Chapter 42
"What it means is that Verminaard and his troops are in league with the dwarves," said Sturm.
Tanis shook his head. Turning away, he kicked suddenly and viciously at a table leg. "d.a.m.n it all! I urged the refugees to leave the valley where they were safe and led them right into a trap! How could I have been so stupid?"
"Some of the dwarves may be in league with the Dark Queen," said Raistlin slowly, thinking out loud, "but I do not believe Thorbardin has fallen. We would not have been brought before the Council if that were the case. I doubt if Hornfel or the other Thanes have any knowledge of this, and if you want further proof, Tanis, this draconian wears a disguise. If the draconians were in control of Thorbardin, he would not try to conceal his ident.i.ty. My guess is that Verminaard is allied with the dark dwarves. That means Realgar and possibly that other Thane, Rance."
"That would make sense, Tanis," said Sturm. "Hornfel and the others probably know nothing about this."
"Which is why the Theiwar tossed those boulders at us when we came into Thorbardin," said Caramon, "and why they tried to poison us now. They're afraid we'll tell Hornfel!"
"Which is exactly what we must do," said Raistlin. "We must show him this specimen-one reason I urged you to keep the draconian alive."
"I agree we have to get word to Hornfel," Tanis said, "but how?"
"That part will be easy," Sturm said grimly. "Simply walk out that door. The dwarves who catch you will take you immediately to the Thanes."
"Provided they don't kill him first," Raistlin observed.
"I'll go," Sturm offered.
"You don't speak Dwarvish," Tanis said. "Give me enough time to find Hornfel. Wait here a short time, then bring the draconian to the Court of the Thanes."
He looked down at the bozak, who was starting to stir. "I think he's waking up. You should cast another sleep spell on him."
"I must conserve my strength," Raistlin said. "A bash over the head would take less toll on me."
Caramon flexed his big hands. "He won't cause any trouble, Tanis. Don't worry."
Tanis nodded. He climbed over the broken furniture and the bodies of the two dark dwarves who lay on the floor, then paused at the door.
"What about Flint? And Tas?"
"They are beyond our reach," said Raistlin quietly. "There is nothing we can do to help them now."
"Except pray," added Sturm.
"I'll leave that up to you," said Tanis, and he walked out of the inn to get himself arrested.
Chapter 18.
Ta.s.slehoff's Find. Flint's Wall. More Stairs.
Flint and Tas squatted on the floor of the Hall of Enemies, the map spread out before them. The bright sunlight that had been s.h.i.+ning through the arrow slits had dimmed, submerged in an eerie fog that had an odd reddish tinge to it. Flint had the strange feeling that he was wrapped up in a sunset. Wisps of fog seeped into the chamber, making it difficult to see.
"I wish I could read Dwarvish," said Tas, holding up a lantern that Flint had brought with him from the inn and s.h.i.+ning the light down on the map. "What does that squiggle mean?"
Flint slapped the kender's hand away. "Don't touch! And quit jiggling. You're jostling the light about."
Tas put his hand in his pocket so that it would behave itself and tried hard not to jiggle.
"Why do you think Arman called you a servant, Flint? That wasn't very nice, especially after all you've done for him."
Flint grumbled something beneath his breath.
"I didn't catch that," Tas said, but before Flint could repeat himself, the musical note sounded again, ringing loudly throughout the room.
Tas waited until the reverberations had died away, then he tried again, "What do you think, Flint?"
"I think the Hammer is here." Flint put his stubby finger on the map.
"Where?" Tas asked eagerly, bending over.
"You're jiggling again!" Flint glowered at him.
"Sorry. Where?"
"The very top. What they call the Ruby Chamber. At least, that's where I'd put a hammer if I wanted to put it somewhere where no one could find it." Rising stiffly to his feet, Flint ma.s.saged his aching knees. Carefully folding the map, he tucked it into his belt. "We'll go there after we search for Arman."
"Arman?" Tas repeated in astonishment. "Why are we looking for him?"
"Because he's a young fool," said Flint gruffly, "and someone needs to look after him."
