Dragons of a Fallen Sun

by Margaret Weis

  “Cut his bindings,” Palin ordered the elves. “He is a Solamnic Knight, as he claims.”

  The two elves were dubious, but they did as they were told, though they continued to keep a close watch on him. Gerard rose to his feet, flexed his arms, and stretched his aching muscles.

  “So you came all this way, disguised, risking your life to bring me this news,” said Palin. “I must confess that I fail to see the need for the kender. Unless the story I heard is true, that this kender really did steal a powerful magical artifact. Let us have a look at him.”

  Palin knelt down beside the sack where the kender wriggled. He stretched out his hand, started to try to untie the knots, but his deformed fingers could not manage. Gerard looked at the wizard’s fingers, looked quickly away, not wanting to seem to pity him.

  “Does the sight distress you?” Palin asked with a sneer. Standing up, he covered his hands with the sleeves of his robes. “I’ll take care not to trouble you.”

  “It does distress me, sir,” Gerard said quietly. “It distresses me to see any good man suffer as you have suffered.”

  “Suffered, yes! I was a prisoner of the Thorn Knights for three months. Three months! And not a day passed when they did not torment me in some way. Do you know why? Do you know what they wanted? They wanted to know why their magical power was waning! They thought I had something to do with it!” Palin gave a bitter laugh. “And do you want to know why they let me go? Because they realized I was not a threat! Just a broken old man who could do nothing to harm them or hinder them.”

  “They might have killed you, sir,” Gerard said.

  “It would have been better if they had,” Palin returned.

  The two were silent. Gerard looked down at the floor. Even the kender was quiet, subdued. He had quit wrigglng.

  Palin gave a soft sigh. Reaching out his broken hand, he touched Gerard’s arm.

  “Forgive me, Sir Knight,” he said in a quieter tone. “Pay no heed to what I said. I am quick to take offense these days. And I have not yet even thanked you for bringing me news of my father. I do thank you. I am sorry for his death, but I cannot grieve for him. As I said, he has gone to a better place.

  “And now,” Palin added with a shrewd look at the young Knight, “I am beginning to think that this sad news alone has not brought you all this way. Wearing this disguise puts you in great danger, Gerard. If the Dark Knights were to discover the truth, you would endure torment far worse than what I suffered, and then you would be executed.”

  Palin’s thin lips formed a bitter smile. “What other news do you have for me? It can’t be good. No one would risk his life to bring me good news. And how could you know that you would find me?”

  “I did not find you, sir,” Gerard said. “You found me.”

  Palin looked puzzled, at first, then he nodded. “Ah, I understand. The mention of the artifact that once belonged to my Uncle Raistlin. You knew that would pique my interest.”

  “I hoped it would do so, sir,” said Gerard. “My guess was that either the elf posted at the bridge would be part of the resistance movement or the bridge itself would be under observation. I trusted that the mention of an artifact coupled with the name Majere would be carried to you.”

  “You ran a great risk in trusting yourself to the elves. As you found out, there are those who would have no compunction in slaying one of your kind.”

  Gerard glanced at the two elves, Kalindas and Kelevandros, if he had heard the names right. They had not shifted their eyes from him once, kept their hands on the hilts of their swords.

  “I am aware of that, sir,” said Gerard. “But this seemed the only way to reach you.”

  “So I take it there is no artifact?” Palin said, adding in a tone of bitter disappointment. “It was all a ruse.”

  “On the contrary, sir, there is an artifact. That is part of the reason I came.”

  At this, the kender’s squeaks started up again, louder and more insistent. He began to drum his feet on the floor, and he rolled about wildly in his sack.

  “For mercy’s sake, shut him up,” Palin ordered irritably. “His screeching will summon every Dark Knight in Qualinesti. Carry him inside.”

  “We should leave him in the sack, Master,” said Kalindas. “We do not want him finding his way back here.”

  “Very well,” Palin agreed.

  One of the elves picked up the kender, sack and all. The other elf glared sternly at Gerard and asked a question.

