“The men in my tribe can travel for many days without sleep,” Riverwind said. His eyes were dull and glazed, and he seemed to stare at nothing.
Tanis started to argue, then sighed and kept quiet. He knew that he could never truly understand the agony the Plainsman was suffering. To have friends and family-an entire life-utterly destroyed, must be so devastating that the mind shrank from even imagining it. Tanis left him and walked over to where Flint was sitting carving at a piece of wood.
“You might as well get some sleep,” Tanis told the dwarf. “I’ll watch for a while.”
Flint nodded. “I heard you yelling over there.” He sheathed his dagger and thrust the piece of wood into a pouch. “Defending Que-shu?”
Tanis frowned at the memory. Shivering in the chill night, he wrapped his cloak around him, drew up his hood. “Any idea where we are?” he asked Flint.
“The Plainsman says we’re on a road known as Sageway East,” the dwarf answered. He stretched out on the cold ground, dragging a blanket up around his shoulders. “Some old highway. It’s been around since before the Cataclysm.”
“I don’t suppose we’d be fortunate enough to have this road take us into Xak Tsaroth?”
“Riverwind doesn’t seem to think so,” the dwarf mumbled sleepily. “Says he’s only followed it a short distance. But at least it gets us through the mountains.” He gave a great yawn and turned over, pillowing his head on his cloak.
Tanis breathed deeply. The night seemed peaceful enough. They hadn’t run into any draconians or goblins in their wild flight from Que-shu. As Raistlin said, apparently the draconians had attacked Que-shu in search of the staff, not as part of any preparations for battle. They had struck and then withdrawn. The Forestmaster’s time limit still held good, Tanis supposed-Xak Tsaroth within two days. And one day had already passed.
Shivering, the half-elf walked back over to Riverwind. “Do you have any idea how far we have to go and in what direction?” Tanis crouched down next to the Plainsman.
“Yes,” Riverwind nodded, rubbing his burning eyes. “We must go to the northeast, toward Newsea. That is where the city is rumored to be. I have never been there-” He frowned, then shook his head. “I’ve never been there,” he repeated.
“Can we reach it by tomorrow?” Tanis asked.
“Newsea is said to be two days’ journey from Que-shu.” The barbarian sighed. “If Tak Tsaroth exists, we should be able to reach it in a day, though I have heard that the land from here to Newsea is swampy and difficult to travel.”
He shut his eyes, his hand absently stroking Goldmoon’s hair. Tanis fell silent, hoping the Plainsman would sleep. The half-elf moved quietly to sit beneath the tree, staring into the night. He made a mental note to ask Tasslehoff in the morning if he had a map.
The kender did have a map, but it wasn’t much help, dating, as it did, before the Cataclysm. Newsea wasn’t on the map since it had appeared after the land had been torn apart and the waters of Turbidus Ocean had rushed in to fill it. Still, the map showed Xak Tsaroth only a short distance from the highway marked Sageway East. They should reach it some time that afternoon, if the territory they had to cross wasn’t impassable.
The companions ate a cheerless breakfast, most forcing the food down without appetite. Raistlin brewed his foul-smelling herbal drink over the small fire, his strange eyes lingering on Goldmoon’s staff.
“How precious it has become,” he commented softly, “now that it has been purchased by the blood of innocents.”
“Is it worth it? Is it worth the lives of my people?” Goldmoon asked, staring at the nondescript brown staff dully. She seemed to have aged during the night. Gray circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes.
None of the companions answered, each looking away in awkward silence. Riverwind stood up abruptly and stalked off into the woods by himself. Goldmoon lifted her eyes and stared after him, then her head sank into her hand and she began to weep silently. “He blames himself.” She shook her head. “And I am not helping him. It wasn’t his fault.”