Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - The War Of Souls 03 - Dragons Of A Vanished Moon

BOOK 1

1

Lost Souls

In the dungeon of the Tower of High Sorcery, that had once been in Palanthas

but now resided in Nightlund, the great archmagus Raistlin Majere had conjured

a magical Pool of Seeing. By gazing into this pool, he was able to follow and

sometimes shape events transpiring in the world. Although Raistlin Majere had

been dead many long years, his magical Pool of Seeing remained in use. The

wizard Dalamar, who had inherited the Tower from his Shalafi, maintained the

magic of the pool. A veritable prisoner in the Tower that was an island in the

river of the dead, Dalamar had often made use of the pool to visit in his mind

those places he could not travel in his body.

Palin Majere stood now at the pool's edge, staring into the unwavering blue

flame that burned in the center of the still water was the chamber's only

light. Dalamar was close beside him, gaze fixed on the same unwavering fire.

Although the mages could have seen events transpiring anywhere in the world,

they

watched intently an event that was happening quite close to them, an event

taking place at the top of the very Tower in which they stood.

Goldmoon of the Citadel of Light, and Mina, Lord of the Night, leader of the

Dark Knights of Neraka, were to meet in the laboratory that had once belonged

to Raistlin Majere. Goldmoon had already arrived at the strange meeting place.

The laboratory was cold and dark and shadowed. Dalamar had left her a lantern,

but its light was feeble and served only to emphasize the darkness that could

never truly be illuminated, not if every lantern and every candle on Krynn

should burst into flame. The darkness that was the soul of this dread Tower

had its heart here in this chamber, which in the past had been a scene of

death and pain and suffering.

In this chamber, Raistlin Majere had sought to emulate the gods and create

life, only to fail utterly, bringing into the world misbegotten, shambling,

pathetic beings known as the Live Ones, who had lived out their wretched

existence in the room where the two wizards now stood. In the chamber, the

Blue Dragonlady Kitiara had died, her death as brutal and bloody as her life.

Here stood the Portal to the Abyss, a link between the realm of the mortal and

realm of the dead, a link that had long ago been severed and was nothing now

but a home to mice and spiders.

Goldmoon knew the dark history of this room. She must be considering that now,

Palin thought, watching her image that shimmered on the surface of the pool.

She stood in the laboratory, her arms clasped about her. She shivered not with

the cold, but with fear. Palin was concerned. He could not remember—in all the

years that he had known her—seeing Goldmoon afraid.

Perhaps it was the strange body that Goldmoon's spirit inhabited. She was over

ninety. Her true body was that of an elderly woman-still vigorous, still

strong for her years, but with skin marked and marred with time, a back that

was starting to stoop, fingers that were gnarled, but whose touch was gentle.

She had been comfortable with that body. She had

never feared or regretted the passage of the years that had brought the joy of

love and birth, the sorrow of love and death. That body had been taken from

her the night of the great storm, and she had been given another body, a

stranger's body, one that was young and beautiful, healthful and vibrant. Only

the eyes were the eyes of the woman Palin had known throughout his life.

She is right, he thought, this body doesn't belong to her. It's borrowed

finery. Clothing that doesn't fit.

"I should be with her," Palin muttered. He stirred, shifted, began to pace

restlessly along the water's edge. The chamber was made of stone and was dark

and chill, the only light the unwavering flame that burned in the heart of the

dark pool, and it illuminated little and gave no warmth. "Goldmoon looks

strong, but she's not. Her body may be that of someone in her twenties, but

her heart is the heart of a woman whose life has spanned nine decades. The

shock of seeing Mina again—especially as she is—may kill her."

"In that case, the shock of seeing you beheaded by the Dark Knights would

probably do very little for her either," returned Dalamar caustically. "Which

is what she would see if you were to march up there now. The Tower is

surrounded by soldiers. There must be at least thirty of them out there."

"I don't think they'd kill me," said Palin.

"No? And what would they do? Tell you to go stand in a corner with your face

to the wall and think what a bad boy you've been?" Dalamar scoffed.

"Speaking of corners," he added suddenly, his voice altering, "did you see

that?"

"What?" Palin jerked his head, looked around in alarm.

