Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [144]
“No, no.” Fizban sighed. “Fortunately for them. For it is still active and very powerful. Much will depend on the decisions a few make—perhaps the fate of the world.”
“What do you mean? Won’t the Council make the decisions?”
“You don’t understand, my boy,” Fizban said gently. “Stop a moment, I must rest.” The mage sat down, leaning against a wall. Shaking his head, he continued. “I concentrated my will on the orb, Tas. Oh, not to control dragons,” he added, seeing the kender’s eyes widen. “I looked into the future.”
“What did you see?” Tas asked hesitantly, not certain from the mage’s somber expression that he wanted to know.
“I saw two roads stretching before us. If we take the easiest, it will appear the best at the beginning, but darkness will fall at the end, never to be lifted. If we take the other road, it will be hard and difficult to travel. It could cost the lives of some we love, dear boy. Worse, it might cost others their very souls. But only through these great sacrifices will we find hope.” Fizban closed his eyes.
“And this involves the orb?” Tas asked, shivering.
“Yes.”
“Do you know what must be done to … to take the d-dark road?” Tas dreaded the answer.
“I do,” Fizban replied in a low voice. “But the decisions have not been left in my hands. That will be up to others.”
“I see,” Tas sighed. “Important people, I suppose. People like kings and elflords and knights.” Then Fizban’s words echoed in his mind. The lives of some we love …
Suddenly a lump formed in Tas’s throat, choking him. His head dropped into his hands. This adventure was turning out all wrong! Where was Tanis? And dear old Caramon? And pretty Tika? He had tried not to think about them, particularly after that dream.
And Flint—I shouldn’t have gone without him, Tas thought miserably. He might die, he might be dead right now! The lives of some you love! I never thought about any of us dying—not really. I always figured that if we were together we could beat anything! But now, we’ve gotten scattered somehow. And things are going all wrong!
Tas felt Fizban’s hand stroke his topknot, his one great vanity. And for the first time in his life, the kender felt very lost and alone and frightened. The mage’s grip tightened around him affectionately. Burying his face in Fizban’s sleeve, Tas began to cry.
Fizban patted him gently. “Yes,” the mage repeated, “important people.”
6
The Council of Whitestone.
An important person.
The Council of Whitestone met upon the twenty-eighth day of December, a day known as Famine Day in Solamnia, for it commemorated the suffering of the people during the first winter following the Cataclysm. Lord Gunthar thought it fitting to hold the Council meeting on this day, which was marked by fasting and meditation.
It had been over a month since the armies sailed for Palanthas. The news Gunthar received from that city was not good. A report had arrived early on the morning of the twenty-eighth, in fact. Reading it twice over, he sighed heavily, frowned, and tucked the paper into his belt.
The Council of Whitestone had met once before within the recent past, a meeting precipitated by the arrival of the refugee elves in Southern Ergoth and the appearance of the dragonarmies in northern Solamnia. This Council meeting was several months in the planning, and so all members—either seated or advisory—were represented. Seated members, those who could vote, included the Knights of Solamnia, the gnomes, the hill dwarves, the dark-skinned, sea-faring people of Northern Ergoth, and a representative of the Solamnic exiles living on Sancrist. Advisory members were the elves, the mountain dwarves, and the kender. These members were invited to express their opinions, but they could not vote.
The first Council meeting, however, had not gone well. Some of the old feuds and animosities between the races represented burst into flame. Arman Kharas, representative of the mountain