Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [22]
“That’s a good idea, Tas, but we don’t have a boat.”
“No problem.” The kender grinned. His small face and sharply pointed ears made him look particularly impish in the eerie light. Tas is enjoying all of this immensely, Tanis realized. He felt like shaking the kender, lecturing him sternly on how much danger they were in. But the half-elf knew it was useless: kender are totally immune to fear.
“The boat’s a good idea,” Tanis repeated, after a moment’s thought. “You guide. And don’t tell Flint,” he added. “I’ll take care of that.”
“Right!” Tas giggled, then slipped back to the others. “Follow me,” he called out softly, and he started off once more. Flint, grumbling into his beard, stumped after the kender. Goldmoon followed the dwarf. Riverwind cast a quick, penetrating glance around at everyone in the group, then fell into step behind her.
“I don’t think he trusts us,” Caramon observed.
“Would you?” Tanis asked, glancing at the big man. Caramon’s dragon helm glinted in the flickering lights; his ringmail armor was visible whenever the wind blew his cape back. A longsword clanked against his thick thighs, a short bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over his shoulder, a dagger protruded from his belt. His shield was battered and dented from many fights. The giant was ready for anything.
Tanis looked over at Sturm, who proudly wore the coat of arms of a knighthood that had fallen into disgrace three hundred years before. Although Sturm was only four years older than Caramon, the knight’s strict, disciplined life, hardships brought on by poverty, and his melancholy search for his beloved father had aged the knight beyond his years. Only twenty-nine, he looked forty.
Tanis thought, I don’t think I’d trust us either.
“What’s the plan?” Sturm asked.
“We’re going by boat,” Tanis answered.
“Oh, ho!” Caramon chuckled. “Told Flint yet?”
“No. Leave that to me.”
“Where are we getting the boat?” Sturm asked suspiciously.
“You’ll be happier not knowing,” the half-elf said.
The knight frowned. His eyes followed the kender, who was far ahead of them, flitting from one shadow to another. “I don’t like this, Tanis. First we’re murderers, now we’re about to become thieves.”
“I don’t consider myself a murderer.” Caramon snorted. “Goblins don’t count.”
Tanis saw the knight glare at Caramon. “I don’t like any of this, Sturm,” he said hastily, hoping to avoid an argument. “But it’s a matter of necessity. Look at the Plainsmen—pride’s the only thing keeping them on their feet. Look at Raistlin …” Their eyes went to the mage, who was shuffling through the dry leaves, keeping always in the shadows. He leaned heavily upon his staff. Occasionally, a dry cough racked his frail body.
Caramon’s face darkened. “Tanis is right,” he said softly. “Raist can’t take much more of this. I must go to him.” Leaving the knight and the half-elf, he hurried forward to catch up with the robed, bent figure of his twin.
“Let me help you, Raist,” they heard Caramon whisper.
Raistlin shook his hooded head and flinched away from his brother’s touch. Caramon shrugged and dropped his arm. But the big warrior stayed close to his frail brother, ready to help him if necessary.
“Why does he put up with that?” Tanis asked softly.
“Family. Ties of blood.” Sturm sounded wistful. He seemed about to say more, then his eyes went to Tanis’s elven face with its growth of human hair and he fell silent. Tanis saw the look, knew what the knight was thinking. Family, ties of blood—they were things the orphaned half-elf wouldn’t know about.
“Come on,” Tanis said abruptly. “We’re dropping behind.”
They soon left the vallenwood trees of Solace and entered the pine forest surrounding Crystalmir Lake. Tanis could faintly hear muffled shouts far behind them. “They’ve found the bodies,” he guessed. Sturm nodded gloomily. Suddenly Tasslehoff seemed to materialize out of the darkness right beneath the half-elf’s nose.
“The trail runs a little over a mile to the lake,” Tas said. “I’ll meet you