenary work in their time-as had most of the companions-in order to eat. Tanis knew Raistlin would understand. He was fairly certain the old man wouldn't.
"We talk if want," Raistlin answered in the same language, "but little know I."
"You fear. Why?"
Raistlin's strange eyes stared far away as he answered slowly. "I know not, Tanis. But-you right. There power be, within Old One. I feel great power. I fear." His eyes gleamed. "And I hunger!" The mage sighed and seemed to return from wherever it was he had been. "But he right. Try to stop him? Very much danger."
"As if there wasn't enough already," Tanis said bitterly, switching back to Common. "We take our own in with us in the form of a doddering old magician."