Chapter Eleven

Crysania stood upon the second story balcony of the temple with the medallion of Paladine in her hands. She'd wakened to find it in her bedchamber this morning, the metal cool to her touch and, paradoxically, imparting the warmth of the god's presence. The warmth was not as strong as she was used to feeling, but still it was there, assuring her that Paladine yet walked in the world, yet watched over his children. She'd sat a long time with the medallion in her hands, praying. And when she'd done praying, still she wondered how it had come here, into her very bedchamber. Certainly the young mage hadn't returned it. No case could be made for that. And so it must be that the god himself had seen his talisman home to her once Palin had no more need of it.

"But how did he fare?" she whispered now to the white tiger close at her side. "Is my medallion returned because Palin made his way safely through the grove?" She shuddered, turning sightless eyes toward the tower and the grove. "Or is it returned because he did not? " She sighed, "Paladine, be with him, wherever he fares."

Hot wind blew, carrying grit and dust and a faint scent of the sea. Oh, when would the weather break? In the city, they were talking about heat madness, about a citizenry whose nerves were frayed raw by heat and the dread of war. Amothus worried about riot, and he wondered whether the citizens would be able to resist the dragonarmy or simply fall before it. And Crysania prayed, day and night, for the strength Palanthas would need in the face of war.

Tandar put his head under her hand, a reminder of companionship, then returned to his watch. His large head moved from side to side as he observed the people in the courtyard below. Anyone seeing him, she thought, would be forgiven for thinking he knew what was happening, that he'd understood all she'd said to her clerics earlier, her explanation of the coming battle and the High Clerist's Tower need for help. From time to time, though, he left her side, pacing. He stopped—she heard it—at the south end of the balcony looking away across the city to the plains beyond.

"What is it?" she had said to him the first time he'd done that.

He'd only switched his tail, slowly back and forth, the mark of a tiger's unease.

Now he turned his head. He didn't growl. His stance relaxed as the footfalls of Lagan Innis sounded heavily on the tiled floor. For all the years he'd been at the temple, Lagan still walked like a hill dwarf, planting his feet upon mosaic-tiled floors as though he yet roamed the rocky hills of his homeland. He stopped to scratch Tandar's ears, then growled, "Go on, you," when the beast leaned so hard against him that it nearly knocked him from his feet. It was a game with them, and already it seemed to Crysania that of all her clerics, Tandar liked Lagan best.

"My lady," Lagan said, his hand still on the tiger. "They're bringing the wagons around now. Telassa made sure most of the supplies were brought out and ready to load."

Crysania nodded. She heard the movement, the heavy thump of supplies being thrown into the wagon beds, the soft nicker of the horses, the rattle of wheels. Over all, she heard the excitement of her people, and she knew she had made the right decision to send clerics and supplies to Lord Amothus and more on to High Clerist's Tower. The waiting had grated on everyone's nerves. These tasks, though somber ones, released energy too long spent in anxiety.

"Lagan, is there any sign of Firegold yet?"

"None, lady, but the dragon will come." He said that easily, for her sake, but Crysania knew he'd be just as happy to be inside when Firegold arrived. Lagan might get on well with tigers, but he was known for being less than fond of dragons.

"And you should know," he said, hurrying past the talk of dragons, "that two people have come to see you. They seem to be from the desert lands. They say their errand is urgent."

"Please show them to me, Lagan."

She heard him go, then heard others come through the study and stop by the open door. Crysania turned her back to the garden, motioning her visitors forward. Tandar slipped out from under her hand, returning to his watch over the courtyard, showing tigerish disdain for the arrival of visitors whose comings and goings would be of no consequence to him.

Steps sounded as someone came forward. The weight of those steps told her this was a man—human, perhaps, for elves were usually lighter of foot. The second visitor kept still. Light breathing, a uniquely female scent—it was a woman keeping back in the shadows. The man knelt before her, and when she extended her hand, he took it gently in his and kissed it.

"Lady," he said, his voice low and carrying the faint tinge of hoarseness one sometimes hears in desert folk who spend much time shouting against winds as wild as any found on the sea. "Lady, I am Jeril ar Tandar."

The tiger rumbled deep in his chest.

