Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

“Theros,” Tas said in a strangled voice. “Your arm-”

“Questions later, little thief,” the smith said sternly. “Now we move swift and now we move silent.”

“Across the river,” Flint moaned, shaking his head. “More boats. More boats. . . .”

“I want to see the Speaker,” Laurana told the guard at the door to her father’s suite of rooms.

“It is late,” the guard said. “The Speaker is sleeping.”

Laurana drew back her hood. The guard bowed. “Forgive me, Princess. I did not recognize you.” He glanced at Silvara suspiciously. “Who is that with you?”

“My maid. I would not travel at night by myself.”

“No, of course not.” the guard said hurriedly as he opened the door. “Go ahead. His sleeping room is the third one down the hall on your right.”

“Thank you.” Laurana answered and brushed past the guard. Silvara, muffled in a voluminous cape, swept softly after her.

“The chest is in his room, at the foot of his bed.” Laurana whispered to Silvara. “Are you sure you can carry the dragon orb? It is big and very heavy.”

“It’s not that big.” Silvara murmured, staring perplexed at Laurana. “Only about so-“She made a gesture with her hands roughly the shape of a child’s ball.

“No.” Laurana said, frowning. “You have not have seen it. It is nearly two feet in diameter. That’s why I had you wear that long cape.”

Silvara stared at her in wonder. Laurana shrugged. “Well, we can’t stand here arguing. We’ll figure something out when the time comes.”

The two crept down the hallway, silently as kender, until they came to the bedroom.

Holding her breath, fearing that even her heartbeat was too loud, Laurana pressed on the door. It opened with a creaking sound that made her grit her teeth. Next to her, Silvara shivered in fear. A figure in the bed stirred and turned over-her mother. Laurana saw her father, even in his sleep, put out his hand to pat her reassuringly. Tears dimmed Laurana’s eyes. Tightening her lips resolutely, she gripped Silvara’s hand and slipped inside the room.

The chest stood at the end of her father’s bed. It was locked, but the companions all carried a copy of the small silver key. Swiftly Laurana unlocked the chest, and lifted the lid. Then she nearly dropped it in her amazement. The dragon orb was there, still glowing with the soft white and blue light. But it wasn’t the same orb! Or, if it was, it had shrunk! As Silvara said, it was now no more than the size of a child’s playing ball! Laurana reached in to take it. It was still heavy, but she could lift it easily. Gingerly grasping it, her hand shaking, she raised it from the box and handed it to Silvara. The Wilder elf immediately hid it beneath her cloak. Laurana picked up the wood shaft of the broken dragonlance, wondering, as she did so, why she bothered taking the broken old weapon.

I’ll take it because the knight handed it to Sturm, she thought. He wanted him to have it.

At the bottom of the chest lay Tanis’s sword, Wyrmslayer, given him by Kith-Kanan. Laurana looked from the sword to the dragonlance. I can’t carry both, she thought, and started to put the lance back. But Silvara grabbed her.

“What are you doing?” Her mouth formed the words, her eyes flashed. “Take it! Take it, toot”

Laurana stared at the girl in amazement. Then, hastily, she retrieved the lance, concealed it beneath her cloak, and carefully shut the chest, leaving the sword inside. Just as the lid left her cold fingers, her father rolled over in his bed, half-sitting up.

“What? Who is there?” he asked, starting to shake off has sleep in his alarm.

Laurana felt Silvara trembling and clutched the girl’s hand reassuringly, warning her to be silent.

“It is I, Father,” she said in a faint voice. “Laurana. I-I wanted to-to tell you I am sorry, Father. And ask you to forgive me.”

“Ah, Laurana.” The Speaker lay back down on his pillows; closing his eyes. “I forgive you, my daughter. Now return to your bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”