Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [36]
Tanis glanced at Goldmoon. Her face was shadowed with worry. Surely she must be wondering the same thing. He looked back at the road again. The cloaked figures were moving at a crawling pace, pulling the cart. Sturm sat on the fence, stroking his moustaches.
The companions waited in silence. Gray clouds massed overhead, the sky grew darker and soon water began to drip through the branches of the trees.
“There, it’s raining,” Flint grumbled. “It isn’t enough that I have to squat in a bush like a toad, now I get soaked to the skin—”
Tanis glared at the dwarf. Flint mumbled and fell silent. Soon the companions could hear nothing but the rain splatting against the already wet leaves, drumming on shield and helm. It was a cold, steady rain, the kind that seeps through the thickest cloak. It ran off Caramon’s dragon helm and trickled down his neck. Raistlin began to shiver and cough, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle the sound as everyone stared at him in alarm.
Tanis looked out to the road. Like Tas, he had never seen anything to compare to these clerics in his hundred years of life on Krynn. They were tall, about six feet in height. Long robes shrouded their bodies, hooded cloaks covered the robes. Even their feet and hands were wrapped in cloth, like bandages covering leprous wounds. As they neared Sturm, they glanced around warily. One of them stared straight into the brush where the companions were hiding. They could see only dark glittering eyes through a swath of cloth.
“Hail, Knight of Solamnia,” the lead cleric said in the Common tongue. His voice was hollow, lisping, an inhuman voice. Tanis shivered.
“Greetings, brethren,” Sturm answered, also in Common. “I have traveled many miles this day and you are the first travelers I have passed. I have heard strange rumors, and I seek information about the road ahead. Where do you come from?”
“We come from the east originally,” the cleric answered. “But today we travel from Haven. It is a chill, bitter day for journeying, knight, which is perhaps why you find the road empty. We ourselves would not undertake such a journey save we are driven by necessity. We did not pass you on the road, so you must be traveling from Solace, Sir Knight.”
Sturm nodded. Several of the clerics standing at the rear of the cart turned their hooded faces toward each other, muttering. The lead cleric spoke to them in a strange, guttural language. Tanis looked at his companions. Tasslehoff shook his head, as did the rest of them; none of them had heard it before. The cleric switched back to Common. “I am curious to hear these rumors you speak of, knight.”
“There is talk of armies in the north,” Sturm replied. “I am traveling that way, to my homeland of Solamnia. I would not want to run into a war to which I had not been invited.”
“We have not heard these rumors,” the cleric answered. “So far as we know, the road to the north is clear.”
“Ah, that’s what comes of listening to drunken companions.” Sturm shrugged. “But what is this necessity you speak of that drives the brethren out into such foul weather?”
“We seek a staff,” the cleric answered readily. “A blue crystal staff. We heard that it had been sighted in Solace. Do you know aught of it?”
“Yes,” Sturm answered. “I heard of such a staff in Solace. I heard of the armies to the north from the same companions. Am I to believe these stories or not?”
This appeared to confound the cleric for a moment. He glanced around, as if uncertain how to react.
“Tell me,” said Sturm, lounging back against the fence, “why do you seek a blue crystal staff? Surely one of plain, sturdy wood would suit you reverend gentlemen better.”
“It is a sacred staff of healing,” the cleric replied gravely. “One of our brothers is sorely ill;