‘Never speak of that to me!’ she said through clenched teeth and white lips. ‘Never speak of him!’
‘But last night—’ Tanis faltered, astonished, putting his hand to his burning cheek.
‘Last night never happened,’ Alhana said. ‘I was weak, tired, frightened. As I was when...when I met Stur—the knight. I regret speaking of him to you. I regret telling you of the Starjewel.’
‘Do you regret giving it to him?’ Tanis asked.
‘I regret the day I set foot in Tarsis,’ Alhana said in a low, passionate voice. ‘I wish I had never gone there! Never!’ She turned away abruptly, leaving Tanis to dark thoughts.
The companions had just reached the river, within sight of the tall Tower of the Stars, shining like a strand of pearls twisting into the sun, when the griffons suddenly halted their flight. Tanis, glancing ahead, could see no sign of danger. But their griffons continued to descend rapidly.
Indeed, it seemed hard to believe that Silvanesti had been under attack. There were no thin columns of campfire smoke rising into the air, as there would be if the draconians occupied the country. The land was not blackened and ruined. He could see, below him, the green of the aspens gleaming in the sunlight. Here and there, the marble buildings dotted the forest with their white splendor.
‘No!’ Alhana spoke to the griffons in elven. ‘I command you! Keep going! I must reach the Tower!’
But the griffons circled lower and lower, ignoring her.
‘What is it?’ Tanis asked. ‘Why are we stopping? We’re in sight of the Tower. What’s the matter?’ He looked all around. ‘I see nothing to be concerned over.’
‘They refuse to go on,’ Alhana said, her face drawn with worry. ‘They won’t tell me why, only that we must travel on our own from here. I don’t understand this.’
Tanis didn’t like it. Griffons were known as fierce, independent creatures, but once their loyalty was gained, they served their masters with undying devotion. The elven royalty of Silvanesti have always tamed griffons for their use. Though smaller than dragons, the griffons’ lightning speed, sharp talons, tearing beak, and lion-clawed hind feet made them enemies to be respected. There was little they feared on Krynn, so Tanis had heard. These griffons, he remembered, had flown into Tarsis through swarms of dragons without apparent fear.
Yet now the griffons were obviously afraid. They landed on the banks of the river, refusing all of Alhana’s angry, imperious commands to fly farther. Instead, they moodily preened themselves and steadfastedly refused to obey.
Finally there was nothing for the companions to do but climb off the griffons’ backs and unload their supplies. Then the bird-lion creatures, with fierce, apologetic dignity, spread their wings and soared away.
‘Well, that is that,’ said Alhana sharply, ignoring the angry glances she felt cast at her. ‘We shall simply have to walk, that’s all. The way is not far.’
The companions stood stranded upon the riverbank, staring across the sparkling water into the forest beyond. None of them spoke. All of them were tense, alert, searching for trouble. But all they saw were the aspen trees glistening in the last, lingering rays of sunset. The river murmured as it lapped on the shore. Though the aspens were green still, the silence of winter blanketed the land.
‘I thought you said your people fled because they were under siege?’ Tanis said to Alhana finally.
‘If this land is under control of dragons, I’m a gully dwarf!’ Caramon snorted.
‘We were!’ Alhana answered, her eyes scanning the sunlit forest. ‘Dragons filled the skies—as in Tarsis! The dragonmen entered our beloved woods, burning, destroying—’ Her voice died.
Caramon leaned near Riverwind and muttered, ‘Wild goose chase!’
The Plainsman scowled. ‘If it’s nothing more than that, we’ll be fortunate,’ he said, his eyes on the elfmaid. ‘Why did she bring us here? Perhaps it’s a trap.’
Caramon considered this a moment, then glanced uneasily at his brother, who had not spoken or moved or taken his strange eyes from the forest since the griffons left. The big warrior loosened his sword in its scabbard and moved a step nearer Tika. Almost accidentally, it seemed, their two hands clasped. Tika cast a fearful look at Raistlin but held onto Caramon tightly.
The mage just stared fixedly into the wilderness.
‘Tanis!’ Alhana said suddenly, forgetting herself in her joy and putting her hand on his arm. ‘Maybe it worked! Maybe my father defeated them, and we can come home! Oh, Tanis—’ She trembled with excitement. ‘We’ve got to cross the river and find out! Come! The ferry landing’s down around the bend—’
‘Alhana, wait!’ Tanis called, but she was already running along the smooth, grassy bank, her long full skirts fluttering around her ankles. ‘Alhana! Damn it. Caramon and Riverwind, go after her. Goldmoon, try to talk some sense into her.’
Riverwind and Caramon exchanged uneasy glances, but they did as Tanis ordered, running along the riverbank after Alhana. Goldmoon and Tika followed more slowly.
‘Who knows what’s in these woods?’ Tanis muttered. ‘Raistlin—’
The mage did not seem to hear. Tanis moved closer. ‘Raistlin?’ he repeated, seeing the mage’s abstracted stare.
Raistlin stared at him blankly, as if waking from a dream. Then the mage became aware of someone speaking to him. He lowered his eyes.
‘What is it, Raistlin?’ Tanis asked. ‘What do you sense?’
‘Nothing, Tanis,’ the mage replied.
Tanis blinked. ‘Nothing?’ he repeated.
‘It is like an impenetrable fog, a blank wall,’ Raistlin whispered. ‘I see nothing, sense nothing.’
Tanis stared at him intently, and suddenly he knew Raistlin was lying. But why? The mage returned the half-elf’s gaze with equanimity, even a small, twisted smile on his thin lips, as if he knew Tanis didn’t believe him but really didn’t care.
‘Raistlin,’ Tanis said softly, ‘suppose Lorac, the elfking, tried to use the dragon orb—what would happen?’
The mage lifted his eyes to stare into the forest. ‘Do you think that is possible?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Tanis said, ‘from what little Alhana told me, during the Tests in the Tower of High Sorcery at Istar, a dragon orb spoke to Lorac, asking him to rescue it from the impending disaster.’
‘And he obeyed it?’ Raistlin asked, his voice as soft as the murmuring water of the ancient river.
‘Yes. He brought it to Silvanesti.’
‘So this is the dragon orb of Istar,’ Raistlin whispered. His eyes narrowed, and then he sighed, a sigh of longing. ‘I know nothing about the dragon orbs,’ he remarked, coolly, ‘except what I told you. But I know this, Half-Elf—none of us will come out of Silvanesti unscathed, if we come out at all.’
‘What do you mean? What danger is there?’
‘What does it matter what danger I see?’ Raistlin asked, folding his hands in the sleeves of his red robes. ‘We must enter Silvanesti. You know it as well as I. Or will you forego the chance to find a dragon orb?’
‘But if you see danger, tell us! We could at least enter prepared—’ Tanis began angrily.
‘Then prepare,’ Raistlin whispered softly, and he turned away and began to walk slowly along the sandy beach after his brother.
The companions crossed the river just as the last rays of the sun flickered among the leaves of the aspens on the opposite bank. And then the fabled forest of Silvanesti was gradually swamped lay darkness. ‘The shadows of night flowed among the feet of the trees like the dark water flowing beneath the keel of the ferry boat.
Their journey was slow. The ferry—an ornately-carved, flat-bottomed boat connected to both shores by an elaborate system of ropes and pulleys—seemed at first to be in good condition. But once they set foot on board and began to cross the ancient river, they discovered that the ropes were rotting. The boat began to decay before their eyes. The river itself seemed to change. Reddish-brown water seeped through the hull, tainted with the faint swell of blood.