Tanis knew he was right. He knew Raistlin and his analogy about the carrot was right. Staying here was dangerous. Every day that passed could be bringing their enemies closer. He didn’t want to admit it. Tanis Half-Elven had traveled the world for five years, searching for himself. He thought he’d found himself, only to discover on his return that he wasn’t who he’d thought he was.
He would have liked to have spent some time—even just a little while—in a quiet place he could call home, a place where he could think, figure out some things. A cave shared with an irascible old dwarf and a pilfering and sometimes highly annoying kender wasn’t Tanis’s ideal home, but—compared to the road—it seemed very attractive.
“That is good reasoning, my friend, but Hederick will say that it is not the true reason you want to leave,” Tanis pointed out. “You and your people want to go back to your homeland. You want to return to the Plains of Dust.”
“We want to reclaim what is ours,” said Riverwind, “what was taken from us.”
“There is nothing left,” said Tanis gently, thinking of the burned-out village of Que-shu.
“We are left,” said Riverwind.
Tanis shivered. The sun had ducked behind a cloud, and he was chilled. He had long feared that this was Riverwind’s intent.
“So you and your people plan to strike out on your own.”
“We have not yet decided,” said Riverwind, “but that is the direction our thinking is tending.”
“Look, Riverwind,” said Tanis. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but your Plainsmen have been an immense help to us. These people are not accustomed to living like this. Before they were slaves, they were shopkeepers and merchants, farmers and cobblers. They came from cities like Haven and Solace and a host of other towns and villages around Abanasinia. They’ve never had to live off the land. They don’t know how.”
“And for centuries, these city-dwellers have looked down on us,” said Riverwind. “They call us barbarians, savages.”
And you call me a half-elf, Tanis thought, but did not say aloud. Instead he said, “When we were all of us prisoners, you put all the old hatreds and misunderstandings aside. We worked together to help each other escape. Why dredge that up now?”
“Because others brought it up first,” Riverwind said harshly.
“Hederick,” said Tanis, sighing. “The man’s an ass, plain and simple. You know that; although, it’s because he’s an ass that we met you and Goldmoon.”
Riverwind smiled at the memory. “True,” he said, his voice softening. “I have not forgotten.”
“Hederick falls into the fire. Goldmoon’s blue crystal staff heals him, and all he can do is yell that she is a witch, and he sticks his hand back into the fire, then he runs off and calls the guards. That’s the sort of lunk-head he is. You can’t pay any attention to what he says.”
“Others do pay attention, my friend.”
“I know,” Tanis said gloomily. He picked up a handful of small rocks, began tossing them one-by-one into the water.
“We have done our part,” Riverwind continued. “We helped scout out the land to find this valley. We showed your shopkeepers how to transform caves into dwellings. We taught them to track and bring down game, to set out snares and traps. We showed them which berries to eat and which were poisonous. Gold-moon, my wife,”—this was the first time he’d used that word and he spoke it with gentle pride—“heals their sick.”
“They are grateful, though they don’t say it. You and your people might be able to make it safely through the mountains and back to your homeland before the worst of the winter sets in, but you know as well as I do that it’s risky. I wish you would stay with us. I have this feeling in my gut that we should all keep together.
“I know we can’t stay here,” Tanis added with a sigh. “I know it’s dangerous.” He hesitated before he went on, knowing how his proposal would be received. Then, like diving into cold water, he plunged ahead.
“I’m sure if we could find the dwarven kingdom of Thorbardin—”
“Thorbardin! The mountain fastness of the dwarves?” Riverwind scowled. “I won’t consider it.”
“Think about it. Hidden deep below ground, the dwarven kingdom would be a perfect refuge for our people. We could remain there during the winter, safe beneath the mountain. Not even dragon eyes could find us—”
“We would also be safe buried in a tomb!” Riverwind stated caustically. “My people will not go to Thorbardin. We will go nowhere near dwarves. We will scout out our own path. After all, we have no children with us to slow us up.”
