Dragonlance Tales, Vol. 3 – Love and War

replied, “I was marooned on the south coast of Kernaf by

men of my own land.”

“What land is that?” asked Sturm.

“Moranoco, or as you call it, the Plains of Dust.”

“You were exiled then?” said Lady Ilys. Without

looking, she handed a napkin to Sturm. The boy blotted

melon juice from his chin.

“Indeed, lady; as you are now, so was I once a hard-

pressed refugee. By my skill in the Art, I won the loyalty

and affection of the people of Kernaf. I know the straits you

are in, which is why I make you welcome.”

“Your servants have not always been so kind,” Soren

said, giving Artavash a caustic glance. The warrior woman

plunged a blunt table knife into her melon and split the fruit

in two.

“Ah, well! It has been explained to me that your ship

refused the SEA RAVEN’S summons and resisted with blood

when boarded. Is it surprising that my good Artavash

resorted to stern measures to bring you here? If murder and

plunder were our aims, you would not be dining with us

now,” Mukhari said.

Carin looked confused. Lady Ilys said, “Why do your

ships stop free traders on the open sea?”

“Tribute is necessary for the maintenance of Kernaf’s

position,” said Artavash. She popped a sliver of melon in

her mouth. Sturm watched her every move with fascination.

There was silence around the table for a moment.

Everyone was eating except Mukhari. Sturm wondered why

he had the choicest fruit on his plate if he weren’t going to

eat any of it.

The alchemist fixed his black eyes on Lady Ilys.

“Where were you bound, Lady?”

“Solace, in Abanasinia,” she replied.

Mukhari wiped his mouth on a linen napkin, though no

food had touched his lips. “Shall I put one of my ships at

your disposal?”

“That would be wonderful!” said Mistress Carin.

“It is gracious of you to offer,” said Lady Ilys.

Radiz interjected, “Only SEA RAVEN is on hand, Lord.”

“When can it be ready for sea?”

“Not for nine days, Lord. The hull was strained when we

rammed the roundship. The seams should be re-caulked,”

Artavash said. Radiz opened his mouth to say something

but was cut off by her harsh glance. “No other vessel is

expected back in less than a fortnight,” she said.

“It seems you must be my guests for nine more days,”

Mukhari said. “So that you will be comfortable, please feel

free to roam my palace at will.” He stood to leave, though

the second course had yet to be served. “And now I retire to

my nightly studies. Good health to you, my friends.”

He waved a hand through the air. A slim glass vial

appeared in his fingers. Mukhari hurled the vial to the floor.

It shattered, and a coil of rose-colored smoke snaked out.

The smoke enveloped Mukhari Ras. The last thing Sturm

saw was the alchemist’s face. In a halo of pink smoke he

looked quite benign.

The cloud dispersed, and Mukhari was gone.

“Oh!” said Carin.

“Tricks,” muttered Radiz.

It was hot. Sturm rolled over and pushed back the slick

satin sheets. Currents of air stirred the filmy curtains, but

the heat in the room was stifling. He got up, pulled on his

Kernaffi-style pants and vest, and checked on his mother.

Lady Ilys was sleeping soundly. Her cheek was cool and her

forehead dry. So why am I sweating so? wondered Sturm.

He tip-toed through the colonnade to the main room.

The cool tiles felt good under his feet. Beyond the columns

was an atrium. Stars glittered overhead. As Sturm stood

searching for familiar constellations, he heard footsteps and

muffled voices. He went to the door and lifted the latch.

Two Kernaffi soldiers flanked a third, taller man.

Chains clinked faintly from the middle man’s wrists and

feet. Sturm cracked the door wider. The men passed a wall

torch. The fettered man was Sergeant Soren – and he was

gagged, too.

Sturm shut the door quickly. His mind raced in tan dem

with his heart. Why was Soren in chains? Where were they

taking him? When the footsteps faded around the corner,

Sturm knew he had to follow.

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