"Not here! There!" Dalamar pointed into the pool. "A flash in the eyes of

dragons that guard the Portal."

u "All I see is dust," Palin said after a moment's intense gaze, and

cobwebs and mouse dung. You're imagining things."

"Am I?" Dalamar asked. His sardonic tone had softened, was unusually somber.

"I wonder."

"You wonder what?"

"A great many things," said Dalamar.

Palin eyed the dark elf closely but could not read on that gaunt and drawn

face a single thought stirring behind the dark eyes. In his black robes,

Dalamar was indistinguishable from the darkness of the chamber. Only his hands

with their delicate fingers could be seen, and they appeared to be hands that

lacked a body. The long-lived elf was presumably in the prime of life, but his

wasted form, consumed by the fever of frustrated ambition, might have belonged

to an elder of his race.

I shouldn't be casting aspersions. What does he see when he looks at me? Palin

asked himself. A shabby, middle-aged man. My face wan and wasted. My hair

graying, thin. My eyes the embittered eyes of one who has not found what he

was promised.

I stand on the edge of wondrous magic created by my uncle, and what have I

done, except fail everyone who ever expected anything of me. Including myself.

Goldmoon is just the most recent. I should be with her. A hero like my father

would be with her, no matter that it meant sacrificing his freedom, perhaps

his life. Yet here I am, skulking in the basement of this Tower.

"Stop fidgeting, will you?" Dalamar said irritably. "You'll slip and fall in

the pool. Look there." He pointed excitedly to the water. "Mina has arrived."

Dalamar rubbed his thin hands. "Now we will see and hear something to our

advantage."

Palin halted on the edge of the pool, wavering in his decision. If he left

immediately, walked the corridors of magic, he might yet reach Goldmoon in

time to protect her. Yet, he could not pull himself away. He stared down at

the pool in dread fascination.

"I can see nothing in this wizard's murk," Mina was saying loudly. "We need

more light."

The light in the chamber grew brighter, so bright that it dazzled eyes

accustomed to the darkness.

"I didn't know Mina was a mage," said Palin, shading his eyes with his hand.

"She's not," said Dalamar shortly. He cast Palin a strange glance. "Doesn't

that tell you something?"

Palin ignored the question, concentrated on the conversation.

"You ... you are so beautiful, Mother," Mina said softly, awed. "You look just

as I imagined."

Sinking to her knees, the girl extended her hands. "Come, kiss me, Mother,"

she cried, tears falling. "Kiss me as you used to. I am Mina. Your Mina."

"And so she was, for many years," murmured Palin, watching in sorrowful

concern as Goldmoon advanced unsteadily to clasp her adopted child in her

arms. "Goldmoon found Mina washed up on the shore, presumably the survivor of

some terrible ship wreck, though no wreckage or bodies or any other survivors

were ever discovered. They brought her to the Citadel's orphanage.

Intelligent, bold, fearless, Mina charmed all, including Goldmoon, who took

the child to her heart. And then, one day, at the age of fourteen, Mina ran

away. We searched, but we could find no trace of her, nor could anyone say why

she had gone, for she had seemed so happy. Goldmoon's heart broke, then."

"Of course, Goldmoon found her," Dalamar said. "She was meant to find her."

"What do you mean?" Palin glanced at Dalamar, but the elf's expression was

enigmatic.

Dalamar shrugged, said nothing, gestured back to the dark pool.

"Mina!" Goldmoon whispered, rocking her adopted daughter. "Mina! Child . . .

why did you leave us when we all loved you so much?"

"I left for love of you, Mother. I left to seek what you wanted so

desperately. And I found it, Mother! I found it for you.

"Dearest Mother." Mina took hold of Goldmoon's hands and pressed them to her

lips. "All that I am and all that I have done, I have done for you."

"I ... don't understand, child," Goldmoon faltered. "You wear the symbol of

evil, of darkness. . . . Where did you go?

Where have you been? What has happened to you?"

Mina laughed. "Where I went and where I have been is not important. What

happened to me along the way—that is what you must hear.

"Do you remember, Mother, the stories you used to tell me? The story about how

you traveled into darkness to search for the gods? And how you found the gods

and brought faith in the gods back to the people of the world?"

"Yes," said Goldmoon. She had gone so very pale that Palin determined to be

with her, cost him what it might.

