Dragons of Summer Flame

by Tracy Hickman

  “I was right, then, wasn’t I, Mistress Jenna. They are magic.”

  “You were quite right to summon me. And I’m glad to see, Torg, that you’ve learned your lesson about handling strange objects. That spell you accidentally cast on yourself was not an easy one to reverse.”

  “I won’t be doing that again, I promise you, Mistress Jenna!” The jailer shuddered. “You can have her and good riddance. But you’ve got to sign for her. She’s your responsibility. She robs another fruit stand and—”

  “She won’t be robbing any more fruit stands,” Jenna said crisply, picking up Usha’s pouches. “Come along, child. What is your name, by the way?”

  “Usha. And I want my things,” she said loudly, far more loudly than she’d intended.

  Jenna raised feathery eyebrows.

  Usha flushed, chewed on her lip. “They are mine,” she said sullenly. “I didn’t steal them.”

  “I am aware of that,” Jenna replied. “Such valuable, arcane objects do not permit themselves to be stolen. A curse on anyone foolish enough to try.” She cast a glance at the jailer, who blushed, ducked his head, and wrote furiously in his book. Jenna handed over the pouches.

  Usha took them, followed Jenna to the prison entrance.

  “Thank you for getting me out of there, Mistress. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just let me know. Where’s your shop? Perhaps I’ll stop by it sometime.…”

  Jenna was smiling again.

  “Yes, indeed you will. Right now. Don’t worry, Usha. I plan to take you exactly where you want to go.”

  “Where’s that?” Usha asked in heart-sinking bewilderment.

  “To see Dalamar, of course. The Master of the Tower will be quite interested in meeting you, Usha.”

  “You bet he will!” piped a shrill voice from behind. “Tell Dalamar that Tasslehoff Burrfoot said hullo. And say, Mistress Jenna, don’t you think that Usha looks an awful lot like Raistlin?”

  The sorceress halted. For as long as it might take someone to count to ten, she stood perfectly still and quiet. Then, slowly, she turned around, retraced her steps.

  Usha remained at the entrance, wondering if she should try to run for it. She had the feeling she wouldn’t get very far; her legs were the consistency of jelly. And where would she run to anyway? She leaned wearily against the door.

  Jenna approached the jailer. “Release the kender into my custody as well.”

  Torg scowled. “You sure, Mistress? He’s a dang nuisance—”

  “I’m sure,” Jenna said, an edge in her voice as sharp and cold as steel. “Release him now.”

  Torg drew out his keys, hastened to the cell door, unlocked it.

  Tasslehoff—topknot swinging, pouches jouncing—marched out. He offered a polite hand to Jenna.

  “How do you do? I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Tasslehoff—”

  “I know who you are,” she said. “I believe Dalamar would like to have a word with you.”

  “How wonderful! I haven’t seen Dalamar in years. Is it true that he’s your lover? Well, you needn’t look at me like that. Caramon told me. He said you two—”

  “Start walking,” Jenna said somewhat grimly, steering the kender out of the jail and into the street. “Five paces in front of me, and keep your hands where I can see them. Usha, stay with me.”

  “I get to lead the way?” Tas was excited.

  “If you want to think of it as that,” Jenna returned. “No, not that direction. We’re going outside the city wall, back to my dwelling place.”

  “But I thought we were visiting the Tower of High Sorcery!” Tas wailed. “I wanted to go through the Shoikan Grove! I saw it once, from a distance. It was truly evil and horrible and deadly. It almost killed Caramon, you know. Please, couldn’t we take that route?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jenna snapped. “No person in his right mind—though I realize that this description precludes kender!—would want to walk the Shoikan Grove, especially at night. I do not walk the Shoikan Grove, and I have been a student at the Tower. I will transport us there by a more sedate route, if you don’t mind. That is why we are returning to my shop.”

  Tas was downcast for a moment, then he shrugged. “Oh, well,” he said, cheering up. “At least we get to go to the Tower.

