graves first!”
“Uh, oh,” muttered Caramon and eased himself back
into his seat.
Talking and bantering and laughter ceased, the silence
falling gradually as word circulated. All eyes went to the
man. Hot blood flooded his cheeks. He had obviously not
meant to reveal such a thing about himself. His hand went
to his smooth-shaven upper lip, and it seemed to those
watching that they could almost see the long, flowing
mustaches that marked a Knight of Solamnia. It was not
unusual that he had shaved it off. For long centuries the
Order had stood for justice and law on Krynn. Now the
knights were hated and reviled, blamed for bringing down
the wrath of the gods. What calamity had forced this
knight and his family to flee their homeland without
money and barely the clothes on their backs? The crowd
didn’t know and most of them didn’t care. The proprietor
now wasn’t the only one who wanted the knight and his
family gone.
“Come along, Aileen,” said the knight gruffly. He put
his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’ll not stay in this
place. Not when they cater to the likes of that!” His
narrowed eyes went to Raistlin, to the red robes that
proclaimed him a wizard and the magical staff that stood
by his side. The knight turned stiffly to the barmaid. “I
understand the lord of this realm seeks men to fight the
goblins. If you could tell me where to find him – ”
“He’s seeking fighters,” sang out a man in a far comer
of the common room. “Not pretty boys dressed up in
fancy iron suits.”
“Ho, you’re wrong, Nathan,” called out another. “I
hear His Lordship’s lookin’ for someone to lead a
regiment – a regiment of gully dwarves!”
There was appreciative laughter. The knight choked
with fury, his hand went to the hilt of his sword. His wife
laid a gentle hand restrainingly on his arm. “No, Gawain,”
she murmured, starting to rise to her feet. “We will go.
Come.”
“Stay put, milady. And as for you . . .” The barmaid
glared at the boisterous crowd. “Shut your mouths or
that’ll be the last cold beer I draw for anyone in this inn
tonight.”
Quelled by this awful threat, the men quieted. Putting
her arm around the woman, the barmaid looked up at the
knight. “You’ll find His Lordship in the sheriff’s hall,
about a mile down the street. Go tend to your business,
Sir Knight, and let your lady-wife and the boy rest.
There’s a lot of rough men down there,” she added, seeing
the knight about to refuse. “It’s no fit place for your
child.”
The proprietor came hurrying up. He would have
liked dearly to throw all three out of his inn, but he could
see the crowd was siding with his barmaid in favor of the
woman. Having just put out a grease fire in the kitchen,
the last thing he needed was a riot.
“Go, Sir Knight, will you, please?” pleaded the
innkeeper in a low voice. “We’ll take good care of your
lady.”
The knight seemingly had no choice. Gnawing his lip,
he gave an ungracious assent. “Galeth, watch over your
mother. And speak no word to anyone.” Glancing
meaningfully at the mage, the knight drew his cloak
around his shoulders, cast his hood over his face, and
stalked out of the inn.
“His Lordship’ll have nothing to do with a Knight of
Solamnia,” prophesied Caramon. “Half the army would
quit if he hired him. What did he look at you like that for,
Raist? You didn’t say anything.”
“The knights have no love for magic. It’s something
they can neither control nor understand. And now, my
brother, the hot water! Or are you going to watch me die
here in this wretched inn?”
“Oh, uh, sure, Raist.” Caramon stood up and began
searching the crowd for the barmaid.
“I’ll go!” Earwig leaped to his feet and skipped out of
reach to disappear into the crowd.
Talk and laughter resumed. The proprietor was
arguing over the tab with a couple of his patrons. The
barmaid had disappeared back into the kitchen. The
knight’s wife, overcome by weariness, lay down upon the