He began to chant the words of magic. The words that came out of his mouth,

however, were not the words that had formed in his brain. Those words were

rounded, smooth, flowed easily. The words he spoke were thick and

square-sided, tumbled out like blocks dropped on the floor.

He halted, angry at himself, forced himself to calm down and try again. He

knew the spell, could have said it backward. He might well have said it

backward, for all the sense it made.

"You're doing this to me!" Palin said accusingly.

Dalamar was amused. "Me?" He waved his hand. "Go to Goldmoon, if you want. Die

with her, if you want. I'm not stopping you."

"Then who is? This One God?"

Dalamar regarded him in silence a moment, then turned back to gaze down into

the pool. He folded his hands in the sleeves of his robes. "There was no past,

Majere. You went back in time. There was no past."

"You told me the gods were gone, Mother," Mina said. "You told me that because

the gods were gone we had to rely on ourselves to find our way in the world.

But I didn't believe that story, Mother.

"Oh"—Mina placed her hand over Goldmoon's mouth, silencing her—"I don't think

you lied to me. You were mistaken, that was all. You see, I knew better. I

knew there was a god for I heard the voice of the god when I was little and

our

boat sank and I was cast alone into the sea. You found me on the shore, do you

remember, Mother? But you never knew how I came to be there, because I

promised I would never tell. The others drowned, but I was saved. The god held

me and supported me and sang to me when I was afraid of the loneliness

and dark.

"You said there were no gods, Mother, but I knew you were wrong. So I did what

you did. I went to find god and bring god back to you. And I've done that,

Mother. The miracle of the storm. That is the One God. The miracle of your

youth and beauty. That is the One God, Mother."

"Now do you understand, Majere?" Dalamar said softly.

"I think I am beginning to," said Palin. His broken hands clasped tightly

together. The room was cold, his fingers ached with the chill. "I would add,

'the gods help us,' but that might be out of place."

"Hush!" Dalamar snapped. "I can't hear. What did she say?"

"You asked for this," Goldmoon demanded, indicating her altered body with a

gesture. "This is not me. It is your vision of me...."

"Aren't you pleased?" Mina continued, not hearing her or not wanting to hear.

"I have so much to tell you that will please you. I've brought the miracle of

healing back into the world with the power of the One God. With the blessing

of the One, I felled the shield the elves had raised over Silvanesti and I

killed the treacherous dragon Cyan Bloodbane. A truly monstrous green dragon,

Beryl, is dead by the power of the One God. The elven nations that were

corrupt and faithless have both been destroyed, their people dead."

"The elven nations destroyed!" Dalamar gasped, his eyes burning. "She lies!

She cannot mean that!"

"Strange to say this, but I do not think Mina knows how to lie/' Palin said.

"But in death, they will find redemption," Mina preached. "Death will lead

them to the One God."

"I see blood on these hands," Goldmoon said, her voice

tremulous. "The blood of thousands! This god you have found is terrible god. A

god of darkness and evil!"

"The One God told me you would feel this way, Mother," Mina responded. "When

the other gods departed and you thought you were left alone, you were angry

and afraid. You felt betrayed, and that was only natural. For you had been

betrayed. The gods in which you had so misguidedly placed your faith fled in

fear... ."

"No!" Goldmoon cried out. She rose unsteadily to her feet and fell away from

Mina, holding out her hand in warding. "No, Child, I don't believe it. I won't

listen to you."

Mina seized Goldmoon's hand.

"You will listen, Mother. You must, so that you will understand. The gods fled

in fear of Chaos, Mother. All except one. One god remained loyal to the people

she had helped to create. One only had the courage to face the terror of the

Father of All and of Nothing. The battle left her weak. Too weak to make

manifest her presence in the world. Too weak to fight the strange dragons that

came to take her place. But although she could not be with her people, she

gave gifts to her people to help them fight the dragons. The magic that they

called the wild magic, the power of healing that you know as the power of the

heart. . . those were her gifts. Her gifts to you."

"If those were her gifts, then why did the dead need to steal them for her . .

." said Dalamar softly. "Look! Look there!" He pointed to the still water.

"I see." Palin breathed.

The heads of the five dragons that guarded what had once been the Portal to

the Abyss began to glow with an eerie radiance, one red, one blue, one green,

one white, one black.