  “This will be fun!” he added, looking back at Usha as he skipped along ahead of her. For an elder, he certainly had a lot of energy. “The Tower of High Sorcery is a fascinating place! I haven’t been there in years, mind you. It’s filled with all sorts of magic—most of it evil and all of it very, very powerful. Dalamar’s a black-robed wizard, but then I guess you know that, if you want to see him. He’s a dark elf and now he’s the most powerful wizard in all of Ansalon—”

  Usha stopped, stared at the kender.

  “A Black Robe? A dark elf? But … that can’t be right! The Protector wouldn’t have sent me to see one of them. Surely … maybe there’s another Dalamar?”

  She heard laughter, like the chiming of silver bells, ring out in the darkness.

  “Keep walking,” said Jenna, stifling her amusement. “And rest assured, child—there is only one Dalamar.”

  6

  The tower of high sorcery.

  A dinner party. Dalamar is unpleasantly surprised.

  n daylight, the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas was a place of terror, avoided by all. By night, the tower was ghastly.

  Once there had been five Towers of High Sorcery, located throughout the continent of Ansalon. Now there were only two. One of them was in Wayreth Forest and was impossible to reach, unless the mages there wanted you to reach them. At that time, the magical forest surrounding the tower would find you and guide you.

  The Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas was also nearly impossible to reach. It was guarded by the Shoikan Grove, a stand of trees inhabited by undead guardians. The fear the grove generated was so potent that most people could not bear to come within sight of it. Only those loyal to Queen Takhisis or those with a special charm, provided by the tower’s master, could enter the accursed grove. And even they did not do so with impunity. Those who had to travel to the tower on business—or, as in Jenna’s case, pleasure—generally took a less dangerous route. They walked the paths of magic.

  Jenna escorted her charges through the old wall, entered what was known as New City. Designed and built by dwarves sometime during the Age of Might, Palanthas was divided into two sections: Old City and New City. Old City, surrounded by a wall, was carefully laid out like a wheel, with eight roads radiating from a central hub, wherein was located the lord’s palace. Palanthas having long ago outgrown the cramped confines of Old City, its people built New City.

  Sprawling outside the wall, New City was the center of the merchandising district. All the major guild halls could be found here, as well as dwellings for the merchants.

  Jenna’s mage-ware shop was located in the best part of New City, rather to the discomfort of other shop owners nearby, who viewed her arcane clientele with deep suspicion. It was known that Jenna was a favorite with Dalamar, Master of the Tower of High Sorcery. And while the Lord of Palanthas was the avowed authority figure in the city, no citizen would have dared do anything to cross the Master of the Tower.

  Thus, the merchants grumbled about Jenna, but they did so quietly.

  Arriving at her mage-ware shop, which was marked by a sign bearing the images of the three moons—the silver, the red, and the black—Jenna first took the precaution of binding the kender’s hands with a silken cord. Only then did she remove the spell guarding the door. She ushered her guests inside.

  “Is that necessary?” Usha asked indignantly, pointing at the kender’s bindings. “He’s not a thief, you know.”

  Jenna gazed at Usha, lifted her eyebrows.

  Usha, wondering what she’d said that was so remarkable, flushed and bit her lip.

  “I don’t mind, truly,” Tas said cheerfully, admiring the silken cord around his wris
ts. “I’m used to it.”

  “It’s more for his protection and our own, than because I’m worried about losing money,” Jenna returned. She spoke a word that sounded to Usha like brittle ice cracking, and a lamp in the room burst into light. Jenna cast a sharp glance at the young woman. “You’re not familiar with kender, are you?”

  Usha thought frantically of what Prot had told her, wished she paid more attention. She decided to bluff, though she had the heart-sinking feeling that she was wasting her time. “What a strange question. Of course I know all there is to know about kender. Doesn’t everyone who lives on Ansalon?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Which is precisely why I asked. This way. Put that down!” Jenna ordered Usha sharply. She had just paused to pick up and study a pretty bottle. “A drop of that on your skin will cause your flesh to fall off in chunks. For mercy’s sake, don’t touch anything else! You’re as bad as a kender. Both of you, come with me.”

