Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [17]
The flames had died instantly. The man’s robes were whole, undamaged. His skin was pink and healthy. He sat up, a look of fear and awe on his face. He stared down at his hands and his robes. There was not a mark on his skin. There was not the smallest cinder smoking on his robes.
“It healed him!” the old man proclaimed loudly. “The staff! Look at the staff!”
Tasslehoff’s eyes went to the staff in his hands. It was made of blue crystal and was glowing with a bright blue light!
The old man began shouting. “Call the guards! Arrest the kender! Arrest the barbarians! Arrest their friends! I saw them come in with this knight.” He pointed at Sturm.
“What?” Tanis leaped up. “Are you crazy, old man?”
“Call the guards!” The word spread. “Did you see—? The blue crystal staff? We’ve found it. Now they’ll leave us alone. Call the guards!”
The Theocrat staggered to his feet, his face pale, blotched with red. The barbarian woman and her companion stood up, fear and alarm in their faces.
“Foul witch!” Hederick’s voice shook with rage. “You have cured me with evil! Even as I burn to purify my flesh, you will burn to purify your soul!” With that, the Seeker reached out, and before anyone could stop him, he plunged his hand back into the flames! He gagged with the pain but did not cry out. Then, clutching his charred and blackened hand, he turned and staggered off through the murmuring crowd, a wild look of satisfaction on his pain-twisted face.
“You’ve got to get out of here!” Tika came running over to Tanis, her breath coming in gasps. “The whole town’s been hunting for that staff! Those hooded men told the Theocrat they’d destroy Solace if they caught someone harboring the staff. The townspeople will turn you over to the guards!”
“But it’s not our staff!” Tanis protested. He glared at the old man and saw him settle back into his chair, a pleased smile on his face. The old man grinned at Tanis and winked.
“Do you think they’ll believe you!” Tika wrung her hands. “Look!”
Tanis looked around. People were glaring at them bale-fully. Some took a firm grip on their mugs. Others eased their hands onto the hilts of their swords. Shouts from down below drew his eyes back to his friends.
“The guards are coming!” exclaimed Tika.
Tanis rose. “We’ll have to go out through the kitchen.”
“Yes!” She nodded. “They won’t look back there yet. But hurry. It won’t take them long to surround the place.”
Years of being apart had not affected the companions’ ability to react as a team to threat of danger. Caramon had pulled on his shining helm, drawn his sword, shouldered his pack, and was helping his brother to his feet. Raistlin, his staff in his hand, was moving around the table. Flint had hold of his battle-axe and was frowning darkly at the onlookers, who seemed hesitant about rushing to attack such well-armed men. Only Sturm sat, calmly drinking his ale.
“Sturm!” Tanis said urgently. “Come on! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Run?” The knight appeared astonished. “From this rabble?”
“Yes.” Tanis paused; the knight’s code of honor forbade running from danger. He had to convince him. “That man is a religious fanatic, Sturm. He’ll probably burn us at the stake! And”—a sudden thought rescued him—“there is a lady to protect.”
“The lady, of course.” Sturm stood up at once and walked over to the woman. “Madam, your servant.” He bowed; the courtly knight would not be hurried. “It seems we are all in this together. Your staff has placed us in considerable danger—you most of all. We are familiar with the area around here: we grew up here. You, I know, are strangers. We would be honored to accompany you and your gallant friend and guard your lives.”
“Come on!” Tika urged, tugging on Tanis’s arm. Caramon and Raistlin were already at the kitchen door.
“Get the kender,” Tanis told her.
Tasslehoff stood, rooted to the floor, staring at the staff. It was rapidly fading back