His own face flushing, he made his belated introductions.
“May I present Crysania of Tarinius, Revered Daughter of
Paladine,” Tanis said formally. “Lady Crysania, Riverwind,
Chieftain of the Plainsmen, and Tika Waylan Majere.”
Crysania untied her traveling cloak and drew back her hood.
As she did so, the platinum medallion she wore around her
neck flashed in the bright candlelight of the Inn. The woman’s
pure white lamb’s wool robes peeped through the folds of her
cloak. A murmur – both reverent and respectful – went
through the crowd.
“A holy cleric!”
“Did you catch her name? Crysania! Next in line…”
“Elistan’s successor…”
Crysania inclined her head. Riverwind bowed from the
waist, his face solemn, and Tika, her own face still so flushed
she appeared feverish, shoved Raf hurriedly behind the bar,
then made a deep curtsey.
At the sound of Tika’s married name, Majere, Crysania
glanced at Tanis questioningly and received his nod in return.
“I am honored,” Crysania said in her rich, cool voice, “to
meet two whose deeds of courage shine as an example to us all.”
Tika flushed in pleased embarrassment. Riverwind’s stern
face did not change expression, but Tanis saw how much the
cleric’s praise meant to the deeply religious Plainsman. As for
the crowd, they cheered boisterously at this honor to their own
and kept on cheering. Otik, with all due ceremony, led his
guests to a waiting table, beaming on the heroes as if he had
arranged the entire war especially for their benefit.
Sitting down, Tanis at first felt disturbed by the confusion
and noise but soon decided it was beneficial. At least he could
talk to Riverwind without fear of being overheard. But first, he
had to find out – where was Caramon?
Once again, he started to ask, but Tika – after seeing them
seated and fussing over Crysania like a mother hen – saw him
open his mouth and, turning abruptly, disappeared into the
kitchen.
Tanis shook his head, puzzled, but before he could think
about it further, Riverwind was asking him questions. The two
were soon deeply involved in talk.
“Everyone thinks the war is over,” Tanis said, sighing. “And
that places us in worse danger than before. Alliances between
elves and humans that were strong when times were dark are
beginning to melt in the sun. Laurana’s in Qualinesti now,
attending the funeral of her father and also trying to arrange an
agreement with that stiff-necked brother of hers, Porthios, and
the Knights of Solamnia. The only ray of hope we have is in
Porthios’s wife, Alhana Starbreeze.” Tanis smiled. “I never
thought I would live to see that elfwoman not only tolerant of
humans and other races, but even warmly supporting them to
her intolerant husband.”
“A strange marriage,” Riverwind commented, and Tanis
nodded in agreement. Both men’s thoughts were with their
friend, the knight, Sturm Brightblade, now lying dead – hero
of the High Clerist’s Tower. Both knew Alhana’s heart had been
buried there in the darkness with Sturm.
“Certainly not a marriage of love.” Tanis shrugged. “But it
may be a marriage that will help restore order to the world.
Now, what of you, my friend? Your face is dark and drawn
with new worries, as well as beaming with new joy. Goldmoon
sent Laurana word of the twins.”
Riverwind smiled briefly. “You are right. I begrudge every
minute I am away,” the Plainsman said in his deep voice,
“though seeing you again, my brother, lightens my heart’s bur-.
den. But I left two tribes on the verge of war. So far, I have
managed to keep them talking, and there has been no blood
shed yet. But malcontents work against me, behind my back.
Every minute I am away gives them a chance to stir up old
blood feuds.”
Tanis clasped his arm. “I am sorry, my friend, and I am grate-
ful you came.” Then he sighed again and glanced at Crysania,
realizing he had new problems. “I had hoped you would be able
to offer this lady your guidance and protection.” His voice sank
to a murmur. “She travels to the Tower of High Sorcery in Way-
reth Forest.”
Riverwind’s eyes widened in alarm and disapproval. The