Dragonlance 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning (4 page)

T
he gale blew itself out toward morning. The sound of water dripping monotonously from the eaves thudded in Tanis’s aching head, almost making him wish for a return of the shrieking wind. The sky was gray and lowering. Its leaden weight pressed down upon the half-elf.

“The seas will be running high,” Caramon said sagely. Having listened eagerly to the sea stories told them by William, the innkeeper of the Pig and Whistle in Port Balifor, Caramon considered himself somewhat of an expert on nautical matters. None of the others disputed him, knowing nothing about the sea themselves. Only Raistlin regarded Caramon with a sneering smile when his brother, who had been on small boats only a few times in his life, began talking like an old seadog.

“Maybe we shouldn’t even risk going out—” Tika began.

“We’re going. Today,” Tanis said grimly. “If we have to swim, we’re leaving Flotsam.”

The others glanced at each other, then looked back at Tanis. Standing, staring out the window, he did not see their raised eyebrows or their shrugging shoulders, though he was aware of them all the same.

The companions were gathered in the brothers’ room. It would not be dawn for another hour, but Tanis had awakened them as soon as he heard the wind cease its savage howl.

He drew a deep breath, then turned to face them. “I’m sorry. I know I sound arbitrary,” he said, “but there are dangers I know about that I can’t explain right now. There isn’t time. All I can tell you is this—we have never in our lives been in more dire peril than we are at this moment in this town. We must leave and we must leave now!” He heard an hysterical note creep into his voice and broke off.

There was silence, then, “Sure, Tanis,” Caramon said uneasily.

“We’re all packed,” Goldmoon added. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Let’s go then,” Tanis said.

“I’ve got to get my things,” Tika faltered.

“Go on. Be quick,” Tanis told her.

“I—I’ll help her,” Caramon offered in a low voice.

The big man, dressed, like Tanis, in the stolen armor of a dragonarmy officer, and Tika left quickly, probably hoping to snatch time enough for a last few minutes alone, Tanis thought, fuming in impatience. Goldmoon and Riverwind left to gather their things as well. Raistlin remained in the room, not moving. He had all he needed to carry with him—his pouches with his precious spell components, the Staff of Magius, and the precious marble of the dragon orb, tucked away inside its nondescript bag.

Tanis could feel Raistlin’s strange eyes boring into him. It was as if Raistlin could penetrate the darkness of the half-elf’s soul with the glittering light from those golden eyes. But still the mage said nothing. Why? Tanis thought angrily. He would almost have welcomed Raistlin’s questioning, his accusations. He would almost welcome a chance to unburden himself and tell the truth, even though he knew what consequences would result.

But Raistlin was silent, except for his incessant cough.

Within a few minutes, the others came back inside the room.

“We’re ready, Tanis,” Goldmoon said in a subdued voice.

For a moment, Tanis couldn’t speak. I’ll tell them, he resolved. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. He saw their faces, he saw trust; a belief in him. They were following him without question. He couldn’t let them down. He couldn’t shake this faith. It was all they had to cling to. Sighing, he swallowed the words he had been about to speak.

“Right,” he said gruffly and started toward the door.

Maquesta Kar-Thon was awakened from a sound sleep by a banging on her cabin door. Accustomed to having her sleep interrupted at all hours, she was almost immediately awake and reaching for her boots.

“What is it?” she called out.

Before the answer came, she was already getting the feel of the ship, assessing the situation. A glance through the porthole showed her the gale winds had died, but she could tell from the motion of the ship itself that the seas were running high.

“The passengers are here,” called out a voice she recognized as that of her first mate.

Landlubbers, she thought bitterly, sighing and dropping the boot she had been dragging on.

“Send ’em back,” she ordered, lying down again. “We’re not sailing today.”

There seemed to be some sort of altercation going on outside, for she heard her first mate’s voice raised in anger and another voice shouting back. Wearily Maquesta struggled to her feet. Her first mate, Bas Ohn-Koraf, was a minotaur, a race not noted for its easy-going temper. He was exceptionally strong and was known to kill without provocation—one reason he had taken to the sea. On a ship like the
Perechon
, no one asked questions about the past.

Throwing open the door to her cabin, Maq hurried up onto deck.

