Downstairs, in the lower rooms of the castle, she could still hear the sounds of merrymaking she had just left. It was nearly midnight. She had been trying for two hours to escape. It finally took Lord Michael’s intercession on her behalf— pleading her exhaustion from the battles—that induced the lords and ladies of the city of Kalaman to part with her.
Her head ached from the stuffy atmosphere, the smell of strong perfume, and too much wine. She shouldn’t have drunk so much, she knew. She had a weak head for wine and, anyway, she didn’t really like it. But the pain in her head was easier to bear than the pain in her heart.
Throwing herself down on the bed, she thought hazily about getting up and closing the shutters, but the moon’s light was comforting. Laurana detested lying in the darkness. Things lurked in the shadows, ready to spring out at her. I should get undressed, she thought, I’ll wrinkle this dress... and it’s borrowed...
There was a knock at her door.
Laurana woke with a start, trembling. Then she remembered where she was. Sighing, she lay very still, closing her eyes again. Surely they’d realize she was asleep and go away.
There was another knock, more insistent than the first.
“Laurana...”
“Tell me in the morning, Tas,” Laurana said, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.
“It’s important, Laurana,” Tas called. “Flint’s with me.”
Laurana heard a scuffling sound outside the door.
“Come on, tell her—”
“I will not! This was your doing!”
“But he said it was important and I—”
“All right, I’m coming!” Laurana sighed. Stumbling out of bed, she fumbled for the key on the table, unlocked the door, and flung it open.
“Hi, Laurana!” Tas said brightly, walking inside. “Wasn’t that a wonderful party? I’ve never eaten roast peacock before—”
“What is it, Tas?” Laurana sighed, shutting the door behind them.
Seeing her pale, drawn face, Flint poked the kender in the back. Giving the dwarf a reproachful look, Tas reached into the pocket of his fleecy vest and drew forth a rolled scroll of parchment, tied with a blue ribbon.
“A-a cleric—sort of—said to give this to you, Laurana,” Tas said.
“Is that all?” Laurana asked impatiently, snatching the scroll from the kender’s hand. “It’s probably a marriage proposal. I’ve had twenty in the last week. Not to mention proposals of a more unique nature.”
“Oh, no,” said Tas, suddenly serious. “It’s not anything like that, Laurana. It’s from—” He stopped.
“How do you know who it’s from?” Laurana fixed the kender with a piercing gaze.
“I-uh-guess I—sort of—glanced at it—” Tas admitted. Then he brightened. “But it was only because I didn’t want to bother you with anything that wasn’t important.”
Flint snorted.
“Thank you,” Laurana said. Unrolling the scroll, she walked over to stand by the window where the moonlight was bright enough to read by.
“We’ll leave you alone,” Flint said gruffly, herding the protesting kender toward the door.
“No! Wait!” Laurana choked. Flint turned, staring at her in alarm.
“Are you all right?” he said, hurrying over to her as she sank down into a nearby chair. “Tas—get Silvara!”
“No, no. Don’t bring anyone. I’m... all right. Do you know what this says?” she asked in a whisper.
“I tried to tell him,” Tasslehoff said in an injured voice, “but he wouldn’t let me.”
Her hand shaking, Laurana handed the scroll to Flint.
The dwarf opened it and read aloud.
“Tanis Half-Elven received a wound in the battle of Vingaard Keep. Although at first he believed it was slight, it has worsened so that he is past even the help of the dark clerics. I ordered that he be brought to Dargaard Keep, where I could care for him. Tanis knows the gravity of his injury. He asks that he be allowed to be with you when he dies, that he may explain matters to you and so rest with an easy spirit.
“I make you this offer. You have as your captive my officer, Bakaris, who was captured near Vingaard Keep. I will exchange Tanis Half-Elven for Bakaris. The exchange will take place at dawn tomorrow in a grove of trees beyond the city walls. Bring Bakaris with you. If you are mistrustful, you may also bring Tanis’s friends, Flint Fireforge and Tasslehoff Burr-foot. But no one else! The bearer of this note waits outside the city gate. Meet him tomorrow at sunrise. If he deems all is well, he will escort you to the half-elf. If not, you will never see Tanis alive.
“I do this only because we are two women who understand each other.
“Kitiara”
There was an uneasy silence, then, “Humpf,” Flint snorted, and rolled up the scroll.
“How can you be so calm!” Laurana gasped, snatching the scroll from the dwarf’s hand. “And you"—her gaze switched angrily to Tasslehoff—“why didn’t you tell me before now? How long have you known? You read he was dying, and you’re so-so—”
Laurana put her head in her hands.
Tas stared at her, his mouth open. “Laurana,” he said after a moment, “surely you don’t think Tanis—”
Laurana’s head snapped up. Her dark, stricken eyes went to Flint, then to Tas. “You don’t believe this message is real do you?” she asked incredulously.
“Of course not!” Flint said.
“No,” scoffed Tas. “It’s a trick! A draconian gave it to me! Besides Kitiara’s a Dragon Highlord now. What would Tanis be doing with her—”
Laurana turned her face away abruptly. Tasslehoff stopped and glanced at Flint, whose own face suddenly seemed to age.
“So that’s it,” the dwarf said softly. “We saw you talking to Kitiara on the wall of the High Clerist’s Tower. You were discussing more than Sturm’s death, weren’t you?”
Laurana nodded, wordlessly, staring at her hands in her lap.
“I never told you,” she murmured in a voice barely audible, “I couldn’t... I kept hoping... Kitiara said . . . said she’d left Tanis in some place called Flotsam ... to look after things while she was gone.”
“Liar!” said Tas promptly.
“No.” Laurana shook her head. “When she says we are two women who understand each other, she’s right. She wasn’t lying. She was telling the truth, I know. And at the Tower she mentioned the dream.” Laurana lifted her head. “Do you remember the dream?”
Flint nodded uncomfortably. Tasslehoff shuffled his feet.
“Only Tanis could have told her about the dream we all shared,” Laurana continued, swallowing a choking feeling in her throat. “I saw him with her in the dream, just as I saw Sturm’s death. The dream’s coming true . . .”
“Now wait a minute,” Flint said gruffly, grabbing hold of reality as a drowning man grabs a piece of wood. “You said yourself you saw your own death in the dream, right after Sturm’s. And you didn’t die. And nothing hacked up Sturm’s body, either.”
“I haven’t died yet, like I did in the dream,” Tas said helpfully. “And I’ve picked lots of locks! Well, not lots, but a few here and there, and none were poisoned. Besides, Laurana, Tanis wouldn’t—”
Flint shot Tas a warning glance. The kender lapsed into silence. But Laurana had seen the glance and understood. Her lips tightened.
“Yes, he would. You both know it. He loves her.” Laurana was quiet a moment, then, “I’m going. I’ll exchange Bakaris.”
Flint heaved a sigh. He had seen this coming. “Laurana—”
“Wait a minute, Flint,” she interrupted. “If Tanis received a message saying you were dying, what would he do?”
“That’s not the point,” Flint mumbled.
“If he had to go into the Abyss itself, past a thousand dragons, he’d come to you—”