‘And you did as he said? He was your leader, even then?’ She looked back to remember him as she had known him before he left Qualinost, beardless and lacking the lines of care and worry she saw now on his face. But even then he was withdrawn and brooding, tormented by his feelings of belonging to both races—and to neither. She hadn’t understood him then. Only now, after living in a world of humans, was she beginning to.
‘He has the qualities we are told are essential for leadership. He is quick-thinking, intelligent, creative. But most of us possess these—in greater or lesser degree. Why do the others follow Tanis? Sturm is of noble blood, member of an order whose roots go back to ancient times. Why does he obey a bastard half-elf? And Riverwind? He distrusts all who are not human and half who are. Yet he and Goldmoon both would follow Tanis to the Abyss and back. Why?’
‘I have wondered,’ Laurana began, ‘and I think—’
But Raistlin, ignoring her, answered his own question. ‘Tanis listens to his feelings. He does not suppress them, as does the knight, or hide them, as does the Plainsman. Tanis realizes that sometimes a leader must think with his heart and not his head.’ Raistlin glanced at her. ‘Remember that.’
Laurana blinked, confused for a moment, then, sensing a tone of superiority in the mage which irritated her, she said loftily, ‘I notice you leave out yourself. If you are as intelligent and powerful as you claim, why do you follow Tanis?’
Raistlin’s hourglass eyes were dark and hooded. He stopped talking as Caramon brought his twin a cup and carefully poured water from the kettle. The warrior glanced at Laurana, his face dark, embarrassed and uncomfortable as always whenever his brother went on like this.
Raistlin did not seem to notice. Pulling a pouch from his pack, he sprinkled some green leaves into the hot water. A pungent, acrid smell filled the room. ‘I do not follow him.’ The young mage looked up at Laurana. ‘For the time being, Tanis and I simply happen to be traveling in the same direction.’
‘The Knights of Solamnia are not welcome in our city,’ the Lord said sternly, his face serious. His dark gaze swept the rest of the company. ‘Nor are elves, kender, or dwarves, or those who travel in their company. I understand you also have a magic-user with you, one who wears the red robes. You wear armor. Your weapons are blood-stained and come quickly and readily to your hands. Obviously you are skilled warriors.’
‘Mercenaries, undoubtedly, milord,’ the constable said.
‘We are not mercenaries,’ Sturm said, coming to stand before the bench, his bearing proud and noble. ‘We come out of the northern Plains of Abanasinia. We freed eight hundred men, women, and children from the Dragon Highlord, Verminaard, in Pax Tharkas. Fleeing the wrath of the dragonarmies, we left the people hidden in a valley in the mountains and traveled south, hoping to find ships in the legendary city of Tarsis. We did not know it was landlocked, or we would not have bothered.’
The Lord frowned. ‘You say you came from the north? That is impossible. No one has ever come safely through the mountain kingdom of the dwarves in Thorbardin.’
‘If you know aught of the Knights of Solamnia, you know we would die sooner than tell a lie—even to our enemies,’ Sturm said. ‘We entered the dwarven kingdom and won safe passage by finding and restoring to them the lost Hammer of Kharas.’
The Lord shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the draconian who sat behind him. ‘I do know somewhat of the knights,’ he said reluctantly. ‘And therefore I must believe your story, though it sounds more a child’s bedtime tale than—’
Suddenly the doors banged open and two guards strode in, roughly dragging a prisoner between them. They thrust the companions aside as they flung their prisoner to the floor. The prisoner was a woman. Heavily veiled, she was dressed in long skirts and a heavy cape. She lay for a moment on the floor, as if too tired or defeated to rise. Then, seeming to make a supreme effort of will, she started to push herself up. Obviously no one was going to assist her. The Lord stared at her, his face grim and scowling. The draconian behind him had risen to its feet and was looking down at her with interest. The woman struggled, entangled in her cape and her long, flowing skirts.
Then Sturm was at her side.
The knight had watched in horror, appalled at this callous treatment of a woman. He glanced at Tanis, saw the ever-cautious half-elf shake his head, but the sight of the woman making a gallant effort to rise proved too much for the knight. He took a step forward, and found a hauberk thrust in front of him.
‘Kill me if you will,’ the knight said to the guard, ‘but I am going to the aid of the lady.’
The guard blinked and stepped back, his eyes looking up at the Lord for orders. The Lord shook his head slightly. Tanis, watching closely, held his breath. Then he thought he saw the Lord smile, quickly covering it with his hand.
‘My lady, allow me to assist you,’ Sturm said with the courtly, old-fashioned politeness long lost in the world. His strong hands gently raised her to her feet.
‘You had better leave me, sir knight,’ the woman said, her words barely audible from behind her veil. But at the sound of her voice, Tanis and Gilthanas gasped softly, glancing at each other. ‘You do not know what you do,’ she said. ‘You risk your life—’
‘It is my privilege to do so,’ Sturm said, bowing. Then he stood near her protectively, his eyes on the guards.
‘She is Silvanesti elven!’ Gilthanas whispered to Tanis. ‘Does Sturm know?’
‘Of course not,’ Tanis said softly. ‘How could he? I barely recognized her accent myself.’
‘What could she be doing here? Silvanesti is far away—’
‘I—’ Tanis began, but one of the guards shoved him in the back. He fell silent just as the Lord started to speak.
‘Lady Alhana,’ he said in a cold voice, ‘you were warned to leave this city. I was merciful last time you came before me because you were on a diplomatic mission from your people, and protocol is still honored in Tarsis. I told you then, however, you could expect no help from us and gave you twenty-four hours to depart. Now I find you still here.’ He looked over at the guards. ‘What is the charge?’
‘Trying to buy mercenaries, milord,’ the constable replied. ‘She was picked up in an inn along the Old Waterfront, milord.’ The constable gave Sturm a scathing glance. ‘It was a good thing she didn’t meet up with this lot. Of course, no one in Tarsis would aid an elf.’
‘Alhana,’ Tanis muttered to himself. He edged over to Gilthanas. ‘Why is that name familiar?’
‘Have you been gone from your people so long you do not recognize the name?’ the elf answered softly in elven. ‘There was only one among our Silvanesti cousins called Alhana. Alhana Starbreeze, daughter of the Speaker of the Stars, princess of her people, ruler when her father dies, for she has no brothers.’
‘Alhana!’ Tanis said, memories coming back to him. The elven people were split hundreds of years before, when Kith-Kanan led many of the elves to the land of Qualinesti following the bitter Kinslayer Wars. But the elven leaders still kept in contact in the mysterious manner of the elflords who, it is said, can read messages in the wind and speak the language of the silver moon. Now he remembered Alhana—of all elfmaidens reputed to be the most beautiful, and distant as the silver moon that shone on her birth.
The draconian leaned down to confer with the Lord. Tanis saw the man’s face darken, and it seemed as if he was about to disagree, then he bit his lip and, sighing, nodded his head. The draconian melted back into the shadows once more.