The dwarf shook his head. "I'll bet my beard," he said gloomily, "that Tasslehoff's involved."
The broken chain plummeted to the stone floor of the Chain Room in the Sla-Mori, three little figures falling with it.
Tasslehoff, clinging uselessly to the chain, tumbled through the darkness and thought, this is how it feels to die. It was an interesting sensation and he was sorry he couldn't experience it longer. Above him, he could hear Sestun shrieking in terror. Below, he heard the old mage muttering to himself, probably trying one last spell. Then Fizban raised his voice: «Pveatherf-» The word was cut off with a scream. There was the sound of a bone-crushing thud as the old magician crashed to the floor. Tasslehoff grieved, even though he knew he was next. The stone floor was approaching. Within a very few seconds he too would be dead…
Then it was snowing.
At least that was what the kender thought. Then he realized with a shock that he was surrounded by millions and millions of feathers-like an explosion of chickens! He sank into a deep, vast pile of white feathers, Sestun tumbling in after him.
"Poor Fizban," Tas said, blinking tears from his eyes as he floundered in an ocean of white chicken feathers. "His last spell must have been featherfall like Raistlin uses. Wouldn't you know it? He just got the feathers."
Above him, the cogwheel turned faster and faster, the freed chain rushing through it as if rejoicing in its release from bondge.
Outdoors in the courtyard chaos reigned.
"Over here!" Tanis yelled, bursting out of the door, knowing they were doomed but refusing to give in. The companions gathered around him, weapons drawn, looking at him anxiously.
"Run to the mines! Run for shelter! Verminaard and the red dragon didn't leave. It is a trap. They'll be on us any moment."
The others, their faces grim, nodded. All of them knew it was hopeless-they must cover about two hundred yards of flat, wide-open surface to reach safety.
They tried to herd the women and children along as swiftly as possible, but not very successfully. All the mothers and children needed to be sorted out. Then Tanis, looking over at the mines, swore aloud in added frustration.
The men of the mines, seeing their families free, quickly overpowered the guards and began running toward the courtyard! That wasn't the plan! What was Elistan thinking about? Within moments there would be eight hundred frantic people milling around out in the open without a scrap of shelter! He had to get them to head back south to the mountains.
"Where's Eben?" he called to Sturm.
"Last I saw him, he was running for the mines. I couldn't figure out why-"
The knight and half-elf gasped in sudden realization.
"Of course," said Tanis softly his voice lost in the commotion "It all fits."
As Eben ran for the mines, his one thought was to obey Pyros's command. Somehow, in the midst of this furor, he had to find the Green Gemstone Man. He knew what Verminaard and Pyros were going to do to these poor wretches. Eben felt amoment's pity-he was not, after all, cruel and vicious. He had amply seen, long ago, which side was bound to win, and he — determined, for once, to be on a winning side.
When his family's fortune was wiped out, Eben was left with only one thing to sell-himself. He was intelligent, handy with a sword, and as loyal as money could buy. It was on a journey to north, looking for possible buyers, that Eben met Vermiaard. Eben had been impressed with Verminaard's power and had wormed his way into the evil cleric's favor. But more importantly, he had managed to make himself useful to Pyros. The dragon found Eben charming, intelligent, resourceful, and- after a few tests-trustworthy.
Eben was sent home to Gateway just before the dragonarmies struck. He conveniently «escaped» and started his resistance group. Stumbling upon Gilthanas's party of elves the first time they tried to sneak into Pax Tharkas was a stroke of luck that further improved Eben's relationship with both Pyros and Verminaard. When the cleric actually fell into Eben's hands, he couldn't believe his luck. It must go to show how much the Dark Queen favored him, he supposed.
He prayed that the Dark Queen continue to favor him. Finding the Green Gemstone Man in this confusion was going to take divine intervention. Hundreds of men were milling about uncertainly. Eben saw a chance to do Verminaard another favor. "Tanis wants you men to meet in the courtyard," he cried. "Join your families."
"No! That isn't the plan!" Elistan cried, trying to stop them. But he was too late. The men, seeing their families free, surged forward. Several hundred gully dwarves added to the confusion, rushing gleefully out of the mines to join the fun, thinking, perhaps, it was a holiday.
Eben scanned the crowd anxiously for the Green Gemstone Man, then dedded to look inside the prison cells. Sure enough, he found the man sitting alone, staring vaguely around the empty cell. Eben swiftly knelt beside him, racking his brain to come up with the man's name. It was something odd, old-fashioned…
"Berem," Eben said after a moment. "Berem?"
The man looked up, interest lighting his face for the first time in many weeks. He was not, as Toede had assumed, deaf and dumb. He was, instead, a man obsessed, totally absorbed in his own secret quest. He was human, however, and the sound of a human voice speaking his name was inordinately comforting.
"Berem," said Eben again, licking his lips nervously. Now that he had him, he wasn't sure what to do with him. He knew the first thing those poor wretches outside would do when the dragon struck would be to head for the safety of the mines. He had to get Berem out of here before Tanis caught them. But where? He could take the man inside Pax Tharkas as Pyros had ordered, but Eben didn't like that idea. Verminaard would certainly find them and, his suspicions aroused, would ask questions Eben couldn't answer.
No, there was only one place Eben could take him and be safe-outside the walls of Pax Tharkas. They could lie low in the wilderness until the confusion died, then sneak back inside the fortress at night. His decision made, Eben took Berem's arm and helped the man rise to his feet.
'There's going to be fighting," he said. "I'm going to take you away, keep you safe until it is over. I am your friend. Do you understand?"
The man regarded him with a look of penetrating wisdom and intelligence. It was not the ageless look of the elves but of a human who has lived in torment for countless years. Berem gave a small sigh and nodded.
Verminaard strode from his chamber in a fury, yanking at his leather, armored gloves. A draconian trotted behind, carrying the Highlord's mace, Nightbringer. Other draconians milled around, acting on the orders Verminaard gave as he stepped into the corridor, returning to Pyros's lair.
"No, you fools, don't recall the army! This will take but a moment of my time. Qualinesti will be in flames by nightfall.
Ember!" he shouted, throwing open the doors that led to the dragon's lair. He stepped out onto the ledge. Peering upward toward the balcony he could see smoke and flame and, in the distance, hear the dragon's roar.
"Ember!" There was no answer. "How long does it take to capture a handful of spies?" he demanded furiously. Turning, he nearly fell over a draconian captain.
"Will you be using the dragonsaddle, my lord?"
"No, there isn't time. Besides, I use that only for combat and there will no one to fight out there, simply a few hundred slaves to burn."
"But the slaves have overcome the guards at the mine and are rejoining their families in the courtyard."
"How strong are your forces?"
"Not nearly strong enough, my lord," the draconian captain said, its eyes glinting. The captain had never thought it wise to deplete the garrison. "We are forty or fifty, perhaps, to over three hundred men and an equal number of women. The women will undoubtedly fight alongside the men, your lordship, and if they never get organized and escape into the mountains-"