"What fools we have been," Palin murmured.

"Kneel down," Mina commanded Goldmoon, "and offer your prayers of faith and

thanksgiving to the One True God. The One God who remained faithful to her

creation—"

"No, I don't believe what you are telling me!" Goldmoon said, standing fast.

"You have been deceived, Child. I know

this One God. I know her of old. I know her tricks and her lies and deceits."

Goldmoon looked at the five-headed dragon.

"I do not believe your lies, Takhisis!" Goldmoon said defiantly. "I will never

believe that the blessed Paladine and Mishakal left us to your mercy!"

"They didn't leave, did they?" Palin said.

"No," Dalamar said. "They did not."

"You are what you have always been," Goldmoon cried. "A god of Evil who does

not want worshipers, you want slaves! I will never bow down to you! I will

never serve you!"

White fire flared from the eyes of the five dragons. Palin watched in horror

to see Goldmoon begin to wither in the terrible

heat.

"Too late," said Dalamar with terrible calm. "Too late. For her. And for us.

They'll be coming for us soon. You know that."

"This chamber is hidden—" Palin began.

"From Takhisis?" Dalamar gave a mirthless laugh. "She knew of this chamber's

existence long before your uncle showed it to me. How could anything be hidden

from the 'One God'? The One God who stole away Krynn!"

"As I said, what fools we have been," said Palin.

"You yourself discovered the truth, Majere. You used the device to journey

back to Krynn's past, yet you could go back only to the moment Chaos was

defeated. Prior to that, there was no past. Why? Because in that moment,

Takhisis stole the past, the present, and the future. She stole the world. The

clues were there, if we'd had sense enough to read them."

"So the future Tasslehoff saw—"

"—will never come to pass. He leaped forward to the future that was supposed

to have happened. He landed in the future that is now happening. Consider the

facts: a strange-looking sun m the sky; one moon where there were once three;

the patterns of the stars are vastly different; a red star burns in the

heavens where one had never before been seen; strange dragons appear from out

of nowhere. Takhisis brought the world here, to this part

of the universe, wherever that may be. Thus the strange sun, the single moon,

the alien dragons, and the One God, all-powerful, with no one to stop her."

"Except Tasslehoff," said Palin, thinking of the kender secreted in an

upstairs chamber.

"Bah!" Dalamar snorted. "They've probably found him by now. Him and the gnome.

When they do, Takhisis will do with him what we planned to do—she will send

him back to die."

Palin glanced toward the door. From somewhere above came shouted orders and

the sound of feet running to obey. "The fact Tasslehoff is here at all proves

to me that the Dark Queen is not infallible. She could not have foreseen his

coming."

"Cling to that if it makes you happy," said Dalamar. "I see no hope in any of

this. Witness the evidence of the Dark Queen's power."

They continued to watch the reflections of time shimmering in the dark pool.

In the laboratory, an elderly woman lay on the floor, her white hair loose and

unbound around her shoulders. Youth, beauty, strength, life had all been

snatched away by the vengeful goddess, angry that her generous gifts had been

spurned.

Mina knelt beside the dying woman. Taking hold of Goldmoon's hands, Mina

pressed them again to her lips. "Please, Mother. I can restore your youth. I

can bring back your beauty. You can begin life all over again. You will walk

with me, and together we will rule the world in the name of the One God. All

you have to do is to come to the One God in humility and ask this favor of

her, and it will be done."

Goldmoon closed her eyes. Her lips did not move.

Mina bent close. "Mother," she begged. "Mother, do this for me if not for

yourself. Do this for love of me!"

"I pray," said Goldmoon in a voice so soft that Palin held his breath to hear,

"I pray to Paladine and Mishakal that they forgive me for my lack of faith. I

should have known the truth," she said softly, her voice weakening as she

spoke the words with her dying breath, "I pray that Paladine will hear my

prayer and he will come ... for love of Mina .. . For love of all.. ."

Goldmoon sank, lifeless, to the floor.

"Mother," said Mina, bewildered as a lost child, "I did this

for you...."

Palin's eyes burned with tears, but he was not sure for whom it was he

wept—for Goldmoon, who had brought light into the world, or for the orphan

girl, whose loving heart had been snared, tricked, deceived by the darkness.