  “No,” Palin answered. “We do not need to blindfold him. He belongs to the old school of Knights: those who still believe in honor.”

  The elf carrying the kender walked toward the back of the cave and, to Gerard’s intense astonishment, continued right through solid stone. Palin followed, placing his hand on Gerard’s arm and propelling the Knight forward. The illusion of stone was so convincing that it was all Gerard could do to keep from wincing as he walked into what looked like a wall of sharp and jagged rocks.

  “Some magic still works apparently,” Gerard said, impressed.

  “Some,” Palin said. “But it is erratic. The spell can fail at any moment and must be constantly renewed.”

  Gerard emerged from the wall to find himself in a garden of wondrous beauty, shaded by trees whose branches and thick leaves formed a solid curtain above and around them. Kalindas carried the bagged kender through the wall, deposited him on the flagstone walk of the garden. Chairs made of bent willow branches and a table made of crystal stood beside a shining pool of clear water.

  Palin said something to Kelevandros. Gerard caught the name, “Laurana.” The elf departed, running lightly through the garden.

  “You have loyal guardians, sir,” said Gerard, looking after the elf.

  “They belong to the household of the Queen Mother,” Palin replied. “They have been in Laurana’s service for years, ever since her husband died. Sit down.”

  He made a motion with his crooked hands and a fall of water began, streaming down in front of the illusionary wall to splash into the pool below.

  “I have sent to inform the Queen Mother of your arrival. You are now a guest in her house. Or rather, one of the gardens in her house. Here, you are safe, as safe as anyone is in these dark times.”

  Thankfully, Gerard removed the heavy breastplate and rubbed his bruised ribs. He laved his face with the cool water and drank deeply.

  “Let the kender out now,” Palin ordered.

  Kalindas untied the sack and the kender emerged, flushed and indignant, his long hair covering his face. He sucked in a huge breath and wiped his forehead.

  “Whew! I was getting really sick of smelling nothing but sack.”

  Flipping his topknot back over his head, the kender looked around with interest.

  “My,” he said. “This garden is pretty. Are there fish in that pool? Could I catch one, do you think? It was certainly stuffy in that sack, and I much prefer riding a horse sitting up on the saddle instead of lying down. I have a sort of pain here in my side where something poked me. I would introduce myself,” he said contritely, apparently realizing that he wasn’t conforming to the mores of polite society, “but I’m suffering from”—he caught Gerard’s eye and said, with emphasis, “I am suffering from a severe bump on the head and I’m not quite certain who I am. You look awfully familiar to me. Have we met?”

  Palin Majere had said nothing through this diatribe. His face had gone livid. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “Sir.” Gerard reached out a supporting hand. “Sir, you should sit down. You don’t look well.”

  “I have no need of your support,” Palin snapped, shoving aside Gerard’s hand. He stared at the kender.

  “Quit the nonsense,” he said coldly. “Who are you?”

  “Who do you think I am?” the kender parried.

  Palin seemed about to make an angry rejoinder, but he closed his lips over the words and, after drawing in a deep breath, he said tightly, “You look like a kender I once
knew named Tasslehoff Burrfoot.”

  “And you look sort of like a friend of mine named Palin Majere.” The kender was gazing at Palin with interest.

  “I am Palin Majere. Who are—”

  “Really?” The kender’s eyes opened wide. “You’re Palin? What happened to you? You look terrible! Have you been sick? And your poor hands. Let me see them. You said the Dark Knights did that to you? How? Did they smash your finger bones with a hammer, ’cause that’s what it looks like—”

  Palin drew his sleeves over his hands, moved away from the kender. “You say you know me, kender? How?”

  “I just saw you at Caramon’s first funeral. You and I had a nice long chat, all about the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth and you being head of the White Robes, and Dalamar was there, and he was Head of the Conclave, and his girl friend Jenna was Head of the Red Robes, and—”

  Palin frowned, looked at Gerard. “What is he talking about?”

