Tasslehoff yawned. “Well,” he said, putting the map back carefully into the case, “it’s a problem that will be solved by wiser heads than mine. I’m along for the fun.” Tucking the case back into a pouch, the kender lay down on the cave floor, drew his legs up beneath his chin, and was soon sleeping the peaceful sleep of small children and animals.
Tanis looked at him with envy. Although aching with weariness, he couldn’t relax enough for sleep. Most of the others had dropped off, all but the warrior watching over his brother. Tanis walked over to Caramon.
“Turn in,” he whispered. “I’ll watch Raistlin.”
“No,” the big warrior said. Reaching out, he gently pulled a cloak up closer around his brother’s shoulders. “He might need me.”
“But you’ve got to get some sleep.”
“I will.” Caramon grinned. “Go get some sleep yourself, nursemaid. Your children are fine. Look-even the dwarf is out cold.”
“I don’t have to look,” Tanis said. “The Theocrat can probably hear him snoring in Solace. Well, my friend, this reunion was not much like we planned five years ago.”
“What is?” Caramon asked softly, glancing down at his brother.
Tanis patted the man’s arm, then lay down and rolled up in his own cloak and, at last, fell asleep.
The night passed-slowly for those on watch, swiftly for those asleep. Caramon relieved Sturm. Tanis relieved Caramon. The storm continued unabated all night, the wind whipping the lake into a white-capped sea. Lightning branched through the darkness like flaming trees. Thunder rumbled continually. The storm finally blew itself out by morning, and the half-elf watched day dawn, gray and chill. The rain had ended, but storm clouds still hung low. No sun appeared in the sky.
Tanis felt a growing sense of urgency. He could see no end to the storm clouds massing to the north. Autumn storms were rare, especially ones with this ferocity. The wind was bitter, too, and it seemed odd that the storm came out of the north, when they generally swept east, across the Plains. Sensitive to the ways of nature, the strange weather upset Tanis nearly as much as Raistlin’s fallen stars. He felt a need to get going, even though it was early morning yet. He went inside to wake the others.
The cave was chill and gloomy in the gray dawn, despite the crackling fire. Goldmoon and Tasslehoff were fixing breakfast. Riverwind stood in the back of the cave, shaking out Goldmoon’s fur cloak. Tanis glanced at him. The Plainsman had been about to say something to Goldmoon as Tanis entered, but fell silent, contenting himself with staring at her meaning-fully as he continued his work. Goldmoon kept her eyes lowered, her face pale and troubled. The barbarian regrets having let himself go last night, Tanis realized.
“There is not much food, I’m afraid,” Goldmoon said, tossing cereal into a pot of boiling water.
“Tika’s larder wasn’t well stocked,” Tasslehoff added in apology. “We’ve got a loaf of bread, some dried beef, half a moldy cheese, and the oatmeal. Tika must eat her meals out.”
“Riverwind and I didn’t bring any provisions,” Goldmoon said. “We really didn’t expect to make this trip.”
Tanis was about to ask her more about her song and the staff, but the others started waking up as they smelled food. Caramon yawned, stretched, and stood up. Walking over to peer into the cook-pot, he groaned. “Oatmeal? Is that all?”
“There’ll be less for dinner.” Tasslehoff grinned. “Tighten your belt. You’re gaining weight anyhow.”
The big man sighed dismally.
The sparse breakfast was cheerless in the cold dawn. Sturm, refusing all offers of food, went outside to keep watch. Tanis could see the knight, sitting on a rock, staring gloomily at the dark clouds that trailed wispy fingers along the still water of the lake. Caramon ate his share of the food quickly, gulped down his brother’s portion, and then appropriated Sturm’s when the knight walked out. Then the big man sat, watching wistfully while the rest finished.
“You gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing to Flint’s share of bread. The dwarf scowled. Tasslehoff, seeing the warrior’s eyes roam over to his plate, crammed his bread into his mouth, nearly choking himself in the process. At least it kept him quiet, Tanis thought, glad for the respite from the kender’s shrill voice. Tas had been teasing Flint unmercifully all morning, calling him “Seamaster” and “Shipmate,” asking him the price of fish, and how much he would charge to ferry them back across the lake. Flint finally threw a rock at him and Tanis sent Tas down to the lake to scrub out the pans.