"May Paladine hear her dying prayer," Palin said quietly.

"May I be given bat wings to flap around this chamber," Dalamar retorted. "Her

soul has gone to join the river of the dead, and I fancy that our souls will

not be far behind."

Footsteps clattered down the stairs, steel swords banged against the sides of

the stone walls. The footsteps halted outside

their door.

"I don't suppose anyone found a key?" asked a deep, rumbling voice.

"I don't like this, Gaidar," said another. "This place stinks of death and

magic. Let's get out of here."

"We can't get in if there's no key, sir," said a third. "We tried. It wasn't

our fault we failed."

A moment's pause, then the first voice spoke, his voice firm. "Mina gave us

our orders. We will break down the door."

Blows began to rain on the wooden door. The Knights started to beat on it with

their fists and the hilts of their swords, but none sounded very enthusiastic.

"How long will the spell of warding hold?" Palin asked.

"Indefinitely, against this lot," said Dalamar disparagingly. "Not long at all

against Her Dark Majesty."

"You are very cool about this," said Palin. "Perhaps you are not overly sorry

to hear that Takhisis has returned."

"Say, rather, that she never left," Dalamar corrected with fine irony.

Palin made an impatient gesture. "You wore the black robes. You worshiped

her—"

"No, I did not," said Dalamar so quietly that Palin could barely hear him over

the banging and the shouting and the thundering

on the door. "I worshiped Nuitari, the son, not the mother. She could never

forgive me for that."

"Yet, if we believe what Mina said, Takhisis gave us both the magic—me the

wild magic and you the magic of the dead. Why would she do that?"

"To make fools of us," said Dalamar. "To laugh at us, as she is undoubtedly

laughing now."

The sounds of fists beating at the door suddenly ceased. Quiet descended on

those outside. For a hope-filled moment, Palin thought that perhaps they had

given up and departed. Then came a shuffling sound, as of feet moving hastily

to clear a path. More footsteps could be heard—lighter than those before.

A single voice called out. The voice was ragged, as if it were choked by

tears.

"I speak to the wizard Dalamar," called Mina. "I know you are within. Remove

the magical spell you have cast on the door that we may meet together and talk

of matters of mutual interest."

Dalamar's lip curled slightly. He made no response, but stood silent,

impassive.

"The One God has given you many gifts, Dalamar, made you powerful, more

powerful than ever," Mina resumed, after a pause to hear an answer that did

not come. "The One God does not ask for thanks, only that you serve her with

all your heart and all your soul. The magic of the dead will be yours. A

million million souls will come to you each day to do your bidding. You will

be free of this Tower, free to roam the world. You may return to your

homeland, to the forests that you love and for which you long. The elven

people are lost, seeking. They will embrace you as their leader, bow down

before you, and worship you in my name."

Dalamar's eyes closed, as if in pain.

He has been offered the dearest wish of his heart, Palin realized. Who could

turn that down?

Still, Dalamar said nothing.

"I speak now to you, Palin Majere," Mina said, and it seemed to Palin that he

could see her amber eyes shining through the

dosed and spell-bound door. "Your uncle Raistlin Majere had the newer and the

courage to challenge the One God to battle. Look at you, his nephew. Hiding

from the One God like a child who fears punishment. What a disappointment you

have been. To your uncle, to your family, to yourself. The One God sees into

your heart. The One God sees the hunger there. Serve the One God, Majere, and

you will be greater than your uncle, more honored, more revered. Do you

accept, Majere?"

"Had you come to me earlier, I might have believed you, Mina," Palin answered.

"You have a way of speaking to the dark part of the soul. But the moment is

passed. My uncle, wherever his spirit roams, is not ashamed of me. My family

loves me, though I have done little to deserve it. I do thank this One God of

yours for opening my eyes, for making me see that if I have done nothing else

of value in this life, I have loved and been loved. And that is all that truly

matters."

"A very pretty sentiment, Majere," Mina responded. "I will write that on your

tomb. What of you, Dark Elf? Have you made your decision? I trust you will not

be as foolish as your friend."

Dalamar spoke finally, but not to Mina. He spoke to the blue flame, burning in

the center of the still pool of dark water.