  “Don’t pay any attention to him, sir. He’s been acting crazy ever since I found him.” Gerard looked strangely at Palin. “You said he resembled ‘Tasslehoff.’ That’s who he claimed to be, until he started all this nonsense about having amnesia. I know it sounds odd, but your father also thought he was Tasslehoff.”

  “My father was an old man,” Palin said, “and like many old men, he was probably reliving the days of his youth. And yet,” he added softly, almost to himself, “he certainly does look like Tasslehoff!”

  “Palin?” A voice called to him from the far end of the garden. “What is this Kelevandros tells me?”

  Gerard turned to see an elven woman, beautiful as a winter’s twilight, walking toward them along the flagstones. Her hair was long and the color of honey mingled with sunlight. She was dressed in robes of a pearly diaphanous material, so that she seemed to be clothed in mist. Catching sight of Gerard, she regarded him in disbelief, too outraged at first to pay any attention to the kender, who was jumping up and down and waving his hand in excitement.

  Gerard, confused and awe-struck, made an awkward bow.

  “You have brought a Dark Knight here, Palin!” Laurana turned on him in anger. “To our hidden garden! What is the reason for this?”

  “He is not a Dark Knight, Laurana,” Palin explained tersely, “as I told Kelevandros. Apparently, he doubts me. This man is Gerard uth Mondar, Knight of Solamnia, a friend of my father’s from Solace.”

  Laurana looked at Gerard skeptically. “Are you certain, Palin? Then why is he wearing that foul armor?”

  “I wear the armor for disguise only, my lady,” Gerard said. “And, as you see, I have taken the first opportunity I could to cast it aside.”

  “This was the only way he could enter Qualinesti,” Palin added.

  “I beg your pardon, Sir Knight,” Laurana said, extending a hand that was white and delicate. Yet, when he took it, he felt the calluses on her palm from her days when she had carried a shield and wielded a sword, the days when she had been the Golden General. “Forgive me. Welcome to my home.”

  Gerard bowed again in profound respect. He wanted to say something graceful and correct, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth, just as his hands and feet felt big and clumsy. He flushed deeply and stammered something that died away in a muddle.

  “Me, Laurana! Look at me!” The kender called out.

  Laurana turned now to take a good look at the kender and appeared astonished at what she saw. Her lips parted, her jaw went slack. Putting her hand to her heart, she fell back a step, staring all the while at the kender.

  “Alshana, Quenesti-Pah!” she whispered. “It cannot be!”

  Palin was watching her closely. “You recognize him, as well.”

  “Why, yes! It’s Tasslehoff!” Laurana cried dazedly. “But how—Where—”

  “I am Tasslehoff?” The kender looked anxious. “Are you certain?”

  “What makes you think you’re not?” Laurana asked.

  “I always thought I was,” Tas said solemnly. “But no one else did, and so I thought perhaps I’d made a mistake. But if you say I am Tasslehoff, Laurana, I suppose that settles it. You of all people wouldn’t be likely to make a mistake. Would you mind if I gave you a hug?”

  Tas flung his arms around Laurana’s waist. She looked confusedly over his head from Palin back to Gerard, asking silently for an explanation.

  “Are you in earnest?” Gerard demanded. “Begging your pardon, my lady,” he added, flushing, realizing he’d come close to calling the Queen Mother a liar, “but Tasslehoff Burrfoot has been dead for over thirty years. How could this be possible? Unless—”

  “Unless what?” Palin asked sharply.

  “Unless his whole wild tale is somehow true.” Gerard fell silent, pondering this unforeseen development.

  “But, Tas, where have you been?” Laurana asked, removing one of her rings from his hand just as the ring was disappearing down his shirt front. “As Sir Gerard said, we thought you were dead!”

  “I know. I saw the tomb. Very nice.” Tas nodded. “That’s where I met Sir Gerard. I do think you might work to keep the grounds cleaner—all the dogs you know—and the tomb itself is not in good repair. It was hit by lightning when I was inside it. I heard the most tremendous boom, and some of the marble fell off. And it was awfully dark inside. A few windows would sort of brighten the place—”

  “We should go somewhere to talk, Palin,” Gerard interrupted urgently. “Some place private.”

