“Conundrum,” said Tasslehoff in a quiet voice, “how are you coming with the Device of Time Journeying? Have you fixed it yet?”
“Devices? No time for devices now,” Conundrum said importantly. “I have this contraption about fixed.”
“Good,” said Tasslehoff.
Another Dark Knight came out of the Tower. She had red hair, cropped close to her head, and Tasslehoff recognized her. He’d seen her before, although he couldn’t recall where. The woman carried a body in her arms, and she moved very slowly and solemnly. At a shouted command from the minotaur, the other Knights halted their work and stood with their heads bowed.
The woman walked slowly to the wagon. Tas tried to see who it was the woman carried, but his view was blocked by the minotaur. The woman lowered the person gently into the wagon. She backed away and Tasslehoff had a clear view.
He’d assumed that the person was another Dark Knight, maybe one who’d been wounded. He was astonished to see that the person in the wagon was an old, old woman, and Tas knew immediately that the old woman was dead. He felt very sorry and wondered who she was. Some relation of the Dark Knight with the red hair, for she arranged the folds of the woman’s white gown around her and then brushed out with her fingers the woman’s long, flowing, silver-white hair.
“So Goldmoon used to brush out my hair, Galdar,” said the woman. Her words carried clearly in the still air. Much too clearly, as far as Tas concerned.
“Goldmoon.” Tas felt a lump of sadness rise up in his throat. “She is dead. Caramon, Palin ... Everyone I love is dead. And it’s my fault. I’m the one who should be dead.” The horses drawing the wagon shifted restlessly, as if anxious to leave. Tas glanced back at Conundrum. Only two tiny jewels remained to be stuck on somewhere.
“Why did we come here, Mina?” The minotaur’s booming voice could be heard clearly. “You have captured Solanthus, given the Solamnics a sound spanking and sent them running home to mama. The entire Solamnic nation is yours now. You have done what no one else has been able to do in the entire history of the world—”
“Not quite, Galdar,” Mina corrected him. “We must still take Sanction, and we must take it by the time of the Festival of the Eye.”
“The . . . festival?” The minotaur’s forehead wrinkled. “The Festival of the Eye. By my horns, I had almost forgotten that old celebration.” He grinned. “You are such a youngling, Mina, I’m surprised you know of it at all. It hasn’t been celebrated since the three moons vanished.”
“Goldmoon told me about the festival,” said Mina, gently stroking the dead woman’s wrinkled cheek. “That it was held on the night when all three moons—the red, the white, and the black—converged, forming the image of a great staring eye in the heavens. I should like to have seen that sight.”
“Among humans, it was a night for riot and revelry, or so I have heard. Among my people, the night was honored and reverenced,” Galdar stated, “for we believed the Eye to be the eye of Sargas, our god—former god,” he added hastily, with a sidelong glance at Mina. “Still, what has some old festival to do with capturing Sanction? The three moons are gone, and so is the eye of the gods.”
“There will be a festival, Galdar,” said Mina. “The Festival of the New Eye, the One Eye. We will celebrate the festival in the Temple of Huerzyd.”
“But the Temple of Huerzyd is in Sanction,” Galdar protested. “We are on the other side of the continent from Sanction, not to mention the fact that Sanction is firmly in control of the Solamnic Knights. When will the festival occur?”
“At the appointed time,” said Mina. “When the totem is assembled. When the red dragon falls from the skies.”
“Ugh,” Galdar grunted. “Then we should be marching to Sanction now and bringing with us an army. Yet we waste our time at this fell place.” He cast a glance of enmity at the Tower. “Our march will be further slowed if we must cart along the body of this old woman.” The bonfire roared and crackled. The flames leaped up the stone walls of the Tower, charring them. Smoke swirled about Galdar, who batted irritably at it, and drifted in through the window. Tas coughed, covered his mouth with his hand.
“I am commanded to bring the body of Goldmoon, princess of the Que-shu, bearer of the blue crystal staff, to Sanction, to the Temple of Huerzyd on the night of the Festival of the New Eye. There a great miracle will be performed, Galdar. Our journey will not be slowed. All will move as has been ordered. The One God will see to that.”
Mina raised her hands over the body of Goldmoon and lifted up her voice in prayer. Orangishyellow light radiated from her hands. Tas tried to look into the light to see what was happening, but the light was like tiny pieces of glass in his eyes, made them burn and hurt so that he was forced to shut them tight. Even then he could see the glare right through them. Mina’s praying ceased. The bright light slowly faded. Tasslehoff opened his eyes. The body of Goldmoon lay enshrined in a sarcophagus of golden amber. Encased in the amber, Goldmoon’s body was once again youthful, beautiful. She wore the white robes she had worn in life. Feathers adorned her hair, that was gold threaded with silver—yet all now held fast in amber. Tas felt the sick feeling in his stomach rise up into his throat. He choked and clutched the window ledge for support.
“This coffin you’ve created is very grand, Mina,” said Galdar, and the minotaur sounded exasperated, “but what do you plan to do with her? Cart her about as a monument to this One God? Exhibit her to the populace? We are not clerics. We are soldiers. We have a war too fight.” Mina stared at Galdar in silence, a silence so large and terrible that it absorbed into itself all sound, all light, snatched away the air they breathed. The awful silence of her fury withered Galdar, who shrank visibly before it.
“I’m sorry, Mina,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean—”
“Be thankful that I know you, Galdar,” said Mina. “I know that you speak from your heart, without thinking. But someday, you will go too far, and on that day I will no longer be able to protect you. This woman was more than mother to me. All I have done in the name of the One God, I have done for her.”
Mina turned to the sarcophagus, placed her hands upon the amber, and bent near to look at Goldmoon’s calm, still face. “You told me of the gods who had been but were no more. I went in search of them—for you!”
Mina’s voice trembled. “I brought the One God to you, . The One God gave you back your youth and your beauty. I thought you would be pleased. What did I do wrong? I don’t understand.” Mina’s hands stroked the amber coffin, as if smoothing out a blanket. She sounded bewildered.
“You will change your mind, dear Mother. You will come to understand... .”
“Mina . . .” Galdar said uneasily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Forgive me.” Mina nodded. She did not turn her head.
Galdar cleared his throat. “What are your orders concerning the kender?”
“Kender?” Mina repeated, only half-hearing him.
“The kender and the magical artifact. You said they were in the Tower.” Mina lifted her head. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Her face was pale, the amber eyes wide.
“The kender.” Her lips formed the words, but she did not speak them aloud. She frowned. “Yes, of course, go fetch him. Quickly! Make haste!”
“Do you know where he is, Mina?” Galdar asked hesitantly. “The Tower is immense, and there are many rooms.” . Mina raised her head, looked directly at Tas’s window, looked directly at Tas, and pointed.