Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [128]
“Caramon!” Tas whispered. “I’ve got a message. Can you hear me?”
Caramon did not turn, but kept staring straight ahead, his face set rock-hard. But Tas saw one eyelid flutter.
“Tanis said to trust him!” Tas whispered swiftly. “No matter what. And … and to … keep up the act … I think that’s what he said.”
Tas saw Caramon frown.
“He spoke in elven,” Tas added huffily. “And it was hard to hear.”
Caramon’s expression did not change. If anything, it grew darker.
Tas swallowed. Edging closer, he pressed up against the wall right behind the big warrior’s broad back. “That … that Dragon Highlord,” the kender said hesitantly. “That … was Kitiara, wasn’t it?”
Caramon did not answer. But Tas saw the muscles in the man’s jaw tighten, he saw a nerve begin to twitch in Caramon’s neck.
Tas sighed. Forgetting where he was, he raised his voice. “You do trust him, don’t you, Caramon? Because—”
Without warning, Tas’s draconian guard turned and bashed the kender across the mouth, slamming him into the wall. Dazed with pain, Tasslehoff sank down to the ground. A dark shadow bent over him. His vision fuzzy, Tas couldn’t see who it was and he braced himself for another blow. Then he felt strong, gentle hands lift him by his fleecy vest.
“I told you not to damage them,” growled Caramon.
“Bah! A kender!” The draconian spat.
The troops had nearly all passed by now. Caramon set Tas on his feet. The kender tried to stand up, but for some reason the sidewalk kept sliding out from underneath him.
“I—I’m sorry …” he heard himself mumble. “Legs acting funny …” Finally he felt himself hoisted in the air and, with a protesting squeak, was flung over Caramon’s broad shoulder like a meal sack.
“He’s got information,” Caramon said in his deep voice. “I hope you haven’t addled his brain so that he’s lost it. The Dark Lady won’t be pleased.”
“What brain?” snarled the draconian, but Tas, from his upside-down position on Caramon’s back, thought the creature appeared a bit shaken.
They began walking again. Tas’s head hurt horribly, his cheek stung. Putting his hand to it, he felt sticky blood where the draconian’s claws had dug into his skin. There was a sound in his ears like a hundred bees had taken up residence in his brain. The world seemed to be slowly circling around him, making his stomach queasy, and being jounced around on Caramon’s armor-plated back wasn’t helping.
“How much farther is it?” He could feel Caramon’s voice vibrate in the big man’s chest. “The little bastard’s heavy.”
In answer, the draconian pointed a long, bony claw.
With a great effort, trying to take his mind off his pain and dizziness, Tas twisted his head to see. He could manage only a glance, but it was enough. The building had been growing larger and larger as they approached until it filled, not only the vision, but the mind as well.
Tas slumped back. His sight was growing dim and he wondered drowsily why it was getting so foggy. The last thing he remembered was hearing the words, “To the dungeons … beneath the Temple of Her Majesty, Takhisis, Queen of Darkness.”
6
Tanis bargains. Gakhan investigates.
W ine?”
“No.”
Kitiara shrugged. Taking the pitcher from the bowl of snow in which it rested to keep cool, she slowly poured some for herself, idly watching the blood-red liquid run out of the crystal carafe and into her glass. Then she carefully set the crystal carafe back into the snow and sat down opposite Tanis, regarding him coolly.
She had taken off the dragon helm, but she wore her armor still, the night-blue armor, gilded with gold, that fit over her lithe body like scaled skin. The light from the many candles in the room gleamed in the polished surfaces and glinted off the sharp metal edges until Kitiara seemed ablaze in flame. Her dark hair, damp with perspiration, curled around her face. Her brown eyes were bright as fire, shadowed by long, dark lashes.
“Why are you here, Tanis?” she asked softly,