Dragons of Summer Flame

by Tracy Hickman

Dreadful hands. Hands of chill death.

  Steel was at Palin’s back.

  “What are those!” the knight hissed in Palin’s ear.

  “The guardians of the tower,” Palin warned. “Don’t … don’t let them near you.”

  The eyes glided close. There must have been a hundred, shining pale and cold in Nuitari’s light.

  “How in the name of the Abyss am I supposed to stop them?” Steel crowded near Palin, guarding the mage’s back, as Palin guarded the knight’s. “Do something! Say something!”

  “I am Palin Majere,” Palin called loudly. “Give way!”

  Majere … Majere … Majere …

  The name echoed off the tower’s stone walls, reverberated through the courtyard like the ringing of discordant bells, ended in mocking laughter.

  Palin shuddered. Steel’s jaw tightened. The knight’s face glistened with sweat.

  The eyes drew nearer, closing in. White, disembodied hands appeared out of the darkness. Skeletal fingers pointed at the fast-beating hearts of the two living beings. One touch, and their blood would freeze, the heartbeat cease.

  “In the name of Chemosh, I command you to stand aside!” Steel yelled suddenly.

  The eyes gleamed—but only with anger.

  “I wouldn’t mention that name again,” Palin advised softly. “Only one god is respected here.”

  “Then you do something, Sir Mage!” Steel said harshly.

  “I have come to see Dalamar,” Palin explained desperately. “I have come to visit your master.”

  A lie … a lie … a lie …

  The words were like the rustle of unseen, ragged robes, the creaking of bony fingers, the flicker in the white, chill eyes.

  The spectral guardians moved closer still, formed a circle around the mage and the knight. The two stood back to back, Palin with his staff raised, Steel holding his sword. But the staff’s crystal was dimming fast. Steel made a swipe at one of the specters with his blade. The sword whistled, sliced up nothing but the night. The specters moved closer.

  “Uncle!” Palin cried. “It is to you I come! Uncle, I need your help!”

  The door to the tower opened. Darkness flowed from it. The specters halted their advance; the cold, pale eyes turned that direction.

  Palin trembled as fear, elation, awe swept over him. He leaned forward toward the darkness.

  “Uncle?” he cried.

  A voice answered, “Don’t move! Stay right where you are! I’m coming! I’m coming! I’ll save you!”

  Out of the darkness ran Tasslehoff Burrfoot.

  21

  The gate opens. Nuitari’s garden.

  The way is prepared.

  ncle Tas!” Palin gasped in astonishment.

  “I take it this was not the uncle you had in mind,” Steel said grimly.

  “No.” Palin was baffled. “I never—”

  “I’ve … got it right here!” The elder kender was puffing with the exertion of his run. He paused on the stairs leading to the tower door, waving something shiny in the air. “Don’t worry …”

  “Don’t come any closer, Tas!” Palin cried fearfully. “Go back! Go back inside!”

  “No, no!” Tas called back. “You don’t understand. I have it! You’ll be safe now!”

  And before Palin could say another word, the kender dashed down the stairs and ran straight for the specters.

  The dim light of the staff flashed off the object in the kender’s hand: a silver spoon.

  “Be gone, foul wraiths!” Tas commanded, using a deep, gruff, authoritative voice, such as he imagined a cleric might use. The gruffness proved too much for him to maintain, however; he ended up half-strangling himself. In between the hacks and splutters, he managed to repeat, “Be gone, I say! Be gone! Go away!”

  He waved the spoon at the specters.

  “We’re going to die,” Steel said.

  “No,” said Palin, after a moment’s astounded watching. “No, we’re not.”

  Two by two, the chill eyes closed. The deathly white hands drew back into unseen sleeves. The courtyard was empty. The entrance to the tower stood open.

  The light of Palin’s staff shone bright in Tas’s eyes as he came bounding up to greet them. “The Kender Spoon of Turning,” Tas said proudly, holding it up for Palin’s inspection.

  Palin was about to examine the spoon to see if it was in any way magical, but before he could do so, Tas stuffed the spoon into a convenient pouch and moved on to other matters.

