Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [79]
Tanis had supposed, when he first began to question Berem, that the man had steered the ship into the maelstrom because he knew this place existed, that he had brought them here on purpose.
But now the half-elf wasn’t so certain. It was apparent from the confused and frightened look on Berem’s face that he had no idea where they were either. The mere fact that he was even talking to them gave an indication that what he said was true. He was desperate. He wanted out of here. Why?
“Berem …” Tanis began, getting up and pacing about the room. He felt Berem’s gaze follow him. “If you are running from the Queen of Darkness, this seems like it might be an ideal place to hide—”
“No!” Berem shouted, half-rising.
Tanis spun around. “Why not? Why are you so determined to get out of here? Why do you want to go back to where she will find you?”
Berem cringed, huddling back down in his chair. “I—I don’t know anything about this place! I swear it! I—I m—must get back.… There’s someplace I must go … I’m hunting for something.… Until I find it, there’ll be no rest.”
“Find it! Find what?” Tanis shouted. He felt Goldmoon’s hand on his arm and he knew he was raving like a maniac, but it was so frustrating! To have what the Queen of Darkness would give the world to acquire and not know why!
“I can’t tell you!” Berem whimpered.
Tanis sucked in his breath, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. His head throbbed. He felt as if he might fly into a thousand pieces. Goldmoon rose to her feet. Putting both her hands on his shoulders, she whispered soothing words he could not comprehend, except for the name of Mishakal. Slowly the terrible feeling passed, leaving him drained and exhausted.
“All right, Berem.” Tanis sighed. “It’s all right. I’m sorry. We won’t talk about it anymore. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”
Berem hesitated a moment, his eyes narrowed and he grew tense. Tanis was struck by Berem’s peculiar manner. “I’m from Solace. Where are you from?” he repeated casually.
Berem regarded him warily. “You, you would never have heard of it. A—A small village outside of … outside of …” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Neraka.”
“Neraka?” Tanis looked at Riverwind.
The Plainsman shook his head. “He’s right. I have never heard of it.”
“Nor I,” Tanis muttered. “Too bad Tasslehoff and his maps aren’t here.… Berem, why—”
“Tanis!” Goldmoon cried.
The half-elf rose at the sound of her voice, his hand going reflexively to the sword that wasn’t there. Dimly he remembered struggling with it in the water, its weight dragging him down. Cursing himself for not setting Riverwind to guard the door, he could do nothing now but stare at the red-robed man who stood framed in its opening.
“Hello,” the man said pleasantly, speaking Common.
The red robes brought Raistlin’s image back to Tanis with such force that the half-elf’s vision blurred. For a moment he thought it was Raistlin. Then he saw clearly. This mage was older, much older, and his face was kind.
“Where are we?” Tanis demanded harshly. “Who are you? Why were we brought here?”
“KreeaQUEKH,” the man said in disgust. Turning, he walked away.
“Damn!” Tanis jumped forward, intent on grabbing the man and dragging him back. But he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Wait,” Riverwind counseled. “Calm down, Tanis. He’s a magic-user. You couldn’t fight him even if you had a sword. We’ll follow him, see where he goes. If he laid a spell on this place, perhaps he’ll have to lift it to get out himself.”
Tanis drew a deep breath. “You’re right, of course.” He gasped for air. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel tight and stretched, like the skin over a drum. We’ll follow him. Goldmoon, you stay here with Berem—”
“No!” Berem shouted. Throwing himself out of the chair, he clutched at Tanis with such force he nearly knocked him down. “Don’t leave me here! Don’t!”
“We’re not going to leave you!” Tanis said, trying to extricate himself from Berem’s deathlike grip. “Oh, all right.