"But he's with Kharas, and Kharas is a good and honorable dwarf, at least that's what everyone keeps saying."
"I agree with the kender," said a voice from out of the shadows. "Why are you worried about the Hylar? He is your long-time enemy, after all."
Flint s.n.a.t.c.hed the hammer from its harness, forgetting, in his haste, that he was supposed to pretend it was heavy.
"Step into the light," Flint called, "Where I can see you."
"Certainly. You don't need your weapon," said the dwarf, moving into the lantern light.
He had a long white beard and white hair. His face was wrinkled as a shriveled apple. His eyes were dark and penetrating, clear as the eyes of a newborn babe. His voice was strong, deep, and youthful.
"Remarkable hammer you've got there." The ancient dwarf squinted at it in the bright light. "I seem to remember one just like it."
"You'll feel
"He's another Kharas, like the one in the tomb with Arman!" Ta.s.slehoff said. "How many does this make? Three or four?"
The ancient dwarf took a step nearer.
Flint raised the hammer. "Stop right there."
"I'm not carrying any weapons," Kharas said mildly.
"Ghosts don't need weapons," said Flint.
"He looks awfully substantial for a ghost, Flint," Tas said in a whisper.
"The kender is right. What makes you think I'm not who I say I am?"
"Humpf!" Flint snorted. "What do you take me for? A gully dwarf?"
"No, I take you for a Neidar by the name of Flint Fireforge. I know a lot about you. I had a chat with a friend of yours."
"Arman isn't a friend," Flint said dourly. "No mountain dwarf is my friend, and I'm not his servant either!"
"I never thought that, and I wasn't referring to Arman."
Flint snorted again.
"Never mind that now," said the latest Kharas. A smile caused all the wrinkles in his face to crinkle. "I'm still interested to know why you are going to search for Arman. You came here to find the Hammer of Kharas."
"And I'll leave here with the Hammer of Kharas," stated Flint stoutly, "and with young Arman. Now you tell me what you've done with him." with young Arman. Now you tell me what you've done with him."
"I haven't done anything to him." Kharas shrugged. "I told him where to find the Hammer. It may take him awhile, however. It seems he's lost his map."
"He dropped it," Tas said sadly.
"Yes, that's what I thought might have happened," Kharas said with a slight smile. "What if I told you, Flint Fireforge, that I can take you straight to the Hammer?"
"And throw us into a pit or shove us off the top of some tower? No thanks." Flint shook the hammer at the dwarf. "If you truly mean us no harm, go on about your business and leave us alone, and you leave Arman alone, too. He's a not a bad sort, just misguided."
"He needs to be taught a lesson," said Kharas. "The mountain dwarves all need to be taught a lesson, don't they? Isn't that what you've been thinking?"
"Never you mind what I'm thinking!" Flint said, scowling. "Just take yourself off and do whatever it is you do around here."
"I will, but first I'll make you a wager. I'll bet you your soul that Arman ends up with the Hammer."
"I'll take your bet," said Flint. "It's all nonsense, anyway."
"We'll see," Kharas said, his smile broadening. "Remember, I offered to show you where to find the Hammer, and you turned me down."
The ancient dwarf stepped backward into the red swirling mists and vanished.
Flint s.h.i.+vered all over. "Is he gone?"
Tas walked over to where the dwarf had been standing and flapped his hands about in the mists. "I don't see him. Say, if he does take your soul, Flint, can I watch?"
"You're a fine friend!" Flint lowered the hammer, but he kept it in his hand, just in case.
"I hope he doesn't," said Tas politely, and he truly meant it. Well, he mostly truly meant it. "But if he does-"
"Oh, just shut your mouth. We've wasted enough time palavering with that thing, whatever it was. We have to find Arman."
"No, we have to find the Hammer," Tas argued, "otherwise Kharas will win the bet and take your soul."
Flint shook his head and walked off, heading for the stairs again.
"Are we going back inside the secret pa.s.sage?" Tas asked as they were climbing. "Say, you know, we never went all the way to the top of these stairs. Where do you suppose they lead? What do you think is up there? Was it on the map?"
