Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [90]
I’ll take it because the knight handed it to Sturm, she thought. He wanted him to have it.
At the bottom of the chest lay Tanis’s sword, Wyrmslayer, given him by Kith-Kanan. Laurana looked from the sword to the dragonlance. I can’t carry both, she thought, and started to put the lance back. But Silvara grabbed her.
“What are you doing?” Her mouth formed the words, her eyes flashed. “Take it! Take it, too!”
Laurana stared at the girl in amazement. Then, hastily, she retrieved the lance, concealed it beneath her cloak, and carefully shut the chest, leaving the sword inside. Just as the lid left her cold fingers, her father rolled over in his bed, half-sitting up.
“What? Who is there?” he asked, starting to shake off his sleep in his alarm.
Laurana felt Silvara trembling and clutched the girl’s hand reassuringly, warning her to be silent.
“It is I, Father,” she said in a faint voice. “Laurana. I—I wanted to—to tell you I am sorry, Father. And I ask you to forgive me.”
“Ah, Laurana.” The Speaker lay back down on his pillows, closing his eyes. “I forgive you, my daughter. Now return to your bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Laurana waited until his breathing became quiet and regular. Then she led Silvara from the room, gripping the dragonlance firmly beneath her cloak.
“Who goes there?” softly called a human voice in elven.
“Who asks?” replied a clear elven voice.
“Gilthanas? Is that you?”
“Theros! My friend!” The young elflord stepped swiftly from the shadows to embrace the human blacksmith. For a moment Gilthanas was so overcome he could not speak. Then, startled, he pushed back from the smith’s bearlike hug. “Theros! You have two arms! But the draconians in Solace cut off your right arm! You would have died, if Goldmoon hadn’t healed you.”
“Do you remember what that pig of a Fewmaster told me?” Theros asked in his rich, deep voice, whispering softly. “ ‘The only way you’ll get a new arm, smith, is to forge it yourself!’ Well, I did just that! The story of my adventures to find the Silver Arm I wear now is a long one—”
“And not for telling now,” grumbled another voice behind him. “Unless you want to ask a couple of thousand elves to hear it with us.”
“So you managed to escape, Gilthanas,” said Derek’s voice out of the shadows. “Did you bring the dragon orb?”
“I did not escape,” Gilthanas returned coldly. “I left my father’s house to accompany my sister and Silvara, her maid, through the darkness. Taking the orb is my sister’s idea, not mine. There is still time to reconsider this madness, Laurana.” Gilthanas turned to her. “Return the orb. Don’t let Porthios’s hasty words drive away your common sense. If we keep the orb here, we can use it to defend our people. We can find out how it works, we have magic-users among us.”
“Let’s just turn ourselves over to the guards now! Then we can get some sleep where it’s warm!” Flint’s words came out in explosive puffs of frost.
“Either sound the alarm now, elf, or let us go. At least give us time before you betray us,” Derek said.
“I have no intention of betraying you,” Gilthanas stated angrily. Ignoring the others, he turned once more to his sister. “Laurana?”
“I am determined on this course of action,” she answered slowly. “I have thought about it and I believe we are doing the right thing. So does Elistan. Silvara will guide us through the mountains—”
“I, too, know the mountains,” Theros spoke up. “I have had little to do here but wander them. And you’ll need me to get you past the guards.”
“Then we are resolved.”
“Very well.” Gilthanas sighed. “I am coming with you. If I stayed behind, Porthios would always suspect me of complicity.”
“Fine,” snapped Flint. “Can we escape now? Or do we need to wake up anyone else?”
“This way,” Theros said. “The guards are accustomed to my late night rambles. Stay in the shadows, and let me do the talking.