One stubby-fingered hand shot forward. With surprising speed and delicacy, the dwarf picked a card from the front of the gypsy woman's purple blouse. He held it aloft. "See? Always a paladin, whenever she needs one," he said triumphantly. The crowd around the table began an ominous mutter.
Not put out in the slightest, the gypsy smiled and playfully touched a fingertip to the dwarfs bulbous nose. "Card game is over," she admitted with a little shrug. She reclaimed the Red Paladin card from the indignant dwarf and openly tucked it back into her blouse, then she leaned suggestively closer to the rugged, little man. "But much, much more I have where you found that one, hmmm?"
The dwarf responded to her purred invitation with a snort and a ready axe. "You could be packing a whole deck in your drawers, woman, for all I'd care," he said as he rose to his feet. Shaking his axe, he roared, "Now give me back my coins!"
At the mention of money, blades flashed as several aperusa men formed a semicircle behind the seductress.
"Nine Hells!"
The exclamation came from the other side of the tavern. Teldin looked over to see a large, red-bearded human wearing an outraged expression as he frantically patted himself down. "Damned if someone didn't pick me clean!"
"Me, too!"
"Hey, where's my bag?"
As the indignant chorus rose, several aperusa women melted into the night as silently as brightly colored shadows. Seeing this, Teldin understood. The women had taken the opportunity handed them by the dwarf's outburst to quietly work the room. His hand dropped to his own belt. Reassured that his coin bag was still full and that the medallion's bag was in place, Teldin eased away from the gypsy's card table. The gods knew, he drew more than enough attention by virtue of his cloak without putting himself in the center of a senseless tavern battle.
The storm definitely was brewing. Insults and accusations flew like hailstones, quickly followed by thrown fists. Within the span of two score heartbeats the fight engulfed the tavern.
As he carefully edged toward the back door, Teldin noticed the beholder now floating high above its chair. One of its eyestalks slowly rose, somehow giving Teldin the impression of a crossbow being notched and aimed.
Teldin flashed a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, the impertinent dracons stood directly behind him, watching the battle with stupid, tipsy smiles curving their reptilian mouths. Two things simultaneously occurred to Teldin: the beholder probably did not have much of a sense of humor, and he himself was standing in the line of fire.
An enormous aperusa man near Teldin apparently came to the same conclusion. With a shriek, the gypsy launched himself into the air and away from danger. His precipitous lunge caught Teldin and sent him sprawling under a nearby table. Slightly dazed, Teldin shook his head and started to crawl out from under the tablecloth.
"No! Not to go yet," hissed a bass whisper. Teldin started. Somehow the huge aperusa also had taken refuge under the table and was crouched on all fours behind him. After motioning for Teldin to stay put, the gypsy thrust two fingers under his black mustache and blew. A shrill whistle cut through the clamor of the fight.
At the signal, the purple-clad woman jumped onto the card table and began a sinuous, suggestive dance. Some of those fighters nearest the table stopped in midbrawl, oblivious to their own upraised fists or drawn daggers as they gaped at the sensuous display. As she whirled and stamped and beckoned, several of the tavern patrons forgot their grievances and drifted closer to her makeshift stage, opening a path between Teldin's hiding place and the rear door of the tavern.
The gypsy woman seemed to notice the same thing. Smiling seductively, she caught up her swirling skirts and ripped them from hem to sash, revealing a small arsenal of knives strapped to shapely legs. She began to snatch up knives and throw them with chilling accuracy.
"Now," intoned the aperusa man. He slid out from under the table and bounded to his feet. "We go now."
Teldin crawled out and cast a look toward the beleaguered gypsy woman. Her knife collection almost depleted, she now lashed out with bare feet at anyone who ventured within range. "But-"
"Please to hurry," pleaded the aperusa, pushing Teldin toward the back of the tavern. "Must go out back door, and quickly. Amber can hold them only for so long."
"And then?" Teldin asked pointedly, brushing the man's hand off his shoulder. The aperusa's black brows knitted in befuddlement, so Teldin tried again. "What will happen to her then?"
"Ah." Understanding lit the gypsy's eyes, but he shrugged as if the answer were of little consequence. "A short stay in prison. Amber will charm the jailor and leave when she chooses."
A bolt of blue light shot past Teldin's head with a sharp, sizzling hiss. He stared in stunned amazement at the stars glimmering through the smoking, black-edged hole in the tavern wall. The charred remains of what used to be bar patrons lay on the floor, as crumpled and dried as fallen leaves. They might as well have been leaves, for all the identity that was left to them.
"Eye of disintegration," moaned the gypsy, again shoving Teldin toward the exit. "Angry beholder, very dangerous. We go now."
A thunderous rumble nudged Teldin out of his shock and indecision. He looked up to see the pair of dracons, panic etched on their dragonlike faces, stampeding toward him. Teldin leaped for the door, but not soon enough. The dracons, the human, and the aperusa crashed through the doorway and into the alley.
As he pulled himself free of the bruising tangle of tails, limbs, and splintered wood, Teldin thought that it would be a cold day in Reorx's Forge before either of the dracons told another beholder joke.
Chapter Two
The grand admiral sat at the very center of the secret command base called Lionheart, her tiny form almost lost in the deep blue leather of her chair. Despite her diminutive size, the ancient ruler of the Imperial Fleet was an imposing elf who wore her years like hard-earned battle trophies. Her bearing was still erect and proud, her close-cropped silver curls were thick and lustrous, and her face was a triangular network of lines framing eyes of tempered steel. The power that came with the office of grand admiral shaped and defined those who wielded it, and the passing of centuries had left little to the elven leader that spoke of personality, name, or even gender. Yet her office was furnished throughout in deep blue, a color that uniquely complemented her silvery appearance. There was enough personal vanity left in the elven woman's soul for that.
Her office was in a tower, and from any of the circular room's windows she could see the ring of armadas, enormous butterfly ships planted wing-to-wing on a remote asteroid of Garden. She stared idly at one of these titanic butterflies as she pondered the strange message an elven wizard had just delivered to her.
The grand admiral turned slowly to face her adviser and studied the wizard with shrewd, pale eyes. Vallus Leafbower stood stiffly as he awaited her response. The gossamer chain mail of his uniform glittered in the dim lamplight, and his blue tabard was embroidered with a wizard's insignia as well as elven runes naming his house and rank. He had been with the Imperial Fleet only a short time, yet Vallus Leafbower was highly regarded by the command of Lionheart. He was a powerful wizard of impeccable lineage, and he'd brought information deemed vital to the elven war effort. Had the report he'd just given come from any other adviser, the grand admiral likely would have dismissed it as hysteria.
"Ghost ships are not uncommon. Perhaps you should tell me why this particular one was brought to my attention," she suggested.
Vallus hesitated, and the admiral did not miss the foreboding in the wizard's eyes. "The abandoned ship was an armada. It was adrift in Winterspace," he said.