  Usha gingerly replaced the bottle on the shelf. She clasped her hands firmly behind her back and hurried along, trying to see everything at once, with the result that she saw very little. Her chief impression of the shop was the smell, which was enticing and, at the same time, repulsive. Jars of spices and pungent herbs stood beside jars of dead and rotting things. Spellbooks, some of them musty and mildewed, were arranged neatly on bookshelves that covered one entire wall. Jewelry sparkled from inside glass cases.

  “In the cellar is my laboratory,” Jenna said, opening a door. “You’re not to touch anything in here either!”

  The door, marked with strange and unreadable symbols, led to a staircase. Jenna personally escorted Tasslehoff, keeping fast hold of his topknot and giving it a painful yank whenever he looked inclined to meddle with anything. She motioned Usha to descend the stairs after them.

  The laboratory was underground, beneath the shop. A light came on at their entrance, but it was a dim and eerie blue and illuminated very little. Usha had to watch her footing going down the stairs.

  “Now, both of you stand right there and don’t move!” Jenna commanded when they reached the floor level. She disappeared into the shadows. At length, they heard her talking to someone in low, indistinguishable tones.

  Usha caught hold of Tasslehoff by the collar of his green shirt just as he was walking off.

  “She said not to move!” Usha scolded.

  “I’m sorry,” Tas whispered back. He looked truly contrite. “I didn’t mean to. It’s my feet. My head told them not to move, but sometimes what my head thinks doesn’t quite make it down that far. The thoughts seem to stop somewhere around the level of my knees. But don’t you think this all terribly exciting? Look over there!” He was breathless with awe. “That’s a human skull! I don’t suppose she’d mind if I—”

  “Yes, I do think she’d mind,” Usha said crossly. “Now stay put.” She kept fast hold of Tas, not because she was really worried about him disobeying Jenna, but because she desperately needed someone to hold on to.

  “I’m glad she brought you along,” Usha added impulsively, “though I’m really not sure why. She doesn’t seem to like having you around.”

  “Oh, she didn’t have much choice,” Tas said, shrugging. “Not after I said what I said about Raistlin.”

  “What did that mean—my looking like Raistlin? I don’t understand. Who is Raistlin?”

  “Who is Raistlin?” Tasslehoff repeated, stunned, forgetting to whisper. “You never heard of Raistlin Majere? I didn’t think there was anyone in Ansalon who’d never heard of Raistlin!”

  Usha, realizing she’d made a mistake, gave a small laugh. “Oh, that Raistlin! Well, certainly I’ve heard of him. I just didn’t know which Raistlin you were talking about. Raistlin’s quite a common name where I come from. Several people named Raistlin live in our village. Elvish, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tas returned thoughtfully. “Raistlin wasn’t an elf, and Caramon certainly isn’t an elf! Caramon’s big enough to make about three elves, if you chopped him up. And then they were twins, and elves don’t tend to have twins a whole lot, as I recall. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve visited Qualinesti. They won’t let me across the border, though I know the new Speaker of the Sun. He’s Tanis’s boy, Gil. You’ve heard of Tanis Half-Elven, haven’t you?”

  “Who hasn’t!” Usha exclaimed, though she might have included herself.

  At least she’d discovered that Raistlin was a “he,” something she hadn’t been certain about. And that he had something to do with someone named Caramon. Congratulating herself on having covered her tracks nicely, she was thinking up her next question when Jenna returned.

  “She knows who Raistlin is. Don’t let her fool you, kender. Come along now, both of you. I’ve spoken to Dalamar and—”

  “Dalamar! Is he here? Dalamar!” Tasslehoff waved and hooted. “Yoo hoo! It’s me, Tas. Remember me? I—”

  “He is not here,” Jenna interrupted in stern, cold tones. “He is in the tower. We have ways of communicating, he and I. Now, see that circle of salt on the floor?”

  Usha didn’t; she couldn’t even see the floor in the dimness, but at that moment, the light from the lamp suddenly intensified. The circle was clearly visible.

  “Step into it carefully,” Jenna instructed. “Make certain you don’t disturb the salt.”

  “I know!” Tas cried, highly excited. “I saw Par-Salian do this with Caramon. That was the time I accidentally turned myself into a mouse. You see, Usha, I was in the Tower of Wayreth and I’d found this ring—white with two red stones—and I put it on and—”

  “For Gilean’s sake, hold your tongue!” Jenna snapped. “Or I’ll turn you into a mouse! And I’ll turn myself into a cat.”