"Valin's brother," Crysania said. "Your voice has the sound of his. Be welcome here in the Temple of Paladine."

He rose and thanked her, and when he stood silent, she lifted her hand to where she imagined his face might be. "May I?"

He lowered his face to accept her touch.

Her fingers told her he was much like Valin in appearance, with high cheekbones and eyes nearly as large as an elf's. His mouth was one stern line, and his hair hung in a long braid over his shoulder in a warrior's braid.

"My lady," he said when she had finished her inspection, "I have come at my brother's request." A steel blade sang out from a scabbard. "My sword is named Desert Light, and I lay it now at your feet. I am yours, Revered Daughter. I will serve as you choose."

Take me with you on your journey, would be more to the point, Crysania thought as she accepted his sword in her cause. Her next thought was to wonder when Valin had found time to summon his brother before leaving for Kalaman.

She neither accepted nor rejected Jeril's offer. She still had a question that needed answering. She looked toward the doorway where the silent visitor stood.

"Who is the lady with you?"

Jeril spoke a word in a language Crysania didn't know. Light footsteps touched the stone floor as his silent companion came forward.

"I am Kela, lady. I am a mage like Valin, and I have come with my husband from the desert to serve you."

"Your husband?" Crysania managed to keep surprise from her voice. Valin liked to talk about his family. He missed them in this foreign city. The Revered Daughter knew a good deal about his father, about his sisters and his brother, about his mother. She hadn't heard that Jeril was married.

"We are newly wed, Revered Daughter. How could I let my husband leave me so soon after the wedding feast?"

She said it with a smile in her voice, as one woman to another, and Crysania politely returned her smile. But Tandar rumbled again, and this time the tiger didn't sound pleased. Was he voicing his opinions of her guests, or was she only imagining his displeasure?

"We're readying for battle," Crysania told them. "As you can see. Some of the clerics are preparing to move to the High Clerist's Tower. I'm sure Valin has told you about… recent developments."

From the sound of his voice, Jeril might well have been smiling. "He told me, lady."

"Then you've seen him? Is he well?"

"I have seen him, but not lately"

"I don't understand."

Hot wind blew across the balcony Out over the sea, a hungry gull cried. "My brother is a mage, lady. He sent word by a fetch that you would soon set out upon a journey."

A fetch! Crysania shivered to think Valin had sent his own ghost out to find his brother with this message.

"Lady, he told me you would send him upon a mission that would keep him from here for some time. He begged me to come to take his place in your company He swore to his need on our mother's soul, on our father's heart. That is a strong oath, lady, the strongest we desert folk know. And so I have come, and I will follow you on your quest. I will protect you with my life."

All this he said as though he were a subaltern speaking to his commander. This tall warrior might look like Valin, but he hardly sounded like him. Had Valin inherited all the good cheer in the family?

Jeril crossed the balcony and stood looking down. "We have heard of the army massing on the plains. I assume this fact and Valin's journey are connected. Down there, in the courtyard—is this the expedition we will join?"

The tiger rumbled, pacing once more along the balcony.

"No," Crysania said, making her decision to accept this dour desert warrior and his wife. "We will form our own party. There will be but five of us." She dropped her voice low. "You will soon know where we are bound, but not until the time to leave is upon us. At that time you may decide whether you will go with me or stay here."

Jeril snorted. "I've sworn an oath to protect you on your journey, lady It matters little to me where you go."

Crysania waited, and into the silence, Kela said, "I feel as my husband does."

"Do you know why I take this journey?"

Kela kept quiet, letting Jeril answer.

"Valin said nothing about that. It doesn't matter. My sword is yours, Revered Daughter. Whatever cause you take up, it can only be for good. I have said it,I will serve as you bid me."

"You are kind," she said, "and you are generous. I accept you, Jeril, and you, Kela. The first thing you must do is find food and drink, for surely you are hungry and tired from your journey. After you have rested, please find the cleric Seralas and tell her all you might have learned, rumor or truth, on your way from the desert. Anything will help, for we have no overabundance of information here."

Jeril started to say something, but he cut himself off in midword with a gasp of surprise.

"What is it?"

"Lady, a gold dragon comes!"

"Ah. That must be Firegold."

