“Thank you again for your help,” Tanis said gratefully.
“Glad to be there,” the man said gruffly. “Just be wary. Next time you go out in one of them small boats, head for shore the first sign of a storm.”
“Err, yes, I’ll—we’ll do that,” Tanis said in some confusion. “Now, if you could just tell us where we are...”
“Yer north of the city,” the fisherman said, waving a hand. “About two-three miles. Davey can give ye a lift in the cart.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Tanis said, hesitating and glancing at the others. They returned his look, Caramon shrugging. “Uh, I know this sounds strange, but we—we were blown off course. What city are we north of?”
“Why, Kalaman, to be sure,” the fisherman said, eyeing them suspiciously.
“Oh!” said Tanis. Laughing weakly, he turned to Caramon. What did I tell you? We—uh—weren’t blown as far off course as you thought.”
“We weren’t?” Caramon said, his eyes open wide. “Oh, we weren’t,” he amended hastily as Tika dug her elbow into his ribs. “Yeah, I guess I was wrong, as usual. You know me, Tanis, never could get my bearings—”
“Don’t overdo it!” Riverwind muttered, and Caramon fell silent.
The fisherman gave them all a dark look. “Yer a strange bunch, no doubt,” he said. “You can’t remember how you came to smash up. Now you don’t even know where you are. I reckon you was all drunk, but that’s not my concern. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll none of you set foot in a boat again, drunk or sober. Davey, bring round the cart.”
Giving them a final, disgusted glance, the fisherman lifted his small son on his shoulder and went back to work. His older son disappeared, presumably going to fetch the cart.
Tanis sighed, looking around at his friends.
“Do any of you know how we got here?” he asked quietly. “Or why we’re dressed like this?”
One by one, they all shook their heads.
“I remember the Blood Sea and the maelstrom,” Goldmoon said. “But then the rest seems like something I dreamed.”
“I remember Raist...” Caramon said softly, his face grave. Then, feeling Tika’s hand slip through his, he looked down at her. His expression softened. “And I remember—”
“Hush,” Tika said, blushing, laying her cheek against his arm. Caramon kissed her red curls. “It wasn’t a dream,” she murmured.
“I remember a few things, too,” Tanis said grimly, looking at Berem. “But it’s disjointed, fragmented. None of it seems to go together right in my mind. Well, it’s no good looking back. We’ve got to look forward. We’ll go to Kalaman and find out what’s been happening. I don’t even know what day it is! Or month for that matter. Then—”
“Palanthas,” Caramon said. “We’ll go to Palanthas.”
“We’ll see,” Tanis said, sighing. Davey was returning with the cart, drawn by a bony horse. The half-elf looked at Caramon. “Are you really certain you want to find that brother of yours?” he asked quietly.
Caramon did not answer.
The companions arrived in Kalaman about mid-morning.
“What’s going on?” Tanis asked Davey as the young man drove the cart through the city streets. “Is there a festival?”
The streets were crowded with people. Most of the shops were closed and shuttered. Everyone stood around in small clumps, talking together in excited tones.
“It looks more like a funeral,” Caramon said. “Someone important must have died.”
“That—or war,” Tanis muttered. Women were weeping, men looked sorrowful or angry, children stood about, staring fearfully at their parents.
“Can’t be war, sir,” Davey said, “and Spring Dawning festival was two days ago. Don’t know what’s the matter. Just a minute. I can find out if you want,” he said, pulling the horse to a stop.
“Go ahead,” Tanis said. “Just a minute, though. Why can’t it be war?”
“Why, we’ve won the war!” Davey said, staring at Tanis in astonishment. “By the gods, sir, you musta been drunk if you don’t remember. The Golden General and the good dragons—”
“Oh, yes,” Tanis said hastily.
“I’ll stop in here, at the fish market,” Davey said, hopping down. “They’ll know.”
“We’ll come with you.” Tanis motioned the others.
“What’s the news?” Davey called, running up to a knot of men and women standing before a shop redolent with the odor of fresh fish.
Several men turned immediately, all speaking at once. Coming up behind the boy, Tanis caught only parts of the excited conversation. “Golden General captured!... City doomed... people fleeing. . . evil dragons . . .”
Try as they might, the companions could make nothing out of this. The people seemed reluctant to talk around strangers—giving them dark, mistrustful glances, especially seeing their rich clothing.
The companions thanked Davey once more for the ride into town, then left him among his friends. After a brief discussion, they decided to head for the marketplace, hoping to find out more details of what had happened. The crowds grew denser as they walked until they practically had to fight their way through the packed streets. People ran here and there, asking for the latest rumors, shaking their heads in despair. Occasionally they saw some citizens, their belongings hastily packed in bundles, heading for the city gates.
“We should buy weapons,” Caramon said grimly. “The news doesn’t sound good. Who do you suppose this ‘Golden General’ is, anyway? The people seem to think a lot of him if his disappearance throws them into this much turmoil.”
“Probably some Knight of Solamnia,” Tanis said. “And you’re right, we should buy weapons.” He put his hand to his belt. “Damn! I had a purse of funny-looking old gold coins, but it’s gone now! As if we didn’t have enough trouble...”
“Wait a minute!” Caramon grunted, feeling his belt. “Why! What the—My purse was here a second ago!” Whirling around, the big warrior caught a glimpse of small figure disappearing among the crush of people, a worn leather pouch in its hand. “Hey! You! That’s mine!” Caramon roared. Scattering people like straws in the wind, he leaped after the small thief. Reaching out a huge hand, he caught hold of a fleecy vest and plucked the squirming figure up off the street. “Now give me back—” The big warrior gasped. “Tasslehoff!”
“Caramon!” Tasslehoff cried.
Caramon dropped him in astonishment. Tasslehoff stared around wildly. “Tanis!” he shouted, seeing the half-elf coming through the crowd. “Oh, Tanis!” Running forward, Tas threw his arms around his friend. Burying his face in Tanis’s belt, the kender burst into tears.
The people of Kalaman lined the walls of their city. Just a few days before they had done the same thing, only then their mood had been festive as they watched the triumphant procession of knights and silver and golden dragons. Now they were quiet, grim with despair. They looked out over the plain as the sun rose to its zenith in the sky. Nearly noon. They waited silently.
Tanis stood next to Flint, his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. The old dwarf had nearly broken down at the sight of his friend.
It was a sad reunion. In hushed and broken voices, Flint and Tasslehoff took turns telling their friends what had happened since they were parted in Tarsis months ago. One would talk until overcome, then the other would carry on the story. Thus the companions heard of the discovery of the dragonlances, the destruction of the dragon orb, and Sturm’s death.
Tanis bowed his head, overwhelmed with sorrow at this news. For a moment, he couldn’t imagine the world without his noble friend. Seeing Tanis’s grief, Flint’s gruff voice went on to tell of Sturm’s great victory and the peace he had found in death.