  “Could you really? What kind of a cat?” Tas chattered on. “Maybe you could turn me into a cat instead? I’ve never been a cat …”

  “Take hold of my hands, both of you,” Jenna continued, ignoring the kender. “Close your eyes and you won’t become dizzy. And no matter what happens, don’t let go of my hand.”

  She spoke words that crawled and twisted inside Usha’s head. The floor seemed suddenly to give way. Usha’s stomach gave way with it and she had the fearful impression of wind buffeting her. She needed no urging to hang on to Jenna’s hand. She clung to the sorceress in terror.

  And then Usha was standing on solid ground. The sound and feel of wind ceased. The darkness was gone. She squinted her eyes shut against a bright light.

  “You can look now,” came Jenna’s voice. “We have arrived. You stand safely in the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas.”

  Usha wasn’t certain she wanted to open her eyes. From the kender’s description, this Tower of High Sorcery must be an evil, horrible place. Tasslehoff was already talking eagerly with someone, who was answering the kender in the polite but distracted tones of one whose thoughts are elsewhere.

  “Open your eyes, Usha,” Jenna repeated sternly.

  Blinking, Usha obeyed and was amazed to find herself, not in some sort of horror-filled dungeon, with bodies chained and manacled, hanging from the walls, but in a beautifully decorated room. Colorful tapestries, portraying fantastical animals, covered the stone walls. Woven rugs, with lovely, intricate patterns, were spread over the floors. Usha had never seen so much furniture in one place at one time.

  “Welcome, Usha. Welcome to my tower,” said a voice.

  Usha turned to see what could only have been—from Prot’s description of them—an elf. Tall and slender, with features almost rivaling those of the Irda in beauty, the man was clad in soft black robes, decorated with cabalistic symbols.

  “I am Dalamar,” said the elf.

  His voice was as sweet and clear and seductive as flute music. He advanced toward her, and his movements were graceful, fluid, sinuous. His hair was dark and soft, worn shoulder-length. She was charmed by him, captivated, until she looked into his eyes. They caught her, held her, began to absorb her. Frightened, she tried to shift her gaze. The ey
es refused to release her.

  “Those pouches look heavy. I’ll take them,” Dalamar offered.

  Usha relinquished the packs without a thought.

  “You’re trembling, my dear,” Dalamar observed, adding in soothing tones, “Don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm and might mean you a great deal of good. Please, sit down. May I pour you some wine? Offer you food?”

  He gestured to a table, and with that gesture, he released Usha from the enchantment of his gaze. She glanced over at the table. Tempting smells rose from covered pots. Bowls of chilled fruit glistened in the bright light of a candelabra. Tasslehoff had already seated himself, was lifting lids and sniffing in appreciation.

  “This really looks good. I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry, Usha? I can’t imagine why. I just ate only about an hour ago. But then jail-house soup doesn’t stay with you long. Not to say anything bad about the Palanthas jail soup,” Tas added, looking anxiously at Dalamar. “You won’t tell them I didn’t like it, will you? I mean, it’s truly quite tasty. I wouldn’t want to hurt the cook’s feelings.”

  “I won’t say a word,” Dalamar promised with a grave smile. “I only hope my poor repast is as good. Roast fowl, bread, fruit, sweetmeats, sugared nuts—all I can offer, this late at night, I’m afraid.”

  Usha was suddenly extremely hungry.

  “It looks wonderful!” she said, and before she quite knew what she was doing, she sank down into one of the comfortable chairs and began ladling food onto her plate.

  “I’ve never been so hungry in my life,” she confided to Tas.

  “Me neither,” he mumbled incoherently, having shoved an entire baked apple into his mouth. With a tremendous effort, he chewed, swallowed, returned to his plate for more. “Must be all the excitement.”

  “Must be,” said Jenna, biting into the crispy brown skin of a baked chicken breast.

  The taste was so exquisite, she sighed with pleasure, devoured the chicken breast, and started in on another. It was only then that she realized that she and Tas were alone in the room.