Flint stopped on one of the stairs, turned around and raised his fist. "If you ask me another question, I'll... I'll gag you with your own hoopak!"
He began to clump up the stairs again, stifling a groan as he did so. The stairs were steep, and as Raistlin had reminded him, Flint wasn't a young dwarf anymore.
Tas hurried along after, wondering how someone could be gagged with a hoopak. He'd have to remember to ask.
They arrived at the place where the secret pa.s.sage had been, only to find that it wasn't there any longer. The stairs behind which it was hidden had been shoved back into place, and try as he might, Flint could not open them again. He wondered how Arman had discovered the pa.s.sage. The ancient dwarf who claimed to know Kharas probably had something to do with it. Glowering and muttering to himself, Flint climbed the stairs to the top.
Once there, he consulted the map. They'd reached the second level of the tomb. Here were galleries, antechambers, a Promenade of n.o.bles, and a banquet hall.
"The Thanes would have attended a grand feast in honor of the fallen king," Flint murmured. "At least, that was what Duncan intended, but his burial feast was never held. The Thanes were fighting for the crown. Kharas was the king's sole mourner." Flint glanced about the darkness and added grimly, "And whoever lifted up the tomb and set it floating among the clouds."
"If they didn't hold the feast, maybe there's some food left," said Tas. "I'm starving. Which way's the banquet hall? This way?"
Before Flint could answer, the kender was off, racing down the hall.
"Wait! Tas! You doork.n.o.b! You've got the lantern!" Flint shouted into the fog-ridden gloom, but the kender was out of sight.
Heaving a sigh, Flint stamped off in pursuit.
"Drat," said Tas, looking over the banquet table that was empty of everything except dust. "Nothing. I suppose mice ate it, or maybe that Kharas did. Oh well. After three hundred years, the food probably wouldn't have tasted that good anyhow."
Tas wished again he'd brought his pouches. He could generally find something to snack on in there-the odd meat pie, m.u.f.fin, or grapes that weren't bad once you removed the bits of fluff. Thinking of food made him hungrier, however, and so he put the thought out of his mind.
The banquet table held nothing interesting. Tas wandered about, searching for a forgotten crumb or two. He could hear Flint bellowing in the distance.
"I'm in the banquet hall!" Tas called out. "There's no food, so don't hurry!"
That prompted more bellowing, but Tas couldn't understand what Flint was saying. Something about Arman.
"I guess I'm supposed to look for him," Tas said, so he did call out his name a couple of times, though not with much enthusiasm. He peered under the table and poked about in a couple of corners.
He didn't find Arman, but he did find something, and it was a lot more interesting than an arrogant young dwarf who always said the word "kender" as though he'd bitten down on a rotten fig. In a corner of the room was a chair, and beside the chair was a table. On the table was a book, pen, and ink, and a pair of spectacles.
Tas held the lantern close to the book, which had squiggles on the cover. He guessed it was something else written in Dwarvish. Then it occurred to him that maybe the writing was magic and this might be a magic spellbook, like those Raistlin kept with him that Tas was never allowed to even get a little tiny peek at, no matter that he promised he would be extra, extra careful, and not crease the pages, or spill tarbean tea on it. As for the spectacles, they were ordinary looking, or would have been ordinary if the gla.s.s inside them had been clear like other spectacles the kender had seen and not ruby-colored.
The kender was torn. He started to pick up the book, then his hand hovered over the spectacles, then went back to the book. At last it occurred to him that he could do both-he could put on the spectacles and look at the book.
He picked up the spectacles and slid them over his ears, noting, as he did so, that they appeared to have been made just for him. Most spectacles were way too big and slid down his nose. These stayed put. Pleased, he looked out through the gla.s.s and saw that the ruby gla.s.s made the red-tinged fog even redder than it had been before. Other than that, the spectacles didn't really do anything. They didn't make his eyes go all blurry as did other spectacles. Thinking that these spectacles weren't good for much, Tas picked up the book.