Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

“Hush!” Tanis ordered, realizing Tas had managed to escape.

Flint turned purple. ‘Why that little bastard!” he swore. “He was the one got us into this and he left us to-”

“Shhh!” Tamil said, glaring at the dwarf.

Flint ducked and fell silent.

The constable hustled his prisoners into the Hall of Justice. It was only when they were safely inside the ugly brick building chat he realized one of them was missing.

“Shall we go after him, sir?” asked a guard.

The constable thought a moment, then shook his head in anger. “Don’t waste your time,” he said bitterly. “Do you know what it’s like trying to find a kender who doesn’t want to be found? Let him go. We’ve still got the important ones. Have them wait here while I inform the Council.”

The constable entered a plain wooden door, leaving the companions and their guards standing in a dark, smelly hallway. A tinker lay in a corner, snoring noisily, obviously having taken too much wine. The guards wiped pumpkin rind off their uniforms and grimly divested themselves of carrot tops and other garbage that clung to them. Gilthanas dabbed at the blood on his face. Sturm tried to clean his cloak as best he could.

The constable returned, beckoning from the doorway.

“Bring them along.”

As the guards shoved their prisoners forward, Tanis managed to get near Sturm. “Who’s in charge here?” he whispered.

“If we are fortunate, the Lord is still in control of the city.” the knight replied softly. “The Tarsian lords always had the reputation for being noble and honorable.” He shrugged. “Besides, what charges do they have against us? We’ve done nothing. At the worst, an armed escort will make us leave the city.”

Tanis shook his head dubiously as he entered the court room. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the dingy chambers that smelled even worse than the hallway. Two of the Tarsian council members held oranges studded with cloves up to their noses.

The six members of the council were seated at the bench, which stood upon a tall platform, three upon either side of their Lard, whose tall chair sat in the center. The Lord glanced up as they entered. His eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of Sturm, and it seemed to Tanis that his face softened. The Lord even nodded in a gesture of polite greeting to the knight. Tanis’s hopes rose. The companions walked forward to stand before the bench. There were no chairs. Supplicants or prisoners before the council stand to present their cases.

“What is the charge against these men?” the lord asked.

The constable gave the companions a baleful glance.

“Inciting a riot, milord,” he said.

“Riot!” Flint exploded. “We had nothing to do with any riot! It oral that rattle-brained-”

A figure in long robes crept forward from the shadows to whisper in his Lordship’s ear. None of the companions had noticed the figure as they entered. They noticed it now.

Flint coughed and fell silent, giving Tanis a meaningful, grim look from beneath his thick, white eyebrows. The dwarf shook his head, his shoulders slumped. Tanis, sighed wearily. Gilthanas wiped blood from his cut with a shaking hand, his elven features pale with hatred. Only Sturm stood outwardly calm and unmoved as he looked upon the twisted half-man, half-reptilian face of a draconian.

The companions remaining in the Inn sat together in Elistan’s room for at least an hour after the others were taken away by the guards. Caramon remained on guard near the door, his sword drawn. Riverwind kept watch out the window. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of the angry mob and looked at each other with tense, strained faces. Then the noise faded. No one disturbed them. The Inn was deathly quiet.

The morning wore on without incident. The pale, cold sun climbed in the sky, doing little to warm the winter day. Caramon sheathed his sword and yawned. Tika dragged a chair over to sit beside him. Riverwind went to stand watchfully near Goldmoon, who was talking quietly to Elistan, making plans for the refugees.

Only Laurana remained standing by the window, though there was nothing to see. The guards had apparently grown tired of marching up and down the street and now huddled in doorways, trying to keep warm. Behind her, she could hear Tika and Caramon laugh softly together. Laurana glanced around at them. Talking too quietly to be heard, Caramon appeared to be describing a battle. Tika listened intently, her eyes gleaming with admiration.