The dusty scent of leathery dragon skin filled the air, and the dragon's voice spoke quietly in her mind.

I am here.

In the courtyard, horses snorted and stamped. Voices raised up in greeting and awed delight as Firegold spiraled down from the hot blue sky to the temple grounds.

"Lagan," Crysania called, "are you there?"

"Always," he said, coming out from the study to ask for her orders.

"Continue loading the wagons. I want them on the road so that they can make it to the tower before nightfall."

"And you, lady?"

"I'll be back soon."

Firegold extended a broad, long wing out to the balcony. Crysania reached back and was surprised to find Jeril's strong arm ready to brace her as she sat on the railing as swung her legs over it. She clambered easily, if not gracefully, up the dragon's wing. Firegold wore a saddle wide enough for her to rest her feet upon the bottom.

Once she was comfortably settled, the dragon said, "Lady, you have a tiger nearby."

"I do," she said, "and I ask your indulgence to let him ride along. He is my guide."

Firegold considered the matter for a long moment, then agreed.

Tandar climbed out on the dragon's wing, careful not to dig in his claws as he stepped upon the dragon's great shoulder to take his place behind Crysania on the broad saddle. He leaned hard into her to keep his balance as Firegold pushed with her mighty wings and powerful legs and vaulted into the air.

Air, hot and dry, buffeted them until they were aloft, and the dragon curved toward the mountains. Now the wind streamed across Crysania's face, making her eyes form tears and her hair whip about her shoulders. The tiger leaned more tightly into her, and she reached out to reassure the beast, looping her arm about his powerful shoulders.

She held the tiger so until at last they slowed, descending to the Tower of the High Clerist, and the beast could set paws to ground again.

The Revered Daughter of Paladine, her white tiger at her side, followed the young knight through the winding corridors of the tower. Here the air was blessedly cool, for the walls were of thick stone. Not even the heat of this terrible summer could penetrate them. It was a balm, the coolness, like a tender hand upon a feverish forehead.

The knight led her past a ward room, past barracks from which flowed the sounds and smells of men preparing for battle. Whetstones sang on the edges of blades, and the scent of leather polish hung in the air. And there were many voices. Men young and old, warriors all, spoke of their readiness for battle, some of them with certainty that victory would be theirs.

"Well, it must be so," said a very young, very assured voice.

Oh, Crysania thought, had that boy's voice only lately broken? Had he only lately kissed his sweetheart farewell and gone laughing to his barracks to prepare for battle?

"Victory must be ours, you see, because we are Solamnics. Our god is Paladine, and he is all that is good and right. How can you lose when you are on the side of good and right?"

If anyone answered the boy, Crysania didn't hear it. Her knight led her past those rooms and into other corridors. Up the stairs they went, winding and high, and at last the knight halted. Sounds of dispute rang out from a corridor to their left. Among the angry voices, Crysania recognized one as that of Tanis Half-Elven. She recognized the snap of anger in his tone, and that didn't surprise her. Her old friend had no trouble expressing his feelings. What surprised her was to hear that anger rise in defense of the Lord of the Tower of High Sorcery.

"Lord Dalamar comes in good faith," Tanis was saying. "I swear it. I will answer for him with my life if need be."

Crysania put her hand on Tandar's shoulder, urging him forward, obliging the knight to follow.

"My lords," she said, "I will swear as my friend Tanis swears."

In the corridor, the knights dropped to their knees, swords rattling, armor clanking. A great welling of affection rose in her for these proud men who humbled themselves before Paladine's cleric. The words of the young knight so assured of victory returned to her, and she wondered how men such as these could be defeated.

"Please," she said, "gentlemen, rise." Crysania smiled and turned in the direction from which she'd heard Tanis's voice.

She turned her head slightly, picking out Dalamar by his scent and the shimmer of magic. With a touch, she asked Tandar to guide her to the dark mage. She heard the knights mutter in surprise to see the Revered Daughter guided by this great white tiger. Their muttering changed to silence as, his voice only slightly edged with sarcasm, Dalamar took her hand and bowed over it, saying, "I thank you for your affirmation, Revered Daughter." His lips brushed her hand lightly.

