“I noticed,” said Tanis, “and I still maintain that breaking our engagement was the right thing to do—for her sake, not mine.”
“If you believe that, then let her go.”
“I’m not holding onto her,” Tanis returned heatedly.
He’d spoken too loudly. Eyes turned his way, including the almond-shaped eyes of Laurana’s brother, Gilthanas. Hederick heard him too and paused, offended.
“Do you have something to say, Half-Elven?” Hederick asked reproachfully.
“Oh, Tanis, now you’re in trouble!” Caramon sniggered.
Feeling like an errant school boy who has been called to the front of the class, Tanis mumbled something in apology and retreated back into the shadows. Everyone smiled knowingly, then turned back to listen to Hederick’s speech, except Gilthanas, who regarded Tanis with stern disapproval.
Once, many years ago, Gilthanas had been Tanis’s friend. Then Tanis had made the mistake of falling in love with Laurana, and that had ended his friendship with her brother. To make matters worse, Tanis had recently suspected and even accused Gilthanas of being a spy. Tanis had been proven wrong, and he’d made an apology, but Gilthanas found it hard to forgive the fact that Tanis had suspected him capable of such a crime. Tanis wondered irritably if there were any additional means by which he could make his life more complicated.
Then Sturm Brightblade walked to him, and Tanis smiled and relaxed. Thank goodness for Sturm. The Solamnic knight, intent on the politics of the situation, was oblivious to all else.
“Are you listening to this great idiot?” Sturm demanded. “The man talks about building houses in this valley. Even a town hall! Apparently he has forgotten that only weeks before we were fleeing for our lives.”
“I’m listening,” said Tanis, “and so are they, more’s the pity.” Many in the crowd were smiling and murmuring assent. Hederick’s word-picture of a cozy winter spent in this peaceful place was an attractive one. Tanis felt a twinge of remorse. He’d been thinking much the same himself. Perhaps it was his talk with Raistlin last night or his talk with Riverwind this morning, but Tanis was growing increasingly uneasy. The valley seemed no longer a place of peace and beauty. He felt trapped here. Thinking of Raistlin, he looked over at the mage to see his reaction.
Raistlin sat upon a blanket spread for him on the ground by his brother. He cradled his magical staff in his arms. His gaze was abstracted, turned inward. He did not appear to be listening. Hederick closed by saying that when spring came, the refugees would continue their journey to Tarsis, the city by the sea, where they would find a ship to take them far from this war-torn land.
“Some place where humans can reside in peace,” Hederick concluded, laying emphasis on that word. “Some place far from those sorts of people known to cause trouble and strife in the world.”
“What sorts of people is he talking about?” Tas asked, interested.
“Elves,” said Tanis, scratching his beard.
“Dwarves,” growled Flint.
“And kender,” said Caramon, giving Tas’s topknot a playful tweak that made the kender yelp. Hederick glanced in their direction and pursed his lips in disapproval, then looked out upon the audience as much as to say, “See what I mean?”
With that, he retired to great applause.
“What a short memory he has,” Sturm remarked. He smoothed the long mustaches that were the hallmark of a Solamnic knight and Sturm’s pride, along with his father’s sword and armor, the only legacy his father had left him. “Elves and a dwarf helped save his miserable life!”
“And a kender!” Tas added indignantly.
“Maybe Elistan will remind him of that,” Tanis said, as the Revered Son of Paladine stepped forward.
“The gods of good hold back the darkness,” Elistan stated, “as they hold back the snows that must soon blanket this valley, but winter will come and so too will the forces of evil.” Hederick interrupted him.
“If, as you say, Revered Son, your god, Paladine, and the other gods of Light have protected us in the past, can’t we be assured that they will continue to protect us in the future?” the High Theocrat asked.
“The gods have helped us, that is true,” said Elistan, “and they will continue to help us, but we must do our part. We are not babes in arms, whose every need has to be met by the parents. We are grown men and women. We have free will, a gift given to us by the gods. We have the ability to make choices—”
“And we choose to remain here in this valley,” said Hederick. This drew a laugh and applause.
Flint nudged Tanis with his elbow. “Look there,” he said urgently, pointing. The Plainsmen were leaving. They had turned their backs on the speakers and on their fellow refugees and were walking out of the grove. Riverwind and Goldmoon remained, seemingly reluctant to leave, but then, with a shake of his head, Riverwind walked off. He said something to Goldmoon, but she did not immediately follow him. She sent her searching gaze through the crowd until she found Tanis.
Goldmoon looked at him long, and he saw in her sad smile an apology. Then, she, too, turned her back and went to be with her husband. Both left to join their people.
By now, everyone in the crowd was watching the Plainsmen depart. Some cried, “Good riddance,” but others stated that it was a shame to let them leave in anger. Elistan tried to say something, but the clamor in the crowd drowned him out. Hederick stood in the background, smiling contentedly.
Raistlin was at Tanis’s elbow, plucking at his sleeve. Tanis could smell the fragrance of dried rose petals emanating from the young mage’s pouch of spell components that he wore on a belt around his waist. Tanis could also smell the scent of decay that lingered about Raistlin, a scent the sweet perfume of roses could never quite mask. Rose petals were not the only spell components the mage carried. Some were far less pleasant.
“Something is wrong,” Raistlin said urgently. “Don’t you feel it?” He gave a sudden hiss. His hand seized hold of Tanis’s arm, the long, slender fingers digging painfully into Tanis’s flesh.
“Raistlin,” said Tanis irritably, “this is no time for—”
“Hush!” Raistlin raised his head, as though listening. “Where is the kender? Quickly! I need him!”
“You do?” Tasslehoff cried, amazed. “Excuse me,” he added importantly, stepping on Flint’s toes. “I have to get by. Raistlin needs me—”
“You have the sharpest eyes among us,” said Raistlin, grasping hold of the kender. “Look into the sky! Swiftly. What do you see?”
Tas did as he was told, craning his neck and peering up into the sky, nearly tumbling over backward in the process.
“I see a white cloud that looks like a rabbit. There, do you see it, Caramon? It has long ears and a puffy tail and—”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Raistlin snarled, giving Tas a shake that snapped his head back. “Keep looking!”
“It might help if I knew what I was looking for,” Tas pointed out meekly.
“That mage shivers my skin,” said Flint, scowling and rubbing his arms.
“It’s not him,” said Tanis. “I feel it, too. Sturm!” he called, looking about for the knight. Sturm had been standing in the shadows of an oak, keeping himself apart from the others, especially Raistlin. The serious-minded knight, who lived by the code, Est Sularas est Mithos, “My honor is my life,” had grown up with Raistlin and his brother, and though Sturm liked Caramon, the knight had never liked nor trusted his twin.
“I sense it as well,” Sturm said.
An uneasy silence had fallen over the crowd. People turned this way and that, searching for the cause of the pricklings of fear that tingled in their arms and raised goose bumps on their flesh. The Plainspeople had halted and were gazing skyward. Riverwind had his hand on the hilt of his sword.