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Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

“Yes.” said Fizban softly. “A dragon orb. Taken from Ice Wall Castle. It fell into your possession. What have you done with it, Silvara? Where is it now?”

“I sent it away . . .” Silvara said almost inaudibly.

Fizban seemed to age. His face grew weary. Sighing deeply, he leaned heavily upon his staff. “Where did you send it, Silvara? Where is the dragon orb now?”

“St-Sturm has it.” Laurana interrupted fully. “He took it to Sancrist. What does this mean? Is Sturm in danger?”

“Who?” Fizban peered around over his shoulder. “Oh, hullo there, my dear.” He beamed at her. “So nice to see you again.. How’s your father?”

“My father-” Laurana shook her head, confused. “Look, old man, never mind my father! “Who -”

“And your brother.” Fizban extended a hand to Gilthanas. “Good to see you, son. And you, sir.” He bowed to am astonished Theros. “Silver arm? My, my”-he stole a look back at Silvara “what a coincidence. Theros Ironfeld, isn’t it! Heard a lot about you. And my name is. . .”

The old magician paused, his brow furrowed.

“My name is . .”

“Fizban.” supplied Tasslehoff helpfully.

“Fizban .” The old man nodded, smiling.

Laurana thought she saw the old magician cast a warning glance at Silvara. The girl lowered her head as if to acknowledge some silent, secret signal passed between them.

But before Laurana could sort out her whirling thoughts, Fizban turned back to her again. “And now, Laurana, you wonder who Silvara is? It is up to Silvara to tell you. For I must leave you now. I have a long journey ahead of me.”

“Must I tell them?” Silvara asked softly. She was still on her knees and, as she spoke, her eyes went to Gilthanas. Fizban followed her gaze. Seeing the elflord’s stricken face, his own face softened. Then he shook his head sadly.

Silvara raised her hands to him in a pleading gesture. Fizban walked over to her. Taking her hands, he raised her to her feet. She threw her arms around him, and he held her close.

“No, Silvara,” he said, his voice kind and gentle, “you do not have to tell them. The choice is yours that was your sister’s. You can make them forget they were ever here.”

Suddenly the only color left in Silvara’s face was the deep blue of her eyes. “But, that will mean-”

“Yes, Silvara,” he said. “It is up to you.” He kissed the girl on the forehead. “Farewell, Silvara.”

Turning, he looked back at the rest. “Good-bye, good-bye. Nice seeing you again. I’m a bit miffed aback the chicken feathers, but-no hard feelings.” He waited impatiently a minute, glaring at Tasslehoff. “Are you coming? I haven’t got all night!”

“Coming? With you?” Tas, cried, dropping Flint’s head back onto the stone floor with a chunk. The kender stood up. “Of course, let me get my pack . . .” Then he stopped, glancing down at the unconscious dwarf. “Flint?”

“He’ll be fine,” Fizban promised, “you won’t be parted from your friends long. We’ll see them”-he frowned, muttering to himself-“seven days, add three, carry the one, what’s seven tunes four? Oh well, around Famine Time. That’s when they’ll hold the Council meeting. Now, come along. I’ve got work to do. Your friends are in good hands. Silvara will take care of them, won’t you, my dear?” He turned to the Wilder elf.

“I will tell them.” she promised sadly, eyes on Gilthanas.

The elflord was staring at her and at Fizban, his face pale, fear spreading through his soul.

Silvara sighed. “You are right. I broke the oath long ago. I must finish what I set out to do.”

“As you think best.” Fizban laid his hand upon Silvara’s head, stroking her silver hair. Then he turned away.

“Will I be punished?” she asked, just as the old man stepped into the shadows.

Fizban stopped. Shaking his head, he looked back aver his shoulder. “Some would say you are being punished right now, Silvara,” he said softly. “But what you do, you do out of love. As the choice was up to you, so is your punishment.”

The old man stepped into the darkness. Tasslehoff ran after him, his pouches bouncing behind him. “Good-bye, Laurana! Good-bye, Theros! Take care of Flint!” In the silence that followed, Laurana could hear the old man’s voice.

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Categories: Weis, Margaret
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