Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [89]
“Sturm! Sturm Brightblade!” said the shapeless mass.
Sturm stared, trying to remember the voice. It was familiar. Thoughts of Solace flooded his mind. “Theros!” he gasped. “Theros Ironfeld! What are you doing here? The last I saw you, you were lying near death in the elven kingdom!”
The huge blacksmith of Solace struggled down through the opening in the ceiling, bringing part of the roof with him. He landed heavily, waking the dwarf, who sat up and peered, bleary-eyed, at the apparition in the center of the cabin.
“What—” the dwarf started up, fumbling for his battle-axe which was no longer by his side.
“Hush!” the smith commanded. “No time for questions. The Lady Laurana sent me to free you. We’re to meet her in the woods beyond the camp. Make haste! We have only a few hours before dawn and we must be across the river by then.” Theros strode over to look at Tasslehoff, who was trying without success to free himself. “Well, master thief, I see someone caught you at last.”
“I’m not a thief!” Tas said indignantly. “You know me better than that, Theros. That purse was planted on me—”
The smith chuckled. Taking hold of the chain in his hands, he gave a sudden heave and it split apart. Tasslehoff, however, did not even notice. He was staring at the smith’s arms. One arm, the left, was a dusky black, the color of the smith’s skin. But the other arm, the right, was bright, shining silver!
“Theros,” Tas said in a strangled voice. “Your arm—”
“Questions later, little thief,” the smith said sternly. “Now we move swift and now we move silent.”
“Across the river,” Flint moaned, shaking his head. “More boats. More boats …”
“I want to see the Speaker,” Laurana told the guard at the door to her father’s suite of rooms.
“It is late,” the guard said. “The Speaker is sleeping.”
Laurana drew back her hood. The guard bowed. “Forgive me, Princess. I did not recognize you.”
He glanced at Silvara suspiciously. “Who is that with you?”
“My maid. I would not travel at night by myself.”
“No, of course not,” the guard said hurriedly as he opened the door. “Go ahead. His sleeping room is the third one down the hall on your right.”
“Thank you,” Laurana answered and brushed past the guard. Silvara, muffled in a voluminous cape, swept softly after her.
“The chest is in his room, at the foot of his bed,” Laurana whispered to Silvara. “Are you sure you can carry the dragon orb? It is big and very heavy.”
“It’s not that big,” Silvara murmured, staring perplexed at Laurana. “Only about so—” She made a gesture with her hands roughly the shape of a child’s ball.
“No,” Laurana said, frowning. “You have not seen it. It is nearly two feet in diameter. That’s why I had you wear that long cape.”
Silvara stared at her in wonder. Laurana shrugged. “Well, we can’t stand here arguing. We’ll figure something out when the time comes.”
The two crept down the hallway, silently as kender, until they came to the bedroom.
Holding her breath, fearing that even her heartbeat was too loud, Laurana pressed on the door. It opened with a creaking sound that made her grit her teeth. Next to her, Silvara shivered in fear. A figure in the bed stirred and turned over—her mother. Laurana saw her father, even in his sleep, put out his hand to pat her reassuringly. Tears dimmed Laurana’s eyes. Tightening her lips resolutely, she gripped Silvara’s hand and slipped inside the room.
The chest stood at the end of her father’s bed. It was locked, but the companions all carried a copy of the small silver key. Swiftly Laurana unlocked the chest and lifted the lid. Then she nearly dropped it in her amazement. The dragon orb was there, still glowing with the soft white and blue light. But it wasn’t the same orb! Or if it was, it had shrunk! As Silvara said, it was now no more than the size of a child’s playing ball! Laurana reached in to take it. It was still heavy, but she could lift it easily. Gingerly grasping it, her hand shaking, she raised