  He held out his small hand to Steel. “How do you do?” the kender said politely. “I’m Tasslehoff Burrfoot. My friends call me Tas. Except for Palin,” he added, as an afterthought. “He calls me ‘Uncle Tas.’ I’m not really his uncle. Caramon and I are not related. I’m a friend of the family. They used to call me ‘Granpa’ when they were littler than me, but that seemed a bit silly when they all got bigger, so, after some discussion, we changed it to ‘Uncle.’ I had an Uncle Trapspringer once. He was the one with the spoon. My, that certainly is remarkable armor. So wonderfully evil-looking with those skulls and death lilies. I know! You must be a Knight of Takhisis! I’ve heard about you, but I’ve never met one. This is a real privilege. Did I mention that my name is Tasslehoff Burrfoot?”

  “I do not discourse with kender,” Steel said.

  “Even those who save your life?” Palin asked softly.

  Steel regarded Tas grimly, finally made a stiff bow. “Steel Brightblade.”

  “I know you! Tanis told me about you! You’re Sturm’s son! Sturm and I were great friends!” Tas flung himself forward for a hug.

  He was halted by Steel’s hand on his head, holding the kender at arm’s length.

  “It is probable, though not very likely, that I owe you my life, Kender,” Steel said coldly. “I am honor-bound to repay the debt, but I am not bound to allow you near my person. I advise you, therefore, to keep clear of me.” With that, he shoved Tas backward.

  Palin caught hold of Tas, steadied him.

  “I forgot,” Tas said in a loud whisper, wincing and rubbing his head, “he’s Kitiara’s son, too!”

  Palin was about to advise that it might be beneficial to Tas’s health if he steered clear of the knight when a woman’s voice called out from inside the tower.

  “Tasslehoff! Where are you? Tas? Where did you go?”

  Palin raised his gaze, looked toward the door. He breathed a soft sigh. The specters had nearly chilled his heart. Now he felt it catch fire.

  A woman like no other he had ever seen in his life stood in the doorway. Masses of silver hair framed a face that was alluring, kept its secrets, yet—by the wide, eager, golden eyes—seemed to require that others give to her all of their own mysteries. Her clothes, made of brightly colored, flowing silk, were outlandish, like no well-bred woman in this part of the country would have worn. Yet, they suited her. She was as exotic, as entrancing, as if she’d fallen from a star.

  “Tas!” she called, relief in her voice. She ran down the stairs. “Thank the gods I’ve found you! Now we can get out of here—”

  She halted, stared at Steel and Palin. “Oh.” She glanced sideways at Tas, sidled nearer the kender. “Who are these two gentlemen?”

  “Friends of mine!” said Tas enthusiastically. “This is Steel Brightblade. He’s Sturm’s son. Sturm was a Knight of Solamnia and one of my very best friends. He’s Kitiara’s son, too, but she wasn’t a knight. She was a Dragon Highlord and not exactly a friend, more of an acquaintance. This is Usha.”

  “My lady,” Palin said, staring at the woman, enthralled. But he was disappointed to see her gaze stray to the knight. She tried a tentative smile.

  Steel didn’t even look at her; his eyes searched the tower windows for signs of danger.

  Usha gazed at him longer, studying the armor, which she could now see clearly in the moonlight. Her smile disappeared, her eyes darkened. Her voice trembled in anger. “They were like you—the ones who came. They treated us as if we were dirt beneath their feet
. Why did you have to come to ruin our lives?” she cried suddenly. “What did we do to you? We were no threat!”

  Now Steel turned his gaze on her, regarded her with interest. “What city are you from, Lady? Kalaman? Has it, in truth, fallen to our might?”

  Usha opened her mouth, started to answer, seemed to find the answering difficult. At length, she said, “No, not Kalaman. Near there …” Her voice dwindled a moment, then came back strong. “You had no right to invade our homeland!”

  “Whatever wrongs you imagine were done to you were done in the name of progress, my lady,” Steel returned. “You cannot be expected to understand, so I will not attempt to explain.” His gaze shifted immediately back to the tower. He still held his sword in his hand. “We have business here, Majere, if you remember.”

  “I remember,” Palin said, though just barely.

  Usha had turned those wonderful eyes on him. “What is your name, sir?” she asked, her cheeks flushing beneath his unabashedly admiring gaze.