“What’s going on?” she demanded in her sternest voice as her eyes went from the bestial head of her first mate to the bearded face of what appeared to be a dragonarmy officer. But she recognized the slightly slanted brown eyes of the bearded
man and fixed him with a cold stare. “I said we’re not sailing today, Half-Elf, and I meant—”

“Maquesta,” Tanis said quickly, “I’ve got to talk to you!” He started to push his way past the minotaur to reach her, but Koraf grabbed hold of him and yanked him backward. Behind Tanis, a larger dragonarmy officer growled and took a step forward. The minotaur’s eyes glistened eagerly as he deftly slipped a dirk from the wide, bright-colored sash around his waist.

The crew above decks gathered around immediately, hoping for a fight.

“Caramon—” Tanis warned, holding out his hand restrainingly.

“Kof—!” Maquesta snapped with an angry look meant to remind her first mate that these were paying customers and were not to be handled roughly, at least while in sight of land.

The minotaur scowled, but the dirk disappeared as quickly as it had flashed into the open. Koraf turned and walked away disdainfully, the crew muttering in disappointment, but still cheerful. It promised already to be an interesting voyage.

Maquesta helped Tanis to his feet, studying the half-elf with the same intense scrutiny she fixed on a man wanting to sign on as a crew member. She saw at once that the half-elf had changed drastically since she had seen him only four days before, when he and the big man behind him closed the bargain for passage aboard the
Perechon
.

He looks like he’s been through the Abyss and back. Probably in some sort of trouble, she decided ruefully. Well, I’m not getting him out of it! Not at the risk of my ship. Still, he and his friends had paid for half their passage. And she needed the money. It was hard these days for a pirate to compete with the Highlords.…

“Come to my cabin,” Maq said ungraciously, leading the way below.

“Stay with the others, Caramon,” the half-elf told his companion. The big man nodded. Glancing darkly at the minotaur, Caramon went back over to stand with the rest of the companions, who stood silently, huddled around their meager belongings.

Tanis followed Maq down to her cabin and squeezed inside. Even two people in the small cabin were a tight fit. The
Perechon
was a trim vessel, designed for swift sailing and quick maneuvers. Ideal for Maquesta’s trade, for which it was necessary to slip in and out of harbors quickly, unloading or picking up cargo that wasn’t necessarily hers either to pick up or deliver. On occasion, she might enhance her income by catching a fat merchant ship sailing out of Palanthas or Tarsis and slip up on it before it knew what was happening. Then board it quickly, loot it, and make good her escape.

She was adept at outrunning the massive ships of the Dragon Highlords, too, although she made it a point to leave them strictly alone. Too often now, though, the Highlords’ ships were seen “escorting” the merchant vessels. Maquesta had lost money on her last two voyages, one reason why she had deigned to carry passengers—something she would never do under normal circumstances.

Removing his helm, the half-elf sat down at the table, or rather fell down, since he was unaccustomed to the motion of the rocking ship. Maquesta remained standing, balancing easily.

“Well, what is it you want?” she demanded, yawning. “I told you we can’t sail. The seas are—”

“We have to,” Tanis said abruptly.

“Look,” Maquesta said patiently (reminding herself he was a paying customer), “if you’re in some kind of trouble, it’s not my concern! I’m not risking my ship or my crew—”

“Not me,” Tanis interrupted, looking at Maquesta intently, “you.”

“Me?” Maquesta said, drawing back, amazed.

Tanis folded his hands on the table and gazed down at them. The pitching and tossing of the vessel at anchor, combined with his exhaustion from the past few days, made him nauseous. Seeing the faint green tinge of his skin beneath his beard and the dark shadows under his hollow eyes, Maquesta thought she’d seen corpses that looked better than this half-elf.

“What do you mean?” she asked tightly.

“I—I was captured by a Dragon Highlord … three days ago,” Tanis began, speaking in a low voice, staring at his hands. “No, I guess ‘captured’ is the wrong word. H-He saw me dressed like this and assumed I was one of his men. I had to accompany h-him back to his camp. I’ve been there, in
camp, the last few days, and I—I found out something. I know why the Highlord and the draconians are searching Flotsam. I know what—who—they’re looking for.”

“Yes?” Maquesta prompted, feeling his fear creep over her like a contagious disease. “Not the
Perechon
—”

“Your helmsman.” Tanis finally looked up at her. “Berem.”

