Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [119]
“No!” Silvara cried fiercely. Her blue eyes flared, and Laurana fell back a pace before her anger.
“Why not?”
“I cannot tell you.” Silvara’s hands clenched nervously.
“It has something to do with that oath!” Laurana persisted. “Doesn’t it? The oath you’ve broken. And the punishment you asked Fizban about—”
“I cannot tell you!” Silvara spoke in a low, passionate voice. “What I have done is bad enough. But I had to do something! I could no longer live in this world and see the suffering of innocent people! I thought perhaps I could help, so I took elven form, and I did what I could. I worked long, trying to get the elves to join together. I kept them from war, but matters were growing worse. Then you came, and I saw that we were in great peril, greater than any of us had ever imagined. For you brought with you—” Her voice faltered.
“The dragon orb!” Laurana said suddenly.
“Yes.” Silvara’s fists clenched in misery. “I knew then I had to make a decision. You had the orb, but you also had the lance. The lance and the orb coming to me! Both, together! It was a sign, I thought, but I didn’t know what to do. I decided to bring the orb here and keep it safe forever. Then, as we traveled, I realized the knights would never allow it to remain here. There would be trouble. So, when I saw my chance, I sent it away.” Her shoulders sagged. “That was apparently the wrong decision. But how was I to know?”
“Why?” Theros asked severely. “What does the orb do? Is it evil? Have you sent those knights to their doom?”
“Great evil,” Silvara murmured. “Great good. Who can say? Even I do not understand the dragon orbs. They were forged long ago by the most powerful of magic-users.”
“But the book Tas read said they could be used to control dragons!” Flint stated. “He read it with some kind of glasses. Glasses of true seeing, he called ’em. He said they don’t lie—”
“No,” said Silvara sadly. “That is true. It is too true, as I fear you friends may discover to their bitter regret.”
The companions, fear closing around them, sat together in silence broken only by Gilthanas’s choking sobs. The torches sent shadows dodging and dancing around the quiet tomb like undead spirits. Laurana remembered Huma and the Silver Dragon. She thought of that final, terrible battle—the skies filled with dragons, the land erupting in flame and in blood.
“Why have you brought us here, then?” Laurana asked Silvara quietly. “Why not just let us all take the orb away?”
“Can I tell them? Do I have the strength?” Silvara whispered to an unseen spirit.
She sat quietly for a long time, her face expressionless, her hands twisting in her lap. Her eyes closed, her head bowed, her lips moved. She covered her face with her hands and sat quite still. Then, shuddering, she made her decision.
Rising to her feet, Silvara walked over to Laurana’s pack. Kneeling down, she slowly and carefully unwrapped the broken shaft of wood that the companions had carried such a long and weary distance. Silvara stood, her face once more filled with peace. But now there was also pride and strength. For the first time, Laurana began to believe this girl was something as powerful and magnificent as a dragon. Walking proudly, her silver hair glistening in the torchlight, Silvara walked over to stand before Theros Ironfeld.
“To Theros of the Silver Arm,” she said, “I give the power to forge the dragonlance.”
BOOK 3
1
The Red Wizard and His
Wonderful Illusions!
Shadows crept across the dusty tables of the Pig and Whistle tavern. The sea breeze off the Bay of Balifor made a shrill whistling sound as it blew through the ill-fitting front windows, that distinctive whistle giving the inn the last part of its name. Any guesses as to how the tavern got the first part ended on sight of the innkeeper. A jovial, kind-hearted man, William Sweetwater had been cursed at birth (so town legend went) when a wandering pig overturned the baby’s cradle, so frightening