  “Palin Majere,” he said softly. “And yours? I … I didn’t quite catch it.”

  “Usha,” she replied archly.

  “Usha Majere!” cried Tas, hopping about in excitement. “Isn’t this great? Usha’s Raistlin’s daughter! I’ve found Raistlin’s daughter.”

  “No!” Palin cried, stricken.

  “What?” Usha, frightened by his intensity, backed away from him a step. “What’s wrong?”

  “I … I am Raistlin’s nephew! Caramon Majere is my father and your uncle. We’re cousins,” Palin said miserably. “First cousins!”

  “Is that all?” Usha breathed again. “We’re first cousins. I don’t mind,” she said, and she smiled at him.

  Her smile glittered around Palin like cascading Stardust. He was so dazzled, he could scarcely see.

  “Their fathers were twins,” Tas said, by way of explanation.

  “Now that we have the genealogy straightened out,” Steel said acidly, “might I remind you once again, Majere, that time draws short and we have important work to do inside the tower?”

  “Inside?” Usha looked back fearfully at the tower, shifted her shadowed gaze to Palin. “You’re going inside?”

  “We just got outside,” Tas informed them, adding, proudly, “Dalamar was holding us both prisoner.”

  Palin was dubious. “Why would Dalamar hold you prisoner?”

  “Does it matter? You came through the grove,” Usha said, talking rapidly, not giving Tas a chance to respond. She took hold of Palin’s hand, gazed into his eyes. “The Red Robe inside said you must be an immensely powerful wizard to have done such a thing.” She leaned close, whispered in his ear. “You and the knight could take us back through the grove, and we could get away from this terrible place!”

  Her hand was smooth, soft. Her touch sent the Stardust glittering through his blood.

  “I can’t leave, Mistress,” Palin said, still retaining her hand. “I have something here I must do. And you shouldn’t try to escape either, not through the Shoikan Grove. It’s too dangerous. We barely survived.” He turned to Tasslehoff. “I don’t understand. Why is Dalamar holding you prisoner?”

  “Because she’s Raistlin’s daughter, of course,” Tas answered, his tone matter-of-fact.

  Of course. Palin had guessed the answer even before he had asked the question. Dalamar would be very glad to get hold of the daughter of Raistlin Majere. And then it occurred to Palin, with a pang, that perhaps she was the reason the voice had led him here. Perhaps his uncle merely needed a guide for the person in whom he was truly interested—his daughter.

  Palin withdrew his hand from her grasp. Jealousy gnawed at him, its poisoned teeth biting deep. He was attracted to this woman, jealous of her at the same time, and he understood, finally, the bittersweet relationship that had existed between his father and his father’s twin.

  Usha felt his sudden coldness, more chill than the specters. She stared at him in puzzled dismay, involuntarily drew away from him.

  “You won’t help us escape? That’s fine. I will go through the grove myself,” she said haughtily.

  “No, Usha, I’m afraid not,” said Palin, his voice raw-edged. “There’s a reason you’re here—”

  “Why? Did Raistlin send for her?” Tas wondered cheerfully. “I thought Raistlin was dead. Do you think he’s dead, Palin? You don’t, do you! That’s why you’re here!” The kender was wildly excited.

  “Majere—” Steel began impatiently.

  “I know. I know! Come on.” Palin took hold of Usha’s arm, started to lead her inside the tower. “We’re going to have a talk with Dalamar—”

  “He isn’t here!” Usha said, breaking away from Palin’s grasp. “He’s gone to some wizard’s something in somewhere—”

  “The Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth,” Tas filled in. “A Conclave. I was at one once. Did I ever tell you about the time Par-Salian turned me into a mouse? Well, I suppose I was the one who turned myself into a mouse, but—”

  “Dalamar’s gone,” Palin murmured.

  I will deal with Dalamar.…

  His uncle had promised. It might all be coincidence, but Palin doubted it. Raistlin was actively working to aid him. But for what purpose? To what end?

  “We’d better hurry, then, before Dalamar gets back.” Palin started toward the tower door.

  A red-robed mage stood inside, blocking entry.

  “What are you two doing here? How did you get through the Shoikan Grove and past the guardians? Where are the guardians?”

