Dragons of Spring Dawning by Weis, Margaret

And she knew that the generals of the Palanthian army, the temporary commanders of the Solamnic knights, and the other nobles-advisors from the City Senate-were the ones making her feel fragile and defenseless. All of them reminded her with every look that she was-to them-a woman playing at being a soldier. All right, she had done well. She had fought her little war and she had won. Now-back to the kitchen…

“What is the Tower of High Sorcery?” Laurana asked abruptly. She had learned after a week of negotiating with the Lord of Palanthas that-although an intelligent man-his thoughts tended to wander into unexplored regions and he needed constant guidance to keep to the central topic.

“Oh, yes. Well, you can see it from the window here, if you really want to-” The Lord seemed reluctant.

“I would like to see it,” Laurana said coolly.

Shrugging, Lord Amothus veered from his course and led Laurana to a window she had already noticed because it was covered with thick curtains. The curtains over the other windows of the room were open, revealing a breathtaking view of the city in whatever direction one looked.

“Yes, this is the reason I keep these shut,” the Lord said with a sigh in answer to Laurana’s question. “A pity, too. This was once the most magnificent view in the city, according to the old records. But that was before the Tower was cursed-”

The Lord drew the curtains aside with a trembling hand, his face dark with sorrow. Startled at such emotion, Laurana looked out curiously, then drew in a breath. The sun was sinking behind the snow-capped mountains, streaking the sky with red and purple. The vibrant colors shimmered in the pure white buildings of Palanthas as the rare, translucent marble from which they were built caught the dying light. Laurana had never imagined such beauty could exist in the world of humans. It rivaled her beloved homeland of Qualinesti.

Then her eyes were drawn to a darkness within the shimmering pearl radiance. A single tower rose up to the sky. It was tall; even though the palace was perched on a hill, the top of the Tower was only slightly below her line of sight. Made of black marble, it stood out in distinct contrast to the white marble of the city around it. Minarets must have once graced its gleaming surface, she saw, though these were now crumbling and broken. Dark windows, like empty eyesockets, stared sightlessly into the world. A fence surrounded it. The fence, too, was black and, on the gate of the fence, Laurana saw something fluttering. For a moment she thought it was a huge bird, trapped there, for it seemed alive. But just as she was about to call the Lord’s attention to it, he shut the curtains with a shiver.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I can’t stand it. Shocking. And to think we’ve lived with that for centuries…”

“I don’t think it’s so terrible,” Laurana said earnestly, her mind’s eye remembering the view of the Tower and the city around it. “The Tower . . . seems right somehow. Your city is very beautiful, but sometimes it’s such a cold, perfect beauty that I don’t notice it anymore.” Looking out the other windows, Laurana was once more as enchanted with the view as she had been when she first entered Palanthas. “But after seeing that- that flaw in your city, it makes the beauty stand out in my mind … if you understand. . . .”

It was obvious from the bemused expression on the Lord’s face that he did not understand. Laurana sighed, though she caught herself glancing at the drawn curtains with a strange fascination. “How did the Tower come to be cursed?” she asked instead.

“It was during the-oh, I say, here’s someone who can tell the story far better than I,” Lord Amothus said, looking up in relief as the door opened. “It isn’t a story I enjoy relating, to be perfectly honest.”

“Astinus of the Library of Palanthas,” announced the herald.

To Laurana’s astonishment, every man in the room rose respectfully to his feet-even the great generals and noblemen. All this, she thought, for a librarian? Then, to her even greater astonishment, the Lord of Palanthas and all his generals and all the nobles bowed as the historian entered. Laurana bowed, too, out of confused courtesy. As a member of the royal house of Qualinesti, she was not supposed to bow before anyone on Krynn unless it be her own father, Speaker of the Suns. But when she straightened and studied this man, she felt suddenly that bowing to him had been most fitting and proper.