The half-ogre waved to get the dwarf’s attention. Groller pointed to his head with one hand, his stomach with another, and made a sad-looking face. Next, he brought his hands close together in front of his chest, then moved them about three feet apart.
“Sick.” Jasper translated the first gesture. “Much.” The dwarf grimaced, then his face brightened. “How much? How badly are they injured? Are they very sick?” The dwarf waved his arms around to indicate all of his patients, then he brought a thumb to his breastbone and waggled the fingers of that hand—the gesture for fine, all right, and a couple of other things. Groller got the gist of what the dwarf was trying to say.
“Allufem be all right,” the half-ogre said. “Jaz-pear good healer. Jaz-pear suhmart. And tard.”
The dwarf nodded. He hadn’t slept since the refugees came onto the ship, and using his mystic magic to heal the worst wounds took a lot of energy. Initially he had spent most of his time ministering to Palin—and praying to the departed gods that the sorcerer would pull through. He motioned to Groller that he had to go check on Palin now.
Palin lay in his bunk, a damp cloth covering his eyes and forehead. His badly sunburned skin stood out against the white of the sheets. Feril sat near him, seemingly studying a spot on the floor. She looked up when Jasper and Groller entered, and drew a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet.
“He’s finally sleeping,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not.” Palin tugged the cloth loose and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, but quickly stopped himself. He winced and looked down at his chest, which was partially covered with a thick bandage. It effectively hid the claw marks from the spawn and the arrow wound in his shoulder.
“You’re going to be hurting for the next few days,” Jasper said. “You were badly injured. I did the best I could, but — “
“I owe you my life ” Palin said.
“Well, you probably would’ve made it anyway. You’re more stubborn than just about anyone I know.” The dwarf stroked his short beard and shuffled over to examine Palin’s bandages. He poked and prodded at the sorcerer’s shoulder, ignoring Palin’s painful expression. “Hmm. Still bleeding. Was worse than I thought. Must fix that.”
Jasper had dug out two arrow heads the night before. It was a procedure that the sorcerer thought more painful than getting wounded in the first place. Then the dwarf had cast a couple of curative spells, which had gone a long way toward making certain that Palin would live.
The dwarf closed his eyes in concentration. He put his hand on Palin’s shoulder and shut out the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the sound of the waves beyond the porthole. He shut out everything until all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.
“Your heart gives you life,” Goldmoon had lectured him. “But your heart also gives you strength and power.” He remembered her words, heard her voice softly repeat them over and over in his mind. “The magic to heal is inside you,” she had told him, “inside your heart.” It had taken him a few years to discover that she was right.
A soft orange glow radiated from the dwarf’s fingers, left his hand, and hovered above the wound for a moment. Palm’s skin took on a warm sheen, and his chest rose and fell more quickly. Then the healing aura disappeared as quickly as it had come, Palin’s breathing slowed, and the dwarf let out a deep breath, surveying his handiwork. He tossed aside the bandage. The spell had made the bleeding stop, and only a raw red patch of skin remained to remind the sorcerer of the arrow. “You’ll scar,” jasper said.
“It’s not where anyone would notice,” the sorcerer said. “Thank you.”
“And you’ll be weak. You lost a lot of blood. Can’t do anything about your sunburn. Yours either, Feril. Or Blister’s. You all should’ve dressed better—going off into the desert like that. Your skin will be peeling for days. Can’t do nothing about the boils on your feet either.”
“Thank you,” Palin said again.
“You’re welcome.”
Groller tilted his head to the side and laid it in his open hand, then he pointed to Palin.
Jasper nodded. “Yes, he needs rest. But first he needs to talk to one of the refugees, that old man with the tablet. The man keeps mentioning the Blue, Khellendros, and says he must speak to you. Frankly, the man babbles. I think he’s a touch mad. But if you’ll give him a few minutes, maybe he’ll leave the rest of us alone.”
Feril looked at Palin. “He tried to talk to you on the way from the stronghold.”
“I don’t recall much of the trip back,” Palin admitted. With her help, the sorcerer sat up in his bunk and slowly swung his legs over the side. “All right, let’s go see this gentleman.”
“You’re not going anywhere — Jasper’s orders,” the dwarf said. “We’ll bring the old man to you.”
Several minutes later, Gilthanas escorted the old man to Palin’s quarters. The man was grizzled and bent, wearing tattered but clean clothes. He clutched a small clay tablet protectively.
“This is Raalumar Sageth,” Gilthanas announced. The elf stepped back and let the old man shuffle closer to Palin.
“Call me Sageth,” he said in a soft, cracking voice. “That’s what my friends called me. But my friends are all dead now. Hamular, Genry, Alicia, all gone — old, dead, buried.” His rheumy blue eyes carefully consulted the tablet he held, and he muttered to himself for several moments about age and wrinkles. “Southern Ergoth. You’re going there, I heard the sailors say. Cold place.” He cackled and wheezed. “Cold now in any event. Right place to go, wrong reason.”
Palin cocked his head. Jasper sidled over and sat next to the sorcerer on the bunk. “Told you he babbles,” he whispered to Palin. “Maybe this could have waited.” Jasper turned to the old man and said, “What’s wrong about our reason for going there?”
“Let’s see, let’s see.” Sageth consulted his tablet and chortled. “Ah, here it is. Alicia could have told you quicker. Did I tell you she’s dead?”
The dwarf and Palin nodded.
“Let’s see. You mean to fight the White there. Right?”
Feril stepped up behind him, and noted that his tablet was filled with a myriad of symbols and scratchings she couldn’t hope to fathom.
“Somebody needs to fight the dragon, any dragon,” Jasper said. “If we don’t stand up to the overlords soon, there’ll be no spot on Krynn left free “
Sageth glanced at the tablet again. “I miss Alicia, poor Genry the most. Better use for your energies than fighting. Hamular could have told you that, too. The White has an ally now. You see, some of the overlords are joining forces, the White of Southern Ergoth with the Red near Kender-more.”
“Malystryx,” Palin said.
“Yes, the Red Marauder. It was inevitable.” The old man wheezed and grabbed his side. “The Red seeks to establish a formidable power base. And something dreadful will happen if she is successful.”
“So killing the White will help erode that power base,” the dwarf said.
The old man closed his eyes. When next he spoke, his voice was clearer, as if he were putting all of his energy into talking. “Listen to me. Use your energies better. Forget about the White. Worry about magic first, the ‘dragons second. The Blue, Khellendros, the so-called Storm Over Krynn, searches for the ancient magic—magic from the Age of Dreams.”
Palin grew instantly interested. “What do you know of that magic?”
“Ancient, more powerful than all of the arcane items enchanted since.” The old man opened his eyes, looked down at his tablet, then peered intently at Palin. “More magic pulses through those artifacts than does in the veins of the dragons. The Storm Over Krynn wants the magic, and because I know he wants it, the knights imprisoned me.”