Crysania inclined her head in acknowledgment, then turned to the knights and asked that they escort her and her friends to Sir Thomas.

As Knights of Solamnia, the men served Paladine, and so they were obliged to obey her wishes, but she had never felt such a show of reluctance. Clearly they didn't want Dalamar anywhere near their beloved commander.

"Gentlemen," she said, giving the word the weight of command.

"My lady," the commander snapped, as he would to a superior's order.

He ordered his men into formation, then led the way for Tanis, Dalamar, and Crysania. Tandar angled to keep himself between her and Dalamar.

"How did you know I would be here, Revered Daughter?" Dalamar asked. "Are my movements being monitored by the temple?"

"Paladine watches over all of his children," she said, "as a shepherd watches over all his sheep. That includes black sheep."

She heard his swift intake of breath. She felt his annoyance, like the tingle of lightning on the skin. Smiling, she said, "No, sir wizard, I did not know you were here. It is only coincidence that sets our paths crossing today."

She felt his suspicion increase. She knew he wondered why she was here and not on her way to Neraka. Well, she thought, let him wonder. He has been trying to direct my path for too long now. He will know I am gone when I have left.

Yet even as she thought this, she felt a twinge of regret. Had none of them learned anything after all the years of war and strife? Tanis and his wife, Laurana, had been trying for years to unite all the races and end the suspicion between White- and Red- and Black-Robed mages, between mages and clerics and knights. Dreamers, they were called, and simple-hearted, and things much worse than that. Crysania sighed. It seemed the only time people could agree on an alliance was when they were forced into it by having to choose between joining together or dying separately.

Dalamar moved closer. "I take it, then, Revered Daughter, that your god still has nothing to say to you about what is transpiring in the world?"

She stopped. Tanis slowed his steps, listening. She knew that by the sound of his breathing. At her side, Tandar made a low rumbling sound in his throat, not quite a growl but certainly a warning.

Dalamar spoke more gently. "I do not ask out of some vindictive sense of triumph, Revered Daughter. My own god, Nuitari, has been strangely silent of late, as have all the gods of magic."

"What about…" She hesitated over the name, then chose the honorific instead. "What about your Dark Queen?"

He took a long moment before replying. Concocting a half-truth, she wondered, or wrestling with the need to admit what he doesn't like to admit? In the end, he said, "I don't know. All I know is that Nuitari's power wanes, and as a consequence, my own power has been affected. The same is true of Lunitari and Solinari. All mages report this phenomenon. It's almost as if the gods are preoccupied."

Crysania took a deep breath. "You are right, my lord. When I heard these rumors, I took them to my god in prayer. He made himself… distant." She paused. "You see this talisman I wear around my neck?" She touched the dragon reverently, reaching for its warmth, barely finding it. "Whenever I prayed to Paladine in the past, I felt his love surround me. This medallion would begin to glow with a soft light. My soul would be quieted, my troubles and fears eased."

She stroked the medallion with one hand, feeling the comforting shoulder of the tiger with her other hand. She sensed Dalamar and Tanis waiting for her next words as they walked slowly along the hallway.

"Of late, the medallion has remained quiet. I know Paladine hears my prayers; I feel that he wants to comfort me. But I fear that he has no comfort to offer."

"Perhaps," Dalamar said, "we may find an answer to our questions soon." He hesitated, then continued, his voice so low that only she and Tanis could hear. "Palin Majere has entered the portal."

Tanis drew a sharp breath.

At her side, the tiger growled softly.

Crysania's heart sank as she remembered her midnight encounter in the temple gardens. "Is this true?" she whispered. "Or are you at gamesmanship again, my lord?"

Dalamar made a small sound of regret. "No games this time, my lady. What I say is so."

Such finality when she'd hoped for a riddle in reply!

"How did he get in, Dalamar? You sealed the laboratory. You posted guards."

"He was invited, my lady. I think you can guess by whom."

Tanis took her arm, not to guide but to assure her of his presence. "You let Palin go inside? You should have stopped him."

Dalamar's laughter rang sharply in the corridors. Ahead, the knights did not react though Crysania could not doubt they felt the chill of it, one and all.

"I did not have much choice in the matter, Half-Elven. All of us know firsthand of Raistlin's power. You better than some, eh?"