His face was shadowed. The children of the Plainsmen had all perished in the dragonarmy’s attack on their villages.
“You have Elistan with you now,” Riverwind went on. “He is a cleric of Paladine. He can heal the sick in Goldmoon’s absence and teach your people of the return of the gods. My people and I want to go home. Can’t you understand that?”
Tanis thought of his home in Solace. He wondered if his house was still standing, if it had survived the dragonarmy’s assault. He liked to think it was. Though he had not been in his house for five years, knowing it was there, waiting to receive him, was a comfort.
“Yes,” he answered. “I can understand.”
“We have not yet made a final decision,” said Riverwind, seeing his friend downcast. “Some of our people believe like you that there is safety in numbers, that we should remain together.”
“Your wife among them,” said Goldmoon, walking up behind them.
Riverwind rose to his feet, turning to meet his new bride as she came to him in the dawn.
Goldmoon had always been beautiful. Her long silver-gold hair—the color that was so rare among her people—had always glistened in the morning halflight. She had always worn the soft and supple leather skins of her people with a grace and elegance that would have been envied by the fine ladies of Palanthas. This morning, she made beauty seem a paltry and inadequate word to describe her. The mists seemed to part for her, the shadows lift.
“You were not worried about me, were you?” Riverwind asked, with a trace of unease.
“No, my husband,” said Goldmoon, and she lingered lovingly over the word. “I knew where to find you.” She glanced upward into the blue heavens. “I knew you would be out beneath the skies. Out here, where you can breathe.”
He took her hands and they greeted each other by touching cheeks. The Plainsmen believed their love for each other should be expressed only in private.
“I claim the privilege of kissing the bride,” said Tanis.
“You claimed that privilege last night,” Riverwind protested, smiling.
“I will likely go on claiming it for the rest of my life,” said Tanis. He kissed Goldmoon on the cheek.
The sun flared out from behind the mountain peak, as though to expressly admire Goldmoon, causing her silver hair to flame in its light.
“With such beauty in the world, how can there be evil?” Tanis asked.
Goldmoon laughed. “Perhaps to make me look better by contrast,” she said, teasing. “You were speaking of serious subjects before I interrupted you,” she added more somberly.
“Riverwind thinks you and your people should head off on your own, travel eastward toward the plains. He says you want to remain with us.”
“That is true,” said Goldmoon complacently. “I would like to remain with you and the others. I believe that I am needed, but my vote is just one among our people. If my husband and the others decide we should leave, then we will leave.”
Tanis glanced from one to the other. He didn’t quite know how to say this, so he decided just to come out with it.
“Excuse me for asking,” he said awkwardly, “but what happened to Chieftain’s Daughter?”
Goldmoon laughed again, laughed long and merrily, and even Riverwind smiled.
Tanis did not see the joke. When he’d first met the two, Goldmoon was Chieftain’s Daughter and Riverwind, a humble shepherd, was
her subject. True, they loved each other dearly, and it had often seemed to Tanis that Goldmoon would have been willing to put aside the responsibility of leadership, but Riverwind stubbornly refused to let her. He had insisted on being subservient, forcing her to make decisions. Placed in that position, she had done so.
“I don’t get it,” Tanis said.
“Chieftain’s Daughter gave her final command last night,” Goldmoon explained.
During the marriage ceremony, Riverwind had knelt before her, since she was his ruler, but Goldmoon had bidden her husband rise, indicating the two were wed as equals.
“I am Goldmoon of the Plains,” she said. “Cleric of Mishakal. Priestess of the Que-shu.”
“Who will be Chieftain of the Que-shu?” Tanis asked. “There are survivors from your tribe among the other Plainsmen. Will they accept Riverwind as their chieftain? He has proven himself to be a strong leader.”
Goldmoon looked at Riverwind. He did not meet her gaze. He deliberately kept his eyes fixed on the bubbling stream. His lips tightened.
