Dragons of Autumn Twilight - By Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman Page 0,162

robes and dragged the old man to safety.

They were sitting on the floor resting when suddenly the old man's head snapped up.

"My staff," he said.

"What about it?" Tas yawned, wondering what time it was.

The old man struggled to his feet. "Left it down below," he mumbled, heading for the chain.

"Wait! You can't go back!" Tasslehoff jumped up in alarm.

"Who says?" asked the old man petulantly, his beard bristling.

"I m-mean . . ." Tas stuttered, "it would be too dangerous. But I know you how feel-my hoopak's down there."

"Hmmmm," Fizban said, sitting back down disconsolately.

"Was it magic?" Tas asked after a moment.

"I was never quite certain," Fizban said wistfully.

"Well," said Tas practically, "maybe after we've finished the adventure we can go back and get it. Now let's try to find someplace to rest."

He glanced around the tunnel. It was about seven feet from floor to ceiling. The huge chain ran along the top with numerous smaller chains attached, stretching across the tunnel floor into a vast dark pit beyond. Tas, staring down into it, could vaguely make out the shape of gigantic boulders.

"What time do you suppose it is?" Tas asked.

"Lunchtime," said the old man. "And we might as well rest right here. It's as safe a place as any." He plopped back down. Pulling out a handful of quith-pa, he began to chew on it noisily. The puffball flame wandered over and settled on the brim of the magician's hat.

Tas sat down next to the mage and began to nibble on his own bit of dried fruit. Then he sniffed. There was suddenly a very peculiar smell, like someone burning old socks. Looking up, he sighed and tugged on the magician's robe. "Uh, Fizban," he said. "Your hat's on fire."

"Flint," Tanis said sternly, "for the last time-I feel as badly as you do about losing Tas, but we cannot go back! He's with Fizban and-knowing those two-they'll both manage to get out of whatever predicament they're in."

"If they don't bring the whole fortress down around our ears," Sturm muttered.

The dwarf wiped his hand across his eyes, glared at Tanis, then whirled on his heel and stumped back to a corner where he hurled himself onto the floor, sulking.

Tanis sat back down. He knew how Flint felt. It seemed odd-there'd been so many times he could happily have strangled the kender, but now that he was gone, Tanis missed him-and for exactly the same reasons. There was an innate, unfailing cheerfulness about Tasslehoff that made him an invaluable companion. No danger ever frightened a kender and, therefore, Tas never gave up. He was never at a loss for something to do in an emergency. It might not always be the right thing, but at least he was ready to act. Tanis smiled sadly. I only hope this emergency doesn't prove to be his last, he thought.

The companions rested for an hour, eating quith-pa and drinking fresh water from a deep well they discovered. Raistlin regained consciousness but could eat nothing. He sipped water, then lay limply back. Caramon broke the news to him about Fizban hesitantly, fearing his brother might take the old mage's disappearance badly. But Raistlin simply shrugged, closed his eyes, and sank into a deep sleep.

After Tanis felt his strength return, he rose and walked toward Gilthanas, noting that the elf was intently studying a map. Passing Laurana, who sat alone, he smiled at her. She refused to acknowledge it. Tanis sighed. Already he regretted speaking harshly to her back in the Sla-Mori. He had to admit that she had handled herself remarkably well under terrifying circumstances. She had done what she was told to quickly and without question. Tanis supposed he would have to apologize, but first he needed to talk to Gilthanas.

"What's the plan?" he asked, sitting down on a crate.

"Yes, where are we?" Sturm asked. Soon almost everyone was crowded around the map except Raistlin who appeared to sleep, though Tanis thought he saw a slit of gold shining through the mage's supposedly closed eyelids.

Gilthanas spread his map flat.

"Here is the fortress of Pax Tharkas and the surrounding mine area," he said, then he pointed. "We are in the cellars here on the lowest level. Down this hallway, about fifty feet from here, are the rooms where the women are imprisoned. This is a guard room, across from the women, and this"-he tapped the map gently-"is the lair of one of the red dragons, the one Lord Verminaard called Ember. The dragon is so big,