Raistlin, sitting beside his brother, ate very little, taking nibbles of only the tenderest meat, a few grapes, and a bit of bread he soaked in water first. He said nothing but listened intently to everyone, absorbing all that was said into his soul, storing it for future reference and use.
Goldmoon ate her meal delicately, with practised ease. The Que-shu princess was accustomed to eating in public view and could make conversation easily. She chatted with Tanis, encouraging him to describe the elven lands and other places he had visited. Riverwind, next to her, was accutely uncomfortable and self-conscious. Although not a boisterous eater like Caramon, the Plainsman was obviously more accustomed to eating at the campfires of his fellow tribesmen than in royal halls. He handled cutlery with awkward clumsiness and he knew that he appeared crude beside Goldmoon. He said nothing, seeming willing to fade into the background.
Finally everyone began shoving plates away and settling back in the strange wooden chairs, ending their dinner with pieces of sweet shortcake. Tas began to sing his kender trailsong, to the delight of the centaurs. Then suddenly Raistlin spoke. His soft, whispering voice slithered through the laughter and loud talk.
“Forestmaster”-the mage hissed the name-“today we fought loathsome creatures that we have never seen before on Krynn. Can you tell us of these?”
The relaxed and festive mood was smothered as effectively as if covered by a shroud. Everyone exchanged grim looks.
“These creatures walk like men,” Caramon added, “but look like reptiles. They have clawed hands and feet and wings and”-his voice dropped-“they turn to stone when they die.”
The Forestmaster regarded them with sadness as she rose to her feet. She seemed to expect the question.
“I know of these creatures,” she answered. “Some of them entered the Darken Wood with a party of goblins from Haven a week ago. They wore hoods and cloaks, no doubt to disguise their horrible appearance. The centaurs followed them in secret, to make certain they harmed no one before the spectral minions dealt with them. The centaurs reported that the creatures call themselves ‘draconians’ and speak of belonging to the ‘Order of Draco.'”
Raistlin’s brow furrowed. “Draco,” he whispered, puzzled.
“But who are they? What race or species?”
“I do not know. I can tell you only this; they are not of the animal world, and they belong to none of the races of Krynn.”
This took a moment for everyone to assimilate. Caramon blinked. “I don’t-” he began.
“She means, my brother, that they are not of this world,” Raistlin explained impatiently.
“Then where’d they come from?” Caramon asked, startled.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Raistlin said coldly. “Where did they come from-and why.”
“I cannot answer that.” The Forestmaster shook her head.
“But I can tell you that before the spectral minions put an end to these draconians, they spoke of ‘armies to the north.'”
“I saw them.” Tanis rose to his feet. “Campfires-” His voice caught in his throat as he realized what the Forestmaster had been about to say. “Armies! Of these draconians? There must be thousands!” Now everyone was standing and talking at once.
“Impossible!” the knight said, scowling.
“Who’s behind this? The Seekers? By the gods,” Caramon bellowed, “I’ve got a notion to go to Haven and bash-”
“Go to Solamnia, not to Haven,” Sturm advised loudly.
“We should travel to Qualinost,” Tanis argued. “The elves-”
“The elves have their own problems,” the Forestmaster interrupted, her cool voice a calming influence. “As do the Highseekers of Haven. No place is safe. But I will tell you where you must go to find answers to your questions.”
“What do you mean you will tell us where to go?” Raistlin stepped forward slowly, his red robes rippling around him as he walked. “What do you know of us?” The mage paused, his eyes narrowing with a sudden thought.
“Yes, I was expecting you,” the Forestmaster replied in answer to Raistlin’s thoughts. “A great and shining being appeared to me in the wilderness this day. He told me that the one bearing the blue crystal staff would come this night to Darken Wood. The spectral minions would let the staff-bearer and her companions pass-though they have allowed no human or elf or dwarf or kender to enter Darken Wood since the Cataclysm. I was to give the bearer of the staff this message; ‘You must fly straight away across the Eastwall Mountains. In two days the staffbearer must be within Xak Tsaroth. There, if you prove worthy, you shall receive the greatest gift given to the world.'”