Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [96]
“Your brother might have something to do with that.”
“He’s an elflord—” Laurana began angrily. Then, realizing what she had been about to say, she broke off. “What do you know of Silvara?” she asked instead.
“Little,” Theros answered, regarding Laurana with a disappointed look that made her unreasonably angry. “I know she is highly respected and much loved by her people, especially for her healing skills.”
“And her spying skills?” Laurana asked coolly.
“These people are fighting for their own survival. They do what they must,” Theros said sternly. “That was a fine talk you made back on the beach, Laurana. I almost believed it.”
The blacksmith went to help the Kaganesti hide the boats. Laurana, angry and ashamed, bit her lip in frustration. Was Theros right? Was she jealous of Gilthanas’s attention? Did she consider Silvara unworthy of him? It was how Gilthanas had always considered Tanis, certainly. Was this different?
Listen to your feelings, Raistlin had told her. That was all very well, but first she had to understand her feelings! Hadn’t her love for Tanis taught her anything?
Yes, Laurana decided finally, her mind clearing. She’d meant what she’d said to Theros. If there was something about Silvara she didn’t trust, it had nothing to do with the fact that Gilthanas was attracted to the girl. It was something indefinable. Laurana was sorry Theros had misunderstood her, but she would take Raistlin’s advice and trust her instincts.
She would keep an eye on Silvara.
5
Silvara.
Although every muscle in Gilthanas’s body cried for rest and he thought he couldn’t crawl into his bedroll soon enough, the elflord found himself wide awake, staring into the sky. Storm clouds still hung thickly overhead, but a breeze tinged with salt air was blowing from the west, breaking them up. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of stars, and once the red moon flickered in the sky like a candle flame, then was snuffed out by the clouds.
The elf tried to get comfortable, turning and twisting until his bedroll was a shambles, then he had to sit up and untangle himself. Finally he gave up, deciding it was impossible to sleep on the hard, frozen ground.
None of the rest of his companions seemed to be having any problems, he noticed bitterly. Laurana lay sleeping soundly, her cheek resting on her hand as was her habit from childhood. How strangely she’d been acting lately, Gilthanas thought. But then, he supposed he could hardly blame her. She had given up everything to do what she believed right and take the orb to Sancrist. Their father might have accepted her back into the family once, but now she was an outcast forever.
Gilthanas sighed. What about himself? He’d wanted to keep the orb in Qualin-Mori. He believed his father was right.… Or did he?
Apparently not, since I’m here, Gilthanas told himself. By the gods, his values were getting as muddled as Laurana’s! First, his hatred for Tanis—a hatred he’d nurtured righteously for years—was starting to dwindle away, replaced by admiration, even affection. Next, he’d felt his hatred of other races beginning to die. He’d known few elves as noble or self-sacrificing as the human, Sturm Brightblade. And, though he didn’t like Raistlin, he envied the young mage’s skill. It was something Gilthanas, a dabbler in magic, had never had the patience or the courage to acquire. Finally, he had to admit he even liked the kender and the grumpy old dwarf. But he had never thought he would fall in love with a Wilder elf.
“There!” Gilthanas said aloud. “I’ve admitted it. I love her!” But was it love, he wondered, or simply physical attraction. At that, he grinned, thinking of Silvara with her dirt-streaked face, her filthy hair, her tattered clothes. My soul’s eye must be seeing more clearly than my head, he thought, glancing fondly over at her bedroll.
To his astonishment, he saw it was empty! Startled, Gilthanas looked quickly around the camp. They had not dared light a fire—not only were the Qualinesti after them, but Theros had talked of groups of draconians roaming the land.
Thinking