“The Que-shu have long memories,” Goldmoon said at last, seeing her husband would not speak. “They know that my father did not accept Riverwind as my husband and ordered him stoned to death. They know that, but for the miracle of the blue crystal staff, Riverwind and I would have both perished.”
“So they won’t accept him as Chieftain, even though they look to him for guidance.”
“The Que-shu do,” said Goldmoon, “but they are not the only people here. There are some from the Que-Kiri, and they were once our bitter enemies. Our tribes met on the field of battle many times.”
Tanis muttered a few words in elven.
“I won’t ask you to translate that, my friend,” said Goldmoon with a sad smile. “I know, and my people know, the truth of the tale about the two wolves that turned on each other and the lion who ate them both. It is not easy for people to overcome hatred that was born in them.”
“You and Riverwind have done so,” said Tanis.
“We still have trouble,” Goldmoon admitted, “but we know where to go when we need help.”
She touched the medallion she wore around her neck, the medallion that was the goddess’s gift and an emblem of her faith.
“Maybe I’m being selfish,” Tanis said quietly. “Maybe I don’t want to say good-bye.”
“We will not speak of goodbye,” said Goldmoon firmly, “not on this day of joy—our first day as a married couple.”
She reached for her husband’s hand. Their fingers entwined, she and Riverwind walked back toward their dwelling, leaving Tanis alone by the stream.
It might be a day of joy for them, but he had the feeling it was going to be a day of aggravation and contention for him.
As if to prove him right, Tasslehoff Burrfoot burst out of the woods, running as fast as his short legs would carry him, an irate miller in hot pursuit.
“You don’t understand!” Tas was yelling over his shoulder, “I was trying to put it back!”
3
Dissension. Letting go.
From bad to worse.
he meeting of the refugees started every bit as badly as Tanis had expected.
They held the meeting in a grove of trees near the stream, for there was no cave large enough to hold eight hundred men, women, and children. The refugees had chosen representatives to speak for them, but they didn’t intend to let those people speak unobserved. Thus almost everyone in the small community attended the meeting, standing on the outskirts where they could see, hear and speak up if they felt like it. Not an ideal situation, Tanis thought, for any delegates who might have been persuaded to change their thinking by reasoned argument would be forced to stand their ground because they were under the watchful eyes of those who had selected them.
The Plainsmen arrived in a body, for they had not been able to agree on a delegate—a bad sign. Riverwind was grimmer and more morose than usual. Goldmoon stood at his side, her face flushed with anger. Members of the Que-shu tribe stood apart from those of the Que-Kiri. None of the Plainsmen mingled with the other former slaves but regarded the main body of refugees with a suspicion that was whole-heartedly returned.
The refugees were also divided. Elistan came with his group of followers. Hederick arrived with his. Tanis and his friends formed yet another group.
Tanis looked around the assembly, where people were eyeing each other askance. Only last night, they were all dancing and singing together. So much for Goldmoon’s day of joy.
Tanis looked to Elistan to start the proceedings. A former member of the Theocracy of Seekers himself, Elistan had been one of the few members of that group to actually use his power to help people. He had been the only one of them to stand up against Dragon Highlord Verminaard, warning the others that they were wrong to believe the Highlord’s promises— promises that turned out to be lies and eventually landed them in the iron mines of Pax Tharkas. Though a prisoner himself, Elistan had continued to defy Verminaard and had nearly paid for his rebellion with his life. Already suffering from a wasting disease, he had been tortured by Verminaard in an effort to force him to worship the Dark Queen.
Elistan had been dying when he had met Goldmoon. She had secretly entered Pax Tharkas in company with Tanis and the other companions in a bold endeavor to free the slaves. Seeing Elistan, weak as he was, continue to work tirelessly to help the people, Goldmoon was drawn to him. She was able to heal him through the power of Mishakal, and Elistan knew that at last his lifelong search had ended. He had found the true gods.
