“Someone is there now, watching him?”
“Certainly, Highlord. You will be informed immediately if he-or any inside-leaves the building.”
The Highlord stood in silence for a moment, then she turned around. Her face was cold and calm, although extremely pale. But there were a number of factors that could have accounted for her pallor, the draconian thought. It was a long flight from the High Clerist’s Tower-rumor had it her armies had been badly defeated there-the legendary dragonlance had reappeared, along with the dragon orbs. Then there was her failure to find the Green Gemstone Man, so desperately sought by the Queen of Darkness, and who was reported to have been seen in Flotsam. The Highlord had a great many things to worry about, the draconian thought with amusement. Why concern herself over one man? She had lovers aplenty, most of them much more charming, much more eager to please than that moody half-elf. Bakaris, for example . . .
“You have done well,” Kitiara said finally, breaking in on the draconian’s musings. Stripping off her armor with a careless lack of modesty, she waved a negligent hand. She almost seemed herself again. “You will be rewarded. Now leave me.”
The draconian bowed again and left, eyes staring at the floor. The creature was not fooled. As it left, the dragonman saw the Highlord’s gaze fall upon a scrap of parchment resting on the table. The draconian had seen that parchment upon entering. It was, the creature noted, covered with writing in a delicate elvish script. As the draconian shut the door, there came a crashing sound-the sound of a piece of dragonarmor being hurled full force against a wall.
2
Pursuit
The gale blew itself out toward morning. The sound of water dripping monotonously from the eaves thudded in Tanis’s aching head, almost making him wish for a return of the shrieking wind. The sky was gray and lowering. Its leaden weight pressed down upon the half-elf. “The seas will be running high,” Caramon said sagely. Having listened eagerly to the sea stories told them by William, the innkeeper of the Pig and Whistle in Port Balif or, Caramon considered himself somewhat of an expert on nautical matters. None of the others disputed him, knowing nothing about the sea themselves. Only Raistlin regarded Caramon with a sneering smile when his brother-who had been on small boats only a few times in his life-began talking like an old seadog.
“Maybe we shouldn’t even risk going out-” Tika began.
“We’re going. Today.” Tanis said grimly. “If we have to swim, we’re leaving Flotsam.”
The others glanced at each other, then looked back at Tanis. Standing, staring out the window, he did not see their raised eyebrows or their shrugging shoulders, though he was aware of them all the same.
The companions were gathered in the brothers’ room. It would not be dawn for another hour, but Tanis had awakened them as soon as he heard the wind cease its savage howl.
He drew a deep breath, then turned to face them. “I’m sorry. I know I sound arbitrary,” he said, “but there are dangers I know about that I can’t explain right now. There isn’t time. All I can tell you is this-we have never in our lives been in more dire peril than we are at this moment in this town. We must leave and we must leave now!” He heard a hysterical note creep into his voice and broke off.
There was silence, then, “Sure, Tanis,” Caramon said uneasily.
“We’re all packed,” Goldmoon added. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
“Let’s go then,” Tanis said.
“I’ve got to get my things,” Tika faltered.
“Go on. Be quick,” Tanis told her.
“I-I’ll help her,” Caramon offered in a low voice.
The big man, dressed, like Tanis, in the stolen armor of a dragonarmy officer, and Tika left quickly, probably hoping to snatch time enough for a last few minutes alone, Tanis thought, fuming in impatience. Goldmoon and Riverwind left to gather their things as well. Raistlin remained in the room, not moving. He had all he needed to carry with him-his pouches with his precious spell components, the Staff of Magius, and the precious marble of the dragon orb, tucked away inside its nondescript bag.
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