Dragons of Spring Dawning by Weis, Margaret

“Yes, just a moment,” Tanis said, reluctant to go. He had heard nothing from Riverwind and there was every possibility this map might lead them out of this place.

Bending over the glass, he stared at the miniature more closely. Around the center of the city stood great pavilions and columned palaces. Domes made of glass cradled summer flowers amid the winter snows. In the exact center of the city itself rose a building that seemed familiar to Tanis, though he knew he had never been in this city in his life. Still, he recognized it. Even as he studied it, searching his memory, the hair prickled on the back of his neck.

It seemed to be a temple to the gods. And it was the most beautiful structure he had ever seen, more beautiful than the Towers of the Sun and the Stars in the elven kingdoms. Seven towers rose to the heavens as if praising the gods for their creation. The center tower soared into the skies far above the rest, as if it did not praise the gods, but rivaled them. Confused memories of his elven teachers came back to him, telling him stories of the Cataclysm, stories of the Kingpriest-

Tanis drew back from the miniature, his breath catching in his throat. Berem stared at him in alarm, the man’s face going white.

“What is it?” he croaked in fear, clutching at Tanis.

The half-elf shook his head. He could not speak. The terrible implications of where they were and what was going on were breaking over him like red waters of the Blood Sea.

In confusion, Berem looked at the center of the map. The man’s eyes widened, then he shrieked, a scream unlike any Tanis had heard before. Suddenly Berem threw himself bodily upon the crystal dome, beating at it as if he would tear it apart.

“The City of Damnation!” Berem moaned. “The City of Damnation.”

Tanis started forward to calm him, then he heard Riverwind’s shrill whistle. Grabbing Berem, Tanis hauled him away from the crystal. “I know,” he said. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

But how? How did you get out of a city that was supposed to have been blasted off the face of Krynn? How did you get out of a city that must lie at the very bottom of the Blood Sea?

As he shoved Berem through the door of the map room. Tanis glanced above the doorway. Words were carved in its crumbling marble. Words that had once spoken of one of the wonders of the world. Words whose letters were now cracked and covered with moss. But he could read them.

Welcome, O noble visitor, to our beautiful city.

Welcome to the city beloved of the gods.

Welcome, honored guest, to

Istar.

15

“I killed him once…”

“I’ve seen what you’re doing to him! You’re trying to murder him!” Caramon shouted at Par-Salian. Head of the Tower of High Sorcery-the last Tower of High Sorcery, located in the weird, alien forests of Wayreth- Par-Salian was the highest ranking in the Order of magic-users currently living on Krynn.

To the twenty-year-old warrior, the withered old man in the snowy white robes was a thing he might have broken with his bare hands. The young warrior had put up with a good deal the last two days, but now his patience had run out.

“We are not in the business of murder,” Par-Salian said in his soft voice. “Your brother knew what he faced when he agreed to undergo these Trials. He knew death was the penalty for failure.”

“He didn’t, not really,” Caramon mumbled, brushing his hand across his eyes, “Or if he did, he didn’t care. Sometimes his . . . his love for his magic clouds his thinking.”

“Love? No.” Par-Salian smiled sadly. “I do not think we could call it love.”

“Well, whatever,” Caramon muttered. “He didn’t realize what you were going to do to him! It’s all so damn serious-”

“Of course,” Par-Salian said mildly. “What would happen to you, warrior, if you went into battle without knowing how to use your sword?”

Caramon scowled. “Don’t try to weasel out-“