Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [150]
“Right,” Tika said, swallowing her tears. Hurriedly she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then, sword in hand, she turned to face the corridor behind them while Tas took another look at the lock.
It was a simple, simple lock, he saw with satisfaction, guarded by such a simple trap he wondered why they even bothered.
Wondered why they even bothered … Simple lock … simple trap … The words rang in his mind. They were familiar! He’d thought them before.… Staring up at the doors in astonishment, Tas realized he’d been here before! But no, that was impossible.
Shaking his head irritably, Tas fumbled in his pouch for his tools. Then he stopped. Cold fear gripped the kender and shook him like a dog shakes a rat, leaving him limp.
The dream!
These had been the doors he saw in the Silvanesti dream! This had been the lock. The simple, simple lock with the simple trap! And Tika had been behind him, fighting … dying.…
“Here they come, Tas!” Tika called, gripping her sword in sweating hands. She cast him a quick glance over her shoulder. “What are you doing? What are you waiting for?”
Tas couldn’t answer. He could hear the draconians now, laughing in their harsh voices as they took their time reaching their captives, certain the prisoners weren’t going anyplace. They rounded the corner and Tas heard their laughter grow louder when they saw Tika holding the sword.
“I—I don’t think I can, Tika,” Tas whimpered, staring at the lock in horror.
“Tas,” said Tika swiftly and grimly, backing up to talk to him without taking her eyes off her enemies, “we can’t let ourselves be captured! They know about Berem! They’ll try to make us tell what we know about him, Tas! And you know what they’ll do to us to make us talk—”
“You’re right!” said Tas miserably. “I’ll try.”
You’ve got the courage to walk it, Fizban had told him. Taking a deep breath, Tasslehoff pulled a thin wire out of one of his pouches. After all, he told his shaking hands sternly, what is death to a kender but the greatest adventure of all? And then there’s Flint out there, by himself. Probably getting into all sorts of scrapes … His hands now quite steady, Tas inserted the wire carefully into the lock and set to work.
Suddenly there was a harsh roar behind him; he heard Tika shout and the sound of steel clashing against steel.
Tas dared a quick look. Tika had never learned the art of swordsmanship, but she was a skilled barroom brawler. Hacking and slashing with the blade, she kicked and gouged and bit and battered. The fury and ferocity of her attack drove the draconians back a pace. All of them were slashed and bleeding; one wallowed in green blood on the floor, its arm hanging uselessly.
But she couldn’t hold them off much longer. Tas turned back to his work, but now his hands trembled, the slender tool slipped out of his clammy grasp. The trick was to spring the lock without springing the trap. He could see the trap—a tiny needle held in place by a coiled spring.
Stop it! he ordered himself. Was this any way for a kender to act? He inserted the wire again carefully, his hands steady once more. Suddenly, just as he almost had it, he was jostled from behind.
“Hey,” he shouted irritably at Tika, turning around. “Be a little more careful—” He stopped short. The dream! He had said those exact words. And—as in the dream—he saw Tika, lying at his feet, blood flowing into her red curls.
“No!” Tas shrieked in rage. The wire slipped, his hand struck the lock.
There was a click as the lock opened. And with the click came another small sound, a brittle sound, barely heard; a sound like “snick.” The trap was sprung.
Wide-eyed, Tas stared at the tiny spot of blood on his finger, then at the small golden needle protruding from the lock. The draconians had him now, grasping him by the shoulder. Tas ignored them. It didn’t matter anyway. There was a stinging pain