The kender turned slowly around. “I guess I don’t want to talk to Kitiara,” he said softly, brushing his hand across his eyes as he watched the dragons fly closer and closer. “I don’t want to know what it’s like being a Highlord, because it must be sad and dark and horrible… Wait-”
Tas stared eastward. He couldn’t believe his eyes, so he leaned far out, perilously close to falling over the edge of the wall.
“Flint!” he shouted, waving his arms.
“What is it?” Flint snapped. Catching hold of Tas by the belt of his blue leggings, the dwarf hauled the excited kender back in with jerk.
“It’s like in Pax Tharkas!” Tas babbled incoherently. “Like Huma’s tomb. Like Fizban said! They’re here! They’ve come!”
“Who’s here!” Flint roared in exasperation.
Jumping up and down in excitement, his pouches bouncing around wildly, Tas turned without answering and dashed off, leaving the dwarf fuming on the stairs, calling out, “Who’s here, you rattlebrain?”
“Laurana!” shouted Tas’s shrill voice, splitting the early morning air like a slightly off-key trumpet. “Laurana, they’ve come! They’re here! Like Fizban said! Laurana!”
Cursing the kender beneath his breath, Flint stared back out to the east. Then, glancing around swiftly, the dwarf slipped a hand inside a vest pocket. Hurriedly he drew out a pair of glasses and-looking around again to make certain no one was watching him-he slipped them on.
Now he could make out what had been nothing more than a haze of pink light broken by the darker, pointed masses of the mountain range. The dwarf drew a deep, trembling breath. His eyes dimmed with tears. Quickly he snatched the glasses off his nose and put them back into their case, slipping them back into his pocket. But he’d worn the glasses just long enough to see the dawn touch the wings of dragons with a pink light-pink glinting off silver.
“Put your weapons down, lads,” Flint said to the men around him, mopping his eyes with one of the kender’s handkerchiefs. “Praise be to Reorx. Now we have a chance. Now we have a chance…”
8
The Oath of the Dragons.
The silver dragons settled to the ground on the outskirts of the great city of Palanthas, their wings filled the morning sky with a blinding radiance. The people crowded the walls to stare out uneasily at the beautiful, magnificent creatures.
At first the people had been so terrified of the huge beasts, that they were intent on driving them away, even when Laurana assured them that these dragons were not evil. Finally Astinus himself emerged from his library and coldly informed Lord Amothus that these dragons would not harm them. Reluctantly the people of Palanthas laid down their weapons.
Laurana knew, however, that the people would have believed Astinus if he told them the sun would rise at midnight. They did not believe in the dragons.
It wasn’t until Laurana herself walked out of the city gates and straight into the arms of a man who had been riding one of the beautiful silver dragons that the people begin to think there might be something to this children’s story after all.
“Who is that man? Who has brought the dragons to us? Why have the dragons come?”
Jostling and shoving, the people leaned over the wall, asking questions and listening to the wrong answers. Out in the valley, the dragons slowly fanned their wings to keep their circulation going in the chill morning.
As Laurana embraced the man, another person climbed down off one of the dragons-a woman whose hair gleamed as silver as the dragon’s wings. Laurana embraced this woman, too. Then, to the wonder of the people, Astinus led the three of them to the great library, where they were admitted by the Aesthetics. The huge doors shut behind them.
The people were left to mill about, buzzing with questions and casting dubious glances at the dragons sitting before their city walls.
Then the bells rang out once more. Lord Amothus was calling a meeting. Hurriedly the people left the walls to fill the city square before the Lord’s palace as he came out onto a balcony to answer their questions.
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