  Palin opened his mouth. He wasn’t much good at lying, but in this instance, the truth would hardly do. He was about to speak when Tasslehoff interrupted.

  “They have been summoned by Dalamar,” Tas announced importantly. “As for the guardians, I sent them away with the Kender Spoon of Turning.” He exhibited the spoon for inspection.

  The mage stared at it, stared at Palin and Steel, stared around the empty courtyard. He looked confused and suspicious.

  “Lord Dalamar sent for you,” he repeated. “A White Robe and a dark knight?”

  “Makes for a nice balance, don’t you think?” Tas said, adding, “And how else could they have come through the grove unless Dalamar gave them charms to help them? Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to go upstairs to Dalamar’s chambers.” Tas looked back around at Palin. “That’s where you want to go, isn’t it?” he asked in a loud whisper.

  The Red Robe frowned. Steel glowered. He had sheathed his sword, but his hand rested on the hilt. “I am Steel Brightblade, Knight of Takhisis. I have come on a mission. Lord Dalamar did not—”

  “—expect us this early,” Tas chimed in loudly and shrilly. “Tell Cousin Steel to keep quiet and let me handle this,” he whispered again to Palin, who hoped devoutly that Steel hadn’t heard his new appellation.

  Tas started moving toward the door. Waving his hand behind his back, he motioned for the others to follow. “We’ll just wait for Dalamar in his room. We’d like some tarbean tea, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Come on, Usha.”

  Steel followed the kender. Palin was about to, but he noticed that Usha held back. She twisted her hands together nervously, looked up at the tower in dread.

  “I just got out of there,” she protested. “I don’t want to go back!”

  The Red Robe was now deeply suspicious.

  “You said you were going to study magic with us, Mistress, apprentice yourself to Lord Dalamar. What’s going on here?”

  “I … I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Usha replied. “I need to go somewhere and think it over. Somewhere else! As for studying magic, perhaps I don’t need to study, not anymore. I’m quite powerful enough as I am.”

  “Usha,” Palin began.

  Steel caught hold of him.

  “Let her go,” the knight said. “We’re wasting time.”

  Angrily, Palin shook himself loose. “No matter how powerful she is in magic, she’ll die if she walks into that grove. Besides,” he added in a l
ow voice, “it is possible that we’re here because of her.”

  “What? Why?” Steel glanced at the woman without interest.

  “Because if she is Raistlin’s daughter, he may be attempting to reach her.”

  Steel gazed at Palin intently.

  “It may be the daughter Raistlin wants, not the nephew.” Steel shrugged. “He may open the Portal for her? Perhaps you are right. It doesn’t matter to me, as long as the Portal opens. Bring her along.”

  Palin walked slowly back to Usha.

  “You can’t leave, Mistress,” he said. “I ask you to stay with me. Trust me. We’ll figure something out.”

  She looked up at him with her golden eyes. Her gaze was cold, but he saw, now that he was closer, that the frost was a covering for fear. She looked as terrified as a lost child.

  “I’ll come with you,” she said softly. “But you must stay with me.”

  She was warm, her skin soft. Her silver hair, brushing his face, sent tingles of desire through his body. He had never felt this wonderful—or been in such bitter turmoil—in his entire life. Stay with her! He had to enter the Abyss.

  The Red Robe, having thought matters over, apparently decided that the kender was right; the best place for this odd group was locked up safely in his lord’s chambers.

  “I’ll accompany you up the stairs to Lord Dalamar’s room,” the Red Robe announced. “We’ll wait for my lord together.”

  This wouldn’t do at all, as Steel reminded Palin with a grim look. They had to find the Portal to the Abyss and had better find it while Dalamar was gone.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Tas said politely. “We know the way. And, besides, Palin’s been here before. He’s a close personal friend of Dalamar’s.”

  The Red Robe raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Don’t you recognize him?” Tasslehoff exclaimed. “He’s Palin Majere! Raistlin Majere’s nephew! Usha is Raistlin’s daughter. And this”—the kender waved his hand at Steel Brightblade—“is Raistlin Majere’s half-nephew. I think that’s right.” The kender’s brow furrowed in thought. “Let’s see. Kitiara was Raistlin’s half-sister. Perhaps that would make Steel only a quarter of a nephew—”