“What of it?” Aran asked, shrugging.
“He’s spying on us.” Derek motioned them closer. “Speak Solamnic and keep your voices down. I do not trust him. He and his sister mean to steal the dragon orb.”
“So do we,” said Aran, with a cavernous yawn.
“They mean to steal it from us,” Derek said, “and if they get their hands on it, they will take it back to the elves.”
“Whereas we’re taking it for humans,” said Aran.
“There’s a difference,” said Derek sternly.
“Oh, of course,” said Aran, grinning. “We’re humans and they’re elves, which makes us good and them bad. I understand completely.”
“I will not even dignify that with a comment,” Derek returned. “We knights should be the ones to determine the best way to make use of the orb.”
Brian sat up as straight as he could, given that his head brushed the tent ceiling. “Lord Gunthar has promised that the knights will take the orb to the Whitestone Council. The elves are part of that council and they will have a say in what happens to the orb.”
“I have been giving that matter some thought,” said Derek. “I am not certain that is the wisest decision, but we can determine all that later. For the moment, we must keep an eye on that elf and his friends. I believe they are all in this together, including Brightblade.”
“So we’re spying on them now? What does the Measure have to say about that?” Aran asked dryly.
“‘Know your enemy,’ “Derek replied.
Laurana knew quite well Gilthanas was leaving to spy on Derek. She also knew she could do nothing to stop him. She squirmed uncomfortably. Only hours before she had thought she could never be warm again. Now she was growing uncomfortably hot and was feeling slightly nauseated from the smell of the smoke of the peat fires, the closeness of so many bodies, and the strong odor of fish. She started to leave, but Sturm detained her with a look, and Laurana sat back down.
Harald had been extremely astonished at Derek’s statement about laying siege to Ice Wall Castle. Frowning, the chief turned his gaze on Sturm. He sat patiently under the chief’s scrutiny, waiting for him to speak.
“Crazy, is he?” Harald said.
“No, Chieftain,” Sturm returned, startled by the comment. “Derek Crownguard is a high-ranking member of our knighthood. He has traveled a great distance on his quest for this dragon orb.”
Harald grunted. “He talks of raising armies, of going to Ice Wall Castle to attack the wizard where he lairs. My warriors do not lay siege to castles. We will fight, if we are attacked. If we are outnumbered, we have our swift boats to carry us across the ice and away from danger.”
Harald eyed Sturm curiously. “You’re a knight, aren’t you?” The chief pointed at Sturm’s long mustaches. “You travel in the company of knights. Why aren’t you with them, making plans or whatever it is they are doing?”
“I am not one of their party, sir,” said Sturm, avoiding the question of whether he was or was not a knight. “My friends and I met up with Derek and his fellow knights in Tarsis. The city was attacked and destroyed by the dragonarmy, and we barely escaped with our lives. We thought it prudent to travel together.”
Harald scratched his beard. “Tarsis destroyed, you say?”
Sturm nodded.
“I had not realized this war you spoke of was so close to Icereach. What about Rigitt?” Harald looked worried. “Our boats sail those waters. We take our fish to their markets.”
“The city had not been attacked when last we saw it,” Sturm replied. “I believe that for the moment Rigitt will be safe. The dragonarmies extended their reach too far when they attacked Tarsis and were forced to withdraw. But if Feal-Thas grows in strength here in Ice Wall, he can provide the protection the armies of darkness need to maintain their supply lines and Rigitt will fall, as will many other cities along the coastline. Then the darkness will cover all of Ansalon.”
Harald was perplexed by this. “Feal-Thas is not alone in his evil ambitions? There are others?”
“Your priest is right,” Laurana told him. “The white dragon was a portent. Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, has returned and brought with her evil dragons. She has raised armies of darkness. She seeks to conquer and enslave the world.”
The other Ice Folk in the tent had stopped their work and were listening silently, their faces expressionless.
“A man sees the darkness coming and he fears only for himself,” Harald remarked. “He never thinks of others.”
“And if he does think of others, too often he says, ‘Let them fend for themselves’,” Laurana added sadly.
She was thinking of the dwarves of Thorbardin, who had decided to fight the dragonarmies but had refused to do so in the company of humans and elves. Gilthanas was here to obtain the dragon orb for the elves, to make certain the humans did not take it. If Derek and the knights were the ones to claim the dragon orb, they would take it for their own.
“I do not see your people coming to help the Ice Folk,” said Harald, bristling. He had mistaken her meaning and was offended.
“We have come—” Sturm began.
Harald snorted. “You would have me believe you came all this distance to fight for the Ice Folk? The kender says you are here seeking some sort of dragon something.”
“A dragon orb. It is a powerful magical artifact. Feal-Thas is rumored to have it in his possession. It is true the knights have come seeking the orb, but if Feal-Thas is killed, that would benefit your people as well.”
“What of the wizard who will come after him?” Harald asked. “Or will you and this dragon orb stay here in Icereach to help us fight the next evil?”
Sturm seemed as if he was about to say something more. He let the words go in a sigh and lowered his gaze, stared down at his hands that were unconsciously smoothing and stroking the white fur sleeve of his coat.
Harald eyed Sturm and frowned. “You have the look of a man who has eaten bad eel.”
“As to fighting Feal-Thas,” said Sturm, “you may have no choice, sir. The draconians got a good look at us. They must have recognized us for Solamnic knights. They will report back to the wizard, who will wonder what Solamnics are doing so far from home. You say his wolf-scouts are watching your camp. They will tell him you have taken us in—”
“—and Feal-Thas will bring war down on us whether we want it or not,” Harald finished. He glared at Sturm and growled, “This is a fine kettle of fish!”
“I am sorry, sir,” Laurana said, guilt-stricken. “I did not realize we might be putting your people in danger! Sturm, isn’t there something we can do? We could leave—” She stood up, as though prepared to depart