"I have looked into the night sky and seen the dark moon, and I have thrilled

to know that my eyes were among the few eyes that could see it. I have heard

the voice of the god Nuitari and reveled in his blessed touch as I cast my

spells. Long ago, the magic breathed and danced and sparkled in my blood. Now

it crawls out of my fingers like maggots swarming from a carrion carcass. I

would rather be that corpse than be a slave to one who so fears the living

that she can trust only servants who are dead."

A single hand smote the door. The door and the spell that guarded it

shattered.

Mina entered the chamber. She entered alone. The jet of flame that burned in

the pool shone in her black armor, burned in her heart and in her amber eyes.

Her shorn red hair glistened. She was might and power and majesty, but Palin

saw that the amber

eyes were red and swollen, tears stained her cheeks, grief for Goldmoon. Palin

understood then the depth of the Dark Queen's perfidy, and he had never hated

Takhisis so much as he hated her now. Not for what she had done or was about

to do to him, but for what she had done to Mina and all the innocents like

her.

Mina's Knights, fearful of the powerful wizards, hung back upon the shadowy

stairs. Dalamar's voice raised in a chant, but the words were mumbled and

inarticulate, and his voice faded slowly away. Palin tried desperately to

summon the magic to him. The spell dissolved in his hands, ran through his

fingers like grains of sand from a broken hourglass.

Mina regarded them both with a disdainful smile. "You are nothing without the

magic. Look at you—two broken-down, impotent old men. Fall on your knees

before the One God. Beg her to give you back the magic! She will grant your

pleas."

Neither Palin nor Dalamar moved. Neither spoke.

"So be it," said Mina.

She raised her hand. Flames burned from the tips of her five fingers. Green

fire, blue and red, white, and the red-black of embers lit the Chamber of

Seeing. The flames merged together to form two spears forged of magic. The

first spear she hurled at Dalamar.

The spear struck the elf in the breast, pinned him against the wall of the

Chamber of Seeing. For a moment, he hung impaled upon the burning spear, his

body writhing. Then his head sagged, his body went limp.

Mina paused. Holding the spear, she gazed at Palin.

"Beg," she said to him. "Beg the One God for your life."

Palin's lips tightened. He knew a moment's panicked fear, then pain sheared

through his body. The pain was so horrific, so agonizing that it brought its

own blessing. The pain made his last living thought a longing for death.

2

The Significance of the Gnome

Dalamar had said to Palin, "You do understand the significance

of the gnome?"

Palin had not understood the significance at that moment, nor had Tasslehoff .

The kender understood now. He sat in the small and boring room in the Tower of

High Sorcery, a room that was pretty much devoid of anything interesting:

sad-looking tables and some stern-backed chairs and a few knick-nacks that

were too big to fit in a pouch. He had nothing to do except look out a window

to see nothing more interesting than an immense number of cypress trees — more

trees than were absolutely necessary, or so Tas thought — and the souls of the

dead wandering around among them. It was either that or watch Conundrum sort

through the various pieces of the shattered Device of Time Journeying. For now

Tas understood all too well the significance of the gnome.

Long ago — just how long ago Tasslehoff couldn't remember, since time had

become extremely muddled for him, what with

leaping forward to one future that turned out wasn't the proper future and

ending up in this future, where all anyone wanted to do was send him back to

the past to die—anyhow, long ago, Tasslehoff Burrfoot had, through no fault of

his own (well, maybe a little) ended up quite by accident in the Abyss.

Having assumed that the Abyss would be a hideous place where all manner of

perfectly horrible things went on—demons eternally torturing people, for

example—Tas had been most frightfully disappointed to discover that the Abyss

was, in fact, boring. Boring in the extreme. Nothing of interest happened.

Nothing of disinterest happened. Nothing at all happened to anyone, ever.

There was nothing to see, nothing to handle, nothing to do, nowhere to go. For

a kender, it was pure hell.

Tas's one thought had been to get out. He had with him the Device of Time

Journeying—this same Device of Time Journeying that he had with him now. The

device had been broken—just as it was broken now. He had met a gnome—similar

to the gnome now seated at the table across from him. The gnome had fixed the

device—just as the gnome was busy fixing it now. The one big difference was

that then Tasslehoff had wanted the gnome to fix the device, and now he

didn't.