Elistan was able to read and translate the cryptic Disks of Mishakal. Elistan used the disks to teach them of the ancient gods of Krynn who, if they were remembered at all, were remembered only in legend. He told the people of Paladine, God of Light, and leader of the other gods of Light. He told them of Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, and of those gods who dwelt in the shadows. He spoke of Gilean of the Book, the God of the Scales of Balance, who, with the other Gods of Neutrality, kept the scales from tipping one way or the other, as had happened during the Age of Might, bringing about the catastrophe known as the Cataclysm that had forever changed the face of the world.
Although only in his forties, Elistan appeared older. The white robes of a Revered Son of Paladine hung on this thin frame. His recent illness, though cured, had left its mark on him. So, too, had his new-found faith. He was no longer troubled by doubts, no longer searching. His eyes were bright with intelligence and laughter. Children ran straight to his arms. People admired him and loved him, and more than a few had already accepted his teachings and were now followers of the gods.
Hederick the High Theocrat was not among them. In the absence of true gods, Hederick had devised some gods of his own. These Seeker gods had done well by Hederick, providing him with a good living, if they had done little for anyone else. Hederick had abandoned his gods when Verminaard came along, succumbing to the Highlord’s blandishments and lies, ending up in the dungeons of Pax Tharkas.
Hederick had prudently taken no part in the uprising, for he thought it had little chance of success. When, to his amazement, the slaves were victorious, he was quick enough to switch sides and take advantage of the freedom others had won for him. He had always been jealous and mistrustful of Elistan and he was secretly incensed that the man was now able to perform “miracles.” Hederick did not believe in these miracles. He did not believe in these new gods. He was biding his time, waiting for Elistan to be exposed as a charlatan. Meanwhile, because Hederick was loud and ingratiating and said what everyone wanted to hear, he’d manage to win over large numbers to his way of thinking.
Tanis hoped Elistan’s wise counsel would prevail this day, convincing the refugees that they were not safe here. Unfortunately, before Elistan had a chance to speak, Hederick raised his arms.
“My dear friends,” began the High Theocrat in well-oiled tones, “we have come together today to discuss issues important to us all.”
Tanis sighed and looked at Eli
stan, who stood behind the High Theocrat with the rest of the Seekers. Elistan caught Tanis’s glance. He shrugged and smiled ruefully. Hederick was still the leader of the people. He had a right to address them first.
“There are those among us who have been talking of leaving this valley,” Hederick was saying. “This valley—that is safe, teeming with game, sheltered from the winter winds, hidden from our enemies—”
“We are not hidden,” Tanis muttered, recalling River-wind’s words to himself only that morning. Tanis stood with his friends, apart from the main body, leaning his back against a fir tree. “Why doesn’t Elistan speak up, remind him of that? Elistan should say something, do something—instead of just standing there.”
“On the contrary,” said Laurana, who was beside him. “Elistan is doing exactly right. He will allow Hederick to have his say, then Elistan will be able to answer all that Hederick is saying.”
Tanis glanced at her. Laurana was not even listening to Hederick. Her gaze was fixed on Elistan. Her eyes, almond-shaped and bluer than the clear, cobalt sky, glowed with admiration; her voice warmed when she spoke of him. Tanis felt a twinge of jealousy. Some might say that Elistan was old enough to be Laurana’s father, but in truth the beautiful elven maiden was far older than the human male. Laurana appeared to be a maid in her early twenties, as young as her friend, Tika Waylan, when, in fact, Laurana could have been Tika’s great-grandmother.
I have no right to be jealous, Tanis reminded himself. I’m the one who ended our relationship. I’m in love with another woman myself, or at least, I think I might be in love with her. I should be glad Laurana has found someone else.
All very logical arguments, and yet Tanis found himself saying, “You and Elistan have certainly been spending a lot of time together.”
Dragons of the Dwarven Depths Page 4