“The Wind Captain’s Chair,” Caramon added, glaring at the gully dwarf sternly. “That’s what we heard one of the goblins call it.”
“That secret!” Rounce said solemnly. “Me not tell! Me make promise!”
Caramon growled so fiercely that Rounce went dead white beneath the dirt on his face, and Tas, afraid he was going to faint again, hurriedly interposed. “Pooh! I’ll bet he doesn’t know!” Tas said, winking at Caramon.
“Me do too know!” Rounce said loftily. “And you try trick to make me tell. Me not fall for stupid trick.”
Tas slumped back against the wall with a sigh. Caramon growled again, but the gully dwarf, cringing slightly, still stared at him with brave defiance. “Cross pigs not drag secret out of me!”
Rounce declared, folding his filthy arms across a grease-covered, food-spattered chest. There was a shattering crash from above, and the sound of draconian voices.
“Uh, Rounce,” Tanis murmured confidentially, squatting down beside the gully dwarf, “what is it exactly that you’re not supposed to tell?”
Rounce assumed a crafty look. “Me not supposed to tell that the Wind Captains Chair in top of middle tower. That’s what me not supposed to tell!” He scowled at Tanis viciously and raised a small, clenched fist. “And you can’t make me!”
They reached the corridor leading to the room where the Wind Captains Chair wasn’t located (according to Rounce, who had been guiding them the entire way by saying, “This not door that lead to stair that lead to secret place”). They entered it cautiously, thinking that things had been just a little too quiet. They were right. About halfway down the corridor, a door burst open. Twenty draconians, followed by the Bozak magic-user, lunged out at them.
“Get behind me!” Tanis said, drawing his sword. “I’ve still got the bracelet—” Remembering Tas was with them, he added, “I think,” and glanced hurriedly at his arm. The bracelet was still there.
“Tanis,” said Caramon, drawing his sword and falling back slowly as the draconians, waiting for instructions from the Bozak, hesitated, “we’re running out of time! I know! I can sense it! I’ve got to get to the Tower of High Sorcery! Someone’s got to get up there and fly this thing!”
“One of us can’t hold off this many!” Tanis returned. “That doesn’t leave anyone to operate the Wind Captain—” The words died on his lips. He stared at Caramon. “Oh, you’re not serious—”
“We don’t have any choice,” Caramon growled as the sound of chanting filled the air. He glanced back at Tasslehoff.
“No,” Tanis began, “absolutely not—”
“There’s no other way!” Caramon insisted.
Tanis sighed, shaking his head.
The kender, watching both of them, blinked in confusion. Then, suddenly, he understood.
“Oh, Caramon!” he breathed, clasping his hands together, barely avoiding skewering himself with his knife. “Oh, Tanis! How wonderful! I’ll make you proud of me! I’ll get you to the Tower! You wont be sorry! Rounce, I’m going to need your help.”
Grabbing the gully dwarf by the arm, Tas raced along the corridor toward a spiral staircase Rounce was pointing out, insisting that, “This stair not take you to secret place!”
Designed by Lord Ariakas, formerly head of the Dark Queen’s forces during the War of the Lance, the Wind Captain’s Chair that operates a floating citadel has long since passed into history as one of the most brilliant creations of Ariakas’s brilliant, if dark and twisted, mind.
The Chair is located in a room specially built for it at the very top of the citadel. Climbing a narrow flight of spiral steps, the Wind Captain ascends an iron ladder leading to a trap door. Upon opening the trap door, the Captain enters a small, circular room devoid of windows. In the center of the room is a raised platform. Two pedestals, positioned about three feet apart, stand on the platform.
At the sight of these pedestals, Tas—pulling Rounce up after him—drew in a deep breath. Made of silver, standing about four feet tall, the pedestals were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Intricate designs and magical symbols were etched into their surfaces. Every tiny line was filled with gold that glittered in the torchlight streaming up from the stairway below. And, on top of each pedestal, was poised a huge globe, made of shining black crystal.
“You not get up on platform,” Rounce said severely.
“Rounce,” said Tas, climbing up onto the platform, which was about three feet off the floor, “do you know how to make this work?”
“No,” said Rounce coolly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Tas. “Me never been here lots. Me never run errand for big boss wizard. Me never put into this room and me never told fetch whatever wizard want. Me never watch big boss wizard fly many times.”
“Big boss wizard?” Tas said, frowning. He glanced hastily about the small room, peering into the shadows. “Where is the big boss wizard?”
“Him not down below,” Rounce said stubbornly. “Him not getting ready to blow friends to tiny bits.”
“Oh, that big boss wizard,” Tas said in relief. Then the kender paused. “But—if he’s not here—who’s flying this thing?”
“We not flying,” Rounce said, rolling his eyes. “We stand still. Boy, you some dumb cleric!”
“I see,” muttered Tas to himself. “When it’s standing still, the big boss wizard can leave it and go do big boss wizard things.” He glanced around. “My, my,” he said loudly, studying the platform, “what is it I’m not supposed to do?”
Rounce shook his head. “Me never tell. You not s’posed to step in two black circles on floor of platform.”
“I see,” said Tas, stepping into the black circles set into the floor between the pedestals. They appeared to be made of the same type of black crystal as the glass globes. From the corridor below, he heard another explosion and, again, shouts of the angry draconians. Apparently Tanis’s bracelet was still fending off the wizard’s magic.
“Now,” said Rounce, “you not s’pose to look up at circle in ceiling.”
Looking up, Tas gasped in awe. Above him, a circle the same size and diameter as the platform upon which he stood was beginning to glow with an eerie blue-white light.
“All right, Rounce,” Tas said, his voice shrill with excitement, “what is it I’m not supposed to do next?”
“You not put hands on black crystal globes. You not tell globes which way we go,” Rounce replied, sniffing. “Pooh. You never figure out big magic like this!”
“Tanis.” Tas yelled down through the opening in the floor, “which direction is the Tower of High Sorcery from here?”
For a moment, all he could hear was the clatter of swords and a few screams. Then, Tanis’s voice, sounding gradually closer as he and Caramon backed their way down the corridor, floated up. “Northwest! Almost straight northwest!”
“Right!” Planting his feet firmly in the black crystal depressions, Tas drew a shaking breath, then raised his hands to place them upon the crystal globes.
“Drat!” he cried in dismay, staring up. “I’m too short!”
Looking down at Rounce, he motioned. “I suppose your hands don’t have to be on the globe and your feet don’t have to be in the black circles at the same time?”
Tas had the unfortunate feeling that he already knew the answer to this, which was just as well. The question had thrown Rounce into such a state of confusion that he could only stare at Tas, his mouth gaping open.
Glaring at the gully dwarf simply because he had to have something to glare at in his frustration, Tas decided to try to jump up to touch the globes. He could reach them then, but when his feet left the black crystal circles—the blue-white light went dim.
“Now what?” he groaned. “Caramon or Tanis could reach it easily, but they’re down there and, from the sounds of things, they’re not going to be coming up here for a while. What can I do? I—Rounce!” he said suddenly, “come up here!”