  “I agree. Laurana, the Knight has brought other sad news. My father is dead.”

  “Oh!” Laurana put her hand to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, I am sorry, Palin. My heart grieves for him, yet grief seems wrong. He is happy now,” she added in wistful envy. “He and Tika are together. Come inside,” she added, glancing about the garden where Tasslehoff was now wading in the ornamental pond, displacing the water lilies and terrorizing the fish. “We should not discuss this out here.” She sighed. “I fear that even my garden is not safe anymore.”

  “What happened, Laurana?” Palin demanded. “What do you mean the garden is not safe?”

  Laurana sighed, a line marred her smooth forehead. “I spoke to Marshal Medan at the masquerade last night. He suspects me of having dealings with the rebels. He urged me to use my influence to make them cease their acts of terror and disruption. The dragon Beryl is grown paranoid lately. She threatenes to send her armies to attack us. We are not yet prepared if she should.”

  “Pay no heed to Medan, Laurana. He is concerned only with saving his own precious skin,” said Palin.

  “I believe that he means well, Palin,” Laurana returned. “Medan has no love for the dragon.”

  “He has no love for anyone except himself. Don’t be fooled by his show of concern. Medan avoids trouble for Medan, that is all. He is caught in a quandary. If the attacks and sabotage continue, his superiors will relieve him of his command, and from what I’ve heard of their new Lord of the Night Targonne, Medan might well be relieved of his head. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go divest myself of this heavy cloak. I will meet you in the atrium.”

  Palin departed, the folds of his black traveling cloak sweeping behind him. His stance was straight, his walk quick and firm. Laurana looked after him, troubled.

  “Madam,” said Gerard, finding his tongue at last. “I agree with Palin. You must not trust this Marshal Medan. He is a Dark Knight, and although they speak of honor and sacrifice their words are empty and hollow as their souls.”

  “I know you are right,” Laurana said. “Still, I have seen the seed of good fall in the darkest swamp to grow strong and beautiful though it was poisoned by the most noxious miasma. And I have seen the same seed, nurtured by the softest rains and the brightest sunshine, grow twisted and ugly, to bear a bitter fruit.”

  She continued to gaze after Palin. Sighing, she shook her head and turned around. “Come along, Tas. I would like you and Gerard to see the rest of the wonders I have in my house.”

  Cheerfully dr
ipping, Tasslehoff climbed out of the pond. “You go ahead, Gerard. I want to talk to Laurana alone for a moment. It’s a secret,” he added.

  Laurana smiled at the kender. “Very well, Tas. Tell me your secret. Kalindas,” she said to the elf who had been waiting silently all this time, “escort Gerard to the house. Show him to one of the guest rooms.”

  Kalindas did as commanded. As he showed Gerard the way to the house, the elf’s tone was gracious, but he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  When they were alone, Laurana turned to the kender.

  “Yes, Tas,” she said. “What is it?”

  Tas looked extremely anxious. “This is very important, Laurana. Are you sure I’m Tasslehoff? Are you extremely sure?”

  “Yes, Tas, I’m sure,” Laurana said, smiling indulgently. “I don’t know how or why, but I am quite certain you are Tasslehoff.”

  “It’s just that I don’t feel like Tasslehoff,” Tas continued earnestly.

  “You don’t seem yourself, Tas, that is true,” Laurana replied. “You are not as joyful as I remember you to be. Perhaps you are grieving for Caramon. He led a full life, Tas, a life of love and wonder and joy. He had his share of sorrow and trouble, but the dark days only made the days of light shine brighter. You were his good friend. He loved you. Don’t be sad. He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

  “That’s not what’s making me unhappy,” Tas protested. “That is, I was unhappy when Caramon died because it was so unexpected, even though I was expecting it. And I still sometimes have a lump of unhappiness right here in my throat when I think about him being gone, but I can manage a lump. It’s the other feeling I can’t manage, because I never felt anything like it before.”

  “I see. Perhaps we could talk about this later, Tas,” Laurana said and started toward the house.