Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [100]
Silvara had found time, among her people, to change her clothing. She was now dressed as a Kaganesti woman, in a long leather tunic over leather breeches, covered by a heavy fur cloak. With her hair washed and combed, all of them could see how she had come by her name. Her hair, a strange, metallic silver color, flowed from a peak on her forehead to fall about her shoulders in radiant beauty.
Silvara turned out to be an exceptionally good guide, pushing them along at a rapid pace. She and Gilthanas walked side by side, talking together in elven. Shortly before sundown, they came to a cave.
“Here we can spend the night,” Silvara said. “We should have left the pursuit behind us. Few know these mountains as well as I do. But we dare not light a fire. Dinner will be cold, I’m afraid.”
Exhausted by the day’s climb, they ate a cheerless meal, then made their beds in the cave. The companions, huddled in their blankets and every piece of clothing they owned, slept fitfully. They set the watch, Laurana and Silvara both insisting on taking turns. The night passed quietly, the only sound they heard was the wind howling among the rocks.
But the next morning Tasslehoff, squeezing out through a crack in the cave’s hidden entrance to take a look around, suddenly hurried back inside. Putting his finger to his lips, Tas motioned them to follow him outdoors. Theros pushed aside the huge boulder they had rolled across the mouth of the cave, and the companions crept after Tas. He led them to a stop not twenty feet from the cave and pointed grimly at the white snow.
On it were footprints, fresh enough that the blowing, drifting snow had not quite covered them. The light, delicate tracks had not sunk deeply into the snow. No one spoke. There was no need. Everyone recognized the crisp, clear outline of elven boots.
“They must have passed by us in the night,” Silvara said. “But we dare not stay here any longer. Soon they will discover they have lost the trail and will backtrack. We must be gone.”
“I don’t see that it will make much difference,” Flint grumbled in disgust. He pointed at their own, highly visible tracks. Then he looked up at the clear, blue sky. “We might as well just sit and wait for them. Save them time and save us bother. There’s no way we can hide our trail!”
“Maybe we cannot hide our trail,” said Theros, “but we can gain some miles on them, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” Derek repeated grimly. Reaching down, he loosened his sword in its scabbard, then he walked back to the cave.
Laurana caught hold of Sturm. “It must not come to bloodshed!” she whispered frantically, alarmed by Derek’s action.
The knight shook his head as they followed the others. “We cannot allow your people to stop us from taking the orb to Sancrist.”
“I know!” Laurana said softly. Bowing her head, she entered the cave in silent misery.
The rest were ready within moments. Then Derek stood, fuming in the doorway, watching Laurana impatiently.
“Go ahead,” she told him, unwilling to let him see her cry. “I’ll be along.”
Derek left immediately. Theros, Sturm, and the others trudged out more slowly, glancing uneasily at Laurana.
“Go ahead.” She gestured. She needed a moment to be by herself. But all she could think of was Derek’s hand on his sword. “No!” she told herself sternly. “I will not fight my people. The day that happens is the day the dragons have won. I will lay down my own sword first—”
She heard movement behind her. Whirling around, her hand going reflexively to her sword, Laurana stopped.
“Silvara?” she said in astonishment, seeing the girl in the shadows. “I thought you had gone. What are you doing?”
Laurana walked swiftly to where Silvara had been kneeling in the darkness, her hands busy with something on the cavern floor. The Wilder elf rose quickly to her feet.
“N-nothing,” Silvara murmured. “Just gathering my things.”
Behind Silvara, on the cold floor of the cave, Laurana thought she saw the dragon orb, its crystal surface shining with a strange