Tanis bristled, the dark elf chuckled, and Crysania said into the silence, "Raistlin Majere is dead."

She gently withdrew her arm from Tanis's hand. At her side, Tandar leaned against her legs. "You know it as well as I do, Dalamar. He was granted peace for his sacrifice in the Abyss. If Palin Majere has been lured into the Abyss, then it must be by some other force."

"You seem so certain, lady"

"I am," she said. "You forget, my lord—I was there."

He didn't accept that. She knew it, but he said no more. They went on in silence, the corridor ringing with the footsteps of their escort, until they came at last to Sir Thomas's chamber.

The commander threw open the doors to the chamber in which the Knights Council had been convened. Three knights from each of the orders, Rose, Sword, and Crown, sat at a table opposite the doors. Each rose to greet her and accept her blessing, and when Sir Thomas expressed his surprise at seeing her, she told him she'd come to learn what she might, and to let him know that he would soon be receiving a contingent of clerics from the temple, each skilled in the healing craft.

"They will come fully supplied, Sir Thomas, and I pray they will return home having had little to do."

It was a courtesy, a hope, a gentle gesture. It was accepted as such by all but Dalamar, who laughed softly.

"My lords," said the dark elf, his voice low and dangerous. "The Revered Daughter is good to hope, but you would be wise to hear what I have come to say. The Knights of Takhisis will attack this fortification at dawn tomorrow morning."

Voices rose to challenge this bold assertion, the angry, stern voices of men who'd been seeking news about the enemy and had found little until one they considered a foeman walked into their keep and delivered it with a smile. At her side Tandar moved restlessly, his tail switching.

Her voice calm, her hands still upon the table, Crysania said, "Tomorrow, my lord? How can this be?"

"What is," he said coolly, "simply is, my lady. That's how it can be. There is more: Dark clerics entered the haunted ruins and summoned the shades of the dead to join the fight. They stopped in Dargaard Keep, and I have no doubt that you will find Lord Soth and his warriors among the attacking forces." There were a few snorts and chuckles of disbelief, and Dalamar continued. "Lord Ariakan is their leader. You trained him yourselves. You know his worth better than I do."

They knew, each one of them, and so they knew the forces allied against them were the most formidable any of them had ever faced. And yet… and yet theirs were the boldest hearts, the strongest, the most daring. They were Knights of Solamnia, terrible in battle and glorious in victory.

Sir Thomas leaned forward and said, "Your news is grim, my lord. The storm of war is upon us, and it may be that none have seen a darker time than will soon be here. Yet I say this to you: The Tower of the High Clerist has never fallen while men of faith defended it."

His fellow knights murmured agreement, heartening each other, but an aching chill sat upon Crysania's heart, like creeping ice. All the pieces of the picture fell suddenly into place. The rumors that once haunted her now became truths. With a flash of understanding, she knew what was about to happen.

"My lords," she said, wishing she could offer hope instead of what she must, "perhaps that is because men of faith have never attacked the tower."

Dalamar was quick to understand. "The Knights of Takhisis have been raised together since boyhood," he said. "They are unswervingly loyal to their queen, to their commanders, to each other. They will sacrifice anything, including their lives, to advance their cause. They live by a code of honor as strict and pure as yours, Sir Thomas. Indeed, Lord Ariakan patterned it after your own. "And so you see, my lords, that you have never been in greater danger."

Crysania lapsed back into silence as the discussion heated up over the strength of the advancing army. The knights were caught off guard. No reinforcements were expected; messengers had been sent to the eastern lands and returned with the hard news that the eastern lands were already under siege. The size and speed of Ariakan's army was cause for genuine alarm.

Sir Thomas remained undaunted by the discussion. He straightened. "We are prepared, my lords, my lady. The fewer the numbers, the greater the glory. Paladine and Kiri-Jolith are with us."

"Their blessings on you," Crysania answered, and the words she had spoken so often seemed freshly minted now, filled with all her good will and hope.

Yet that hope seemed forlorn. Sir Thomas and his gallant knights could not know what she and Dalamar knew. Not even Tanis seemed to understand.

Perhaps the gods upon whom they all depended had no aid to offer.