Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [175]
Standing up, the old man patted him gently. “Call me Fizban. From now on, among the kender, that shall be my name.” The old man’s voice grew wistful. “To tell the truth, I’ve grown rather fond of it.”
The old man walked over to Tanis and Caramon, and stood near them for a moment, eavesdropping on their conversation.
“He’s gone, Tanis,” Caramon said sadly. “I don’t know where. I don’t understand. He’s still frail, but he isn’t weak. That horrible cough is gone. His voice is his own, yet different. He’s—”
“Fistandantilus,” the old man said.
Both Tanis and Caramon turned. Seeing the old man, they both bowed reverently.
“Oh, stop that!” Fizban snapped. “Can’t abide all that bowing. You’re both hypocrites anyway. I’ve heard what you said about me behind my back,” Tanis and Caramon both flushed guiltily. “Never mind.” Fizban smiled. “You believed what I wanted you to believe. Now, about your brother. You are right. He is himself and he is not. As was foretold, he is the master of both present and past.”
“I don’t understand.” Caramon shook his head. “Did the dragon orb do this to him? If so, perhaps it could be broken or—”
“Nothing did this to him,” Fizban said, regarding Caramon sternly. “Your brother chose this fate himself.”
“I don’t believe it! How? Who is this Fistan—whatever? I want answers—”
“The answers you seek are not mine to give,” Fizban said. His voice was mild still, but there was a hint of steel in his tone that brought Caramon up short. “Beware of those answers, young man,” Fizban added softly. “Beware still more of your questions!” Caramon was silent for long moments, staring into the sky after the green dragon, though it had long since disappeared.
“What will become of him now?” he asked finally.
“I do not know,” Fizban answered. “He makes his own fate, as do you. But I do know this, Caramon. You must let him go.” The old man’s eyes went to Tika, who had come to stand beside them. “Raistlin was right when he said your paths had split. Go forward into your new life in peace.”
Tika smiled up at Caramon and nestled close. He hugged her, kissing her red curls. But even as he returned her smile and tousled her hair, his gaze strayed to the night sky, where, above Neraka, the dragons still fought their flaming battles for control of the crumbling empire.
“So this is the end,” Tanis said. “Good has triumphed.”
“Good? Triumph?” Fizban repeated, turning to stare at the half-elf shrewdly. “Not so, Half-Elven. The balance is restored. The evil dragons will not be banished. They remain here, as do the good dragons. Once again the pendulum swings freely.”
“All this suffering, just for that?” Laurana asked, coming to stand beside Tanis. “Why shouldn’t good win, drive the darkness away forever?”
“Haven’t you learned anything, young lady?” Fizban scolded, shaking a bony finger at her. “There was a time when good held sway. Do you know when that was? Right before the Cataclysm!”
“Yes,” he continued, seeing their astonishment, “the Kingpriest of Istar was a good man. Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t, because both of you have seen what goodness like that can do. You’ve seen it in the elves, the ancient embodiment of good! It breeds intolerance, rigidity, a belief that because I am right, those who don’t believe as I do are wrong.
“We gods saw the danger this complacency was bringing upon the world. We saw that much good was being destroyed, simply because it wasn’t understood. And we saw the Queen of Darkness, lying in wait, biding her time; for this could not last, of course. The overweighted scales must tip and fall, and then she would return. Darkness would descend upon the world very fast.
“And so, the Cataclysm. We grieved for the innocent. We grieved for the guilty. But the world had to be prepared, or the darkness that fell might never have been lifted.” Fizban saw Tasslehoff yawn. “But enough lectures. I’ve got to go. Things to do. Busy night ahead.” Turning away abruptly, he tottered toward the snoring golden dragon.
“Wait!” Tanis said suddenly. “Fizban