Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [9]
There was silence, then, “Sure, Tanis,” Caramon said uneasily.
“We’re all packed,” Goldmoon added. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
“Let’s go then,” Tanis said.
“I’ve got to get my things,” Tika faltered.
“Go on. Be quick,” Tanis told her.
“I—I’ll help her,” Caramon offered in a low voice.
The big man, dressed, like Tanis, in the stolen armor of a dragonarmy officer, and Tika left quickly, probably hoping to snatch time enough for a last few minutes alone, Tanis thought, fuming in impatience. Goldmoon and Riverwind left to gather their things as well. Raistlin remained in the room, not moving. He had all he needed to carry with him—his pouches with his precious spell components, the Staff of Magius, and the precious marble of the dragon orb, tucked away inside its nondescript bag.
Tanis could feel Raistlin’s strange eyes boring into him. It was as if Raistlin could penetrate the darkness of the half-elf’s soul with the glittering light from those golden eyes. But still the mage said nothing. Why? Tanis thought angrily. He would almost have welcomed Raistlin’s questioning, his accusations. He would almost welcome a chance to unburden himself and tell the truth, even though he knew what consequences would result.
But Raistlin was silent, except for his incessant cough.
Within a few minutes, the others came back inside the room.
“We’re ready, Tanis,” Goldmoon said in a subdued voice.
For a moment, Tanis couldn’t speak. I’ll tell them, he resolved. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. He saw their faces, he saw trust; a belief in him. They were following him without question. He couldn’t let them down. He couldn’t shake this faith. It was all they had to cling to. Sighing, he swallowed the words he had been about to speak.
“Right,” he said gruffly and started toward the door.
Maquesta Kar-Thon was awakened from a sound sleep by a banging on her cabin door. Accustomed to having her sleep interrupted at all hours, she was almost immediately awake and reaching for her boots.
“What is it?” she called out.
Before the answer came, she was already getting the feel of the ship, assessing the situation. A glance through the porthole showed her the gale winds had died, but she could tell from the motion of the ship itself that the seas were running high.
“The passengers are here,” called out a voice she recognized as that of her first mate.
Landlubbers, she thought bitterly, sighing and dropping the boot she had been dragging on.
“Send ’em back,” she ordered, lying down again. “We’re not sailing today.”
There seemed to be some sort of altercation going on outside, for she heard her first mate’s voice raised in anger and another voice shouting back. Wearily Maquesta struggled to her feet. Her first mate, Bas Ohn-Koraf, was a minotaur, a race not noted for its easy-going temper. He was exceptionally strong and was known to kill without provocation—one reason he had taken to the sea. On a ship like the Perechon, no one asked questions about the past.
Throwing open the door to her cabin, Maq hurried up onto deck.
“What’s going on?” she demanded in her sternest voice as her eyes went from the bestial head of her first mate to the bearded face of what appeared to be a dragonarmy officer. But she recognized the slightly slanted brown eyes of the bearded man and fixed him with a cold stare. “I said we’re not sailing today, Half-Elf, and I meant—”
“Maquesta,” Tanis said quickly, “I’ve got to talk to you!” He started to push his way past the minotaur to reach her, but Koraf grabbed hold of him and yanked him backward. Behind Tanis, a larger dragonarmy officer growled and took a step forward. The minotaur’s eyes glistened eagerly as he deftly slipped a dirk from the wide, bright-colored sash around his waist.
The crew above decks gathered around immediately, hoping