Because when the Device of Time Journeying was fixed, Palin and Dalamar would

use it to send him—Tasslehoff Burrfoot— back in time to the point where the

Father of All and of Nothing would squash him flat and turn him into the sad

ghost of himself he'd seen wandering about Nightlund.

"What did you do with this device?" Conundrum muttered irritably. "Run it

through a meat grinder?"

Tasslehoff closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the gnome, but he saw

him anyway—his nut-brown face and his wispy hair that floated about his head

as though he were perpetually poking his finger into one of his own

inventions, perhaps the steam-powered preambulating hubble-bubble or the

locomotive, self-winding rutabaga slicer. Worse, Tas could see the light of

cleverness shining in the gnome's beady eyes. He'd seen that light before, and

he was starting to feel dizzy. What did you do with

this device? Run it through a meat grinder? were exactly the same words-or

very close to them—that the previous gnome had said in the previous time.

To alleviate the dizzy feeling, Tasslehoff rested his head with its topknot of

hair (going only a little gray here and there) on his hands on the table.

Instead of going away, the uncomfortable dizzy feeling spiraled down from his

head into his stomach, and spread from his stomach to the rest of his body.

A voice spoke. The same voice that he'd heard in a previous time, in a

previous place, long ago. The voice was painful. The voice shriveled his

insides and caused his brain to swell, so that it pressed on his skull, and

made his head hurt horribly. He had heard the voice only once before, but he

had never, ever wanted to hear it again. He tried to stop his ears with his

hands, but the voice was inside him, so that didn't help.

You are not dead, said the voice, and the words were exactly the same words

the voice had spoken so long ago, nor were you sent here. You are not supposed

to be here at all.

"I know," said Tasslehoff, launching into his explanation. "I came from the

past, and I'm supposed to be in a different future—"

A past that never was. A future that will never be.

"Is that... is that my fault?" Tas asked, faltering.

The voice laughed, and the laughter was horrible, for the sound was like a

steel blade breaking, and the feel was of the slivers of the broken blade

piercing his flesh.

Don't be a fool, kender. You are an insect. Less than an insect. A mote of

dust, a speck of dirt to be flicked away with a brush of my hand. The future

you are in is the future ofKrynn as it was meant to be but for the meddlings

of those who had neither the wit nor the vision to see how the world might be

theirs. All that happened once will happen again, but this time to suit my

purposes. Long ago, one died on a Tower, and his death rallied a Knighthood.

Now, another dies on a Tower and her death plunges a nation into despair. Long

ago, one was raised up by the miracle of the blue crystal staff. Now the one

who wielded that staff be raised up—to receive me.

"You mean Goldmoon!" Tasslehoff cried bleakly. "She used the blue crystal

staff. Is Goldmoon dead?"

Laughter sliced through his flesh.

"Am I dead?" he cried. "I know you said I wasn't, but I saw my own spirit."

You are dead and you are not dead, replied the voice, but that will soon be

remedied.

"Stop jabbering!" Conundrum demanded. "You're annoying me, and I can't work

when I'm annoyed."

Tasslehoff's head came up from the table with a jerk. He stared at the gnome,

who had turned from his work to glare at the kender.

"Can't you see I'm busy here? First you moan, then you groan, then you start

to mumble to yourself. I find it most distracting."

"I'm sorry," said Tasslehoff.

Conundrum rolled his eyes, shook his head in disgust, and went back to his

perusal of the Device of Time Journeying. "I think that goes here, not there,"

the gnome muttered. "Yes. See? And then the chain hooks on here and wraps

around like so. No, that's not quite the way. It must go ... Wait, I see. This

has to fit in there first."

Conundrum picked up one of the jewels from the Device of Time Journeying and

fixed it in place. "Now I need another of these red gizmos." He began sorting

through the jewels. Sorting through them now, as the other gnome, Gnimsh, had

sorted through them in the past, Tasslehoff noted sadly.

The past that never was. The future that was hers.

"Maybe it was all a dream," Tas said to himself. "That stuff about Goldmoon. I

think I'd know if she was dead. I think I'd feel sort of smothery around the

heart if she was dead, and I don't feel that. Although it is sort of hard to

breathe in here."

Tasslehoff stood up. "Don't you think it's stuffy, Conundrum? I think it's

stuffy," he answered, since Conundrum wasn't paying any attention to him.