“Berem!” Maquesta repeated, stunned. “What for? The man’s a mute! A half-wit! A good helmsman, maybe, but nothing more. What could he have done that the Dragon Highlords are looking for him?”

“I don’t know,” Tanis said wearily, fighting his nausea. “I wasn’t able to find out. I’m not sure they know! But they’re under orders to find him at all costs and bring him alive to”—he closed his eyes to shut out the swaying lamps—“the Dark Queen.…”

The breaking light of dawn threw slanted red beams across the sea’s rough surface. For an instant it shone on Maq’s glistening black skin, a flash like fire came from her golden earrings that dangled nearly to her shoulders. Nervously she ran her fingers through her closely cropped black hair.

Maquesta felt her throat close. “We’ll get rid of him!” she muttered tightly, pushing herself up from the table. “We’ll put him ashore. I can find another helmsman—”

“Listen!” Catching hold of Maquesta’s arm, Tanis gripped her tightly, forcing her to stop. “They may already know he’s here! Even if they don’t and they catch him, it won’t make any difference. Once they find out he was here, on this vessel, and they
will
find out, believe me; there are ways of making even a mute talk—they’ll arrest you and everyone on this ship. Arrest you or get rid of you.”

He dropped his hand from her arm, realizing he hadn’t the strength to hold her. “It’s what they’ve done in the past. I know. The Highlord told me. Whole villages destroyed. People tortured, murdered. Anyone this man comes in contact with is doomed. They fear whatever deadly secret he carries will be passed on, and they can’t allow that.”

Maquesta sat down. “Berem?” she whispered softly, unbelievingly.

“They couldn’t do anything because of the storm,” Tanis said wearily, “and the Highlord was called away to Solamnia, some battle there. But sh—the Highlord will be back today.
And then,” He couldn’t go on. His head sank into his hands as a shudder racked his body.

Maquesta eyed him warily. Could this be true? Or was he making all this up to force her to take him away from some danger? Watching him slump miserably over the table, Maquesta swore softly. The ship’s captain was a shrewd judge of men. She needed to be, in order to control her rough-and-ready crew. And she knew the half-elf wasn’t lying. At least, not much. She suspected there were things he wasn’t telling, but this story about Berem, as strange as it seemed, had the ring of truth.

It all made sense, she thought uneasily, cursing herself. She prided herself on her judgment, her good sense. Yet she had turned a blind eye to Berem’s strangeness. Why? Her lip curled in derision. She liked him—admit it. He was like a child, cheerful, guileless. And so she had overlooked his unwillingness to go ashore, his fear of strangers, his eagerness to work for a pirate when he refused to share in the loot they captured. Maquesta sat a moment, getting the feel of her ship. Glancing outside, she watched the golden sun glint off the white caps, then the sun vanished, swallowed by the lowering gray clouds. It would be dangerous, taking the ship out, but if the wind was right …

“I’d rather be out on the open sea,” she murmured, more to herself than to Tanis, “than trapped like a rat on shore.”

Making up her mind, Maq rose quickly and started for the door. Then she heard Tanis groan. Turning around, she regarded him pityingly.

“Come on, Half-Elf,” Maquesta said, not unkindly. She put her arms around him and helped him stand. “You’ll feel better above deck in the fresh air. Besides, you’ll need to tell your friends that this isn’t going to be what you might call a ‘relaxing ocean voyage.’ Do you know the risk you’re taking?”

Tanis nodded. Leaning heavily on Maquesta, he walked across the heaving deck.

“You’re not telling me everything, that’s for certain,” Maquesta said under her breath as she kicked open the cabin door and helped Tanis struggle up the stairs to the main deck. “I’ll wager Berem’s not the only one the Highlord’s looking for. But I have a feeling this isn’t the first bad weather you and your crew have ridden out. I just hope your luck holds!”

The
Perechon
wallowed in the high seas. Riding under short sail, the ship seemed to make little headway, fighting for every inch it gained. Fortunately, the wind backed. Blowing steadily from the southwest, it was taking them straight into the Blood Sea of Istar. Since they were heading for Kalaman, northwest of Flotsam, around the cape of Nordmaar, this was a little out of their way. But Maquesta didn’t mind. She wanted to avoid land as much as possible.