Dragons of Autumn Twilight - By Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman Page 0,146

he hasn't any choice! He's already mourning Gilthanas as if he were dead. I'm going to lose my brother. I can't lose you, too!" She began to sob. Tanis glanced around hastily. There were almost certainly elven guards around. If the elves caught him in this compromising situation. . . .

"Laurana," he said, gripping her shoulders and shaking her. "You're not a child anymore. You've got to grow up and grow up fast. I wouldn't let my friends face danger without me! I know the risks we're taking; I'm not blind! But if we can free the humans from Verminaard and give you and your people time to escape, it's a chance we have to take! There comes a time, Laurana, when you've got to risk your life for something you believe in-something that means more than life itself. Do you understand?"

She looked up at him through a mass of golden hair. Her sobs stopped and she ceased to tremble. She stared at him very intently.

"Do you understand, Laurana?" he repeated.

"Yes, Tanthalas," she answered softly. "I understand."

"Good!" He sighed. "Now go back to bed. Quickly. You've put me in danger. If Gilthanas saw us like this-"

Laurana stood up and walked swiftly from the grove, flitting along the streets and buildings like the wind among the aspens.

Sneaking past the guards to get back inside her father's dwelling was simple-she and Gilthanas had been doing it since childhood. Returning quietly to her room, she stood outside her father's and mother's door for a moment, listening. There was light inside. She could hear parchment rustling, smell an acrid odor. Her father was burning papers. She heard her mother's soft murmur, calling her father to bed. Laurana closed her eyes for a moment in silent agony, then her lips tightened in firm resolve, and she ran down the dark, chill hallway to her bedchamber.

8

Doubts. Ambush!.

A new friend.

The elves woke the companions before dawn. Storm clouds lowered on the northern horizon, reaching like grasping fingers toward Qualinesti. Gilthanas arrived after breakfast, dressed in a tunic of blue cloth and suit of chain mail.

"We have supplies," he said, gesturing toward the warriors who held packs in their hands. "We can also provide weapons or armament, if you have need."

"Tika needs armor and shield and sword," said Caramon.

"We will provide what we can," Gilthanas said, "though I doubt if we have a full set of armor small enough."

"How is Theros Ironfeld this morning?" Goldmoon asked.

"He rests comfortably, cleric of Mishakal." Gilthanas bowed respectfully to Goldmoon. "My people will, of course, take him with them when we leave. You may bid him farewell."

Elves soon returned with armor of every make and description for Tika and a lightweight shortsword, favored by the elven women. Tika's eyes glowed when she saw the helm and shield. Both were of elvish design, tooled and decorated with jewels.

Gilthanas took the helm and shield from the elf. "I have yet to thank you for saving my life in the Inn," he said to Tika. "Accept these. They are my mother's ceremonial armor, dating back to the time of the Kinslayer wars. These would have gone to my sister, but Laurana and I both believe you are the proper owner."

"How beautiful," Tika murmured, blushing. She accepted the helm, then looked at the rest of the armor in confusion. "I don't know what goes where," she confessed.

"I'll help!" Caramon offered eagerly.

"I'll handle this," Goldmoon said firmly. Picking up the armor, she led Tika into a grove of trees.

"What does she know about armor?" Caramon grumbled.

Riverwind looked at the warrior and smiled, the rare, infrequent smile that softened his stem face. "You forget," he said, "she is Chieftain's Daughter. It was her duty, in her father' absence, to lead the tribe to war. She knows a great deal about armor, warrior-and even more about the heart that beats beneath it."

Caramon flushed. Nervously, he picked up a pack of supplies and glanced inside. "What's this junk?" he asked.

"Quith-pa',' said Gilthanas. "Iron rations, in your language. It will last us for many weeks, if need be."

"It looks like dried fruit!" Caramon said in disgust.

"That's what it is," Tanis replied, grinning.

Caramon groaned.

Dawn was just beginning to tinge the wispy storm clouds with a pale, chill light when Gilthanas led the party out of Qualinesti. Tanis kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look back. He wished that his final trip here could have been happier. He had not seen Laurana all morning and, though he felt relieved to have avoided