"These Towers of High Sorcery are always stuffy," Tas added, continuing to

talk. Even if he was only talking to himself, hearing

his own voice was far, far better than hearing that other, terrible voice.

"It's all those bat wings and rat's eyeballs and moldy, old books. You'd think

that with the cracks in these walls, you'd get a nice breeze, but that doesn't

seem to be the case. I wonder if Dalamar would mind very much if I broke one

of his windows?"

Tasslehoff glanced about for something to chuck through the windowpane. A

small bronze statue of an elf maiden, who didn't seem to be doing much with

her time except holding a wreath of flowers in her hands, stood on a small

table. Judging by the dust, she hadn't moved from the spot for half a century

or so and therefore, Tas thought, she might like a change of scenery. He

picked up the statue and was just about to send the elf maiden on her journey

out the window, when he heard voices outside the Tower.

Feeling thankful that the voices were coming from outside the Tower and not

inside him, Tas lowered the elf maiden and peered curiously out the window.

A troop of Dark Knights had arrived on horseback, bringing with them a

horse-drawn wagon with an open bed filled with straw. The Knights did not

dismount but remained on their horses, glancing uneasily at the circle of dark

trees that surrounded them. The horses shifted restlessly. The souls of the

dead crept around the boles of the trees like a pitiful fog. Tas wondered if

the riders could see the souls. He was sorry he could, and he did not look at

the souls too closely, afraid he'd see himself again.

Dead but not dead.

He looked over his shoulder at Conundrum, bent almost double over his work and

still mumbling to himself.

"Whoo-boy, there are a lot of Dark Knights about," Tas said loudly. "I wonder

what these Dark Knights are doing here? Don't you wonder about that,

Conundrum?"

The gnome muttered, but did not look up from his work. The device was

certainly going back together in a hurry.

I'm sure your work could wait. Wouldn't you like to rest a bit and come see

all these Dark Knights?" Tas asked.

"No," said Conundrum, establishing the record for the shortest gnome response

in history.

Tas sighed. The kender and the gnome had arrived at the Tower of High Sorcery

in company with Tas's former companion and longtime friend Goldmoon—a Goldmoon

who was ninety years old if she was a day but had the body and face of a woman

of twenty. Goldmoon told Dalamar that she was meeting someone at the Tower.

Dalamar took Goldmoon away and told Palin to take Tasslehoff and the gnome

away and put them in a room to wait—making this a waiting room. It was then

Dalamar had said, You do understand the significance of the gnome?

Palin had left them here, after wizard-locking the door. Tas knew the door was

wizard-locked, because he'd already used up his very best lockpicks in an

effort to open it without success. The day lockpicks fail is a day wizards are

involved, as his father had been wont to say.

Standing at the window, staring down at the Knights, who appeared to be

waiting for something and not much enjoying the wait, Tasslehoff was struck by

an idea. The idea struck so hard that he reached up with the hand that wasn't

holding onto the bronze statue of the elf maiden to feel if he had a lump on

his head. Not finding one, he glanced surreptitiously (he thought that was the

word) back at the gnome. The device was almost back together. Only a few

pieces remained, and those were fairly small and probably not terribly

important.

Feeling much better now that he had a Plan, Tas went back to observing what

was happening out the window, thinking that now he could properly enjoy it. He

was rewarded by the sight of an immense minotaur emerging from the Tower of

High Sorcery. Tas was about four stories up in the Tower, and he could look

right down on the top of the minotaur's head. If he chucked the statue out the

window now, he could bean the minotaur.

Clunking a minotaur over the head was a delightful thought, and Tas was

tempted. At that moment, however, several Dark Knights trooped out of the

Tower. They bore something between them—a body covered with a black cloth.

Tas stared down, pressing his nose so hard against the glass pane that he

heard cartilage crunch. As the troop carrying the body moved out of the Tower,

the wind sighed among the cypress trees, lifted the black cloth to reveal the

face of the corpse.

Tasslehoff recognized Dalamar.

Tas's hands went numb. The statue fell to the floor with a

crash.

Conundrum's head shot up. "What in the name of dual carburetors did you do

Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - The War Of Souls 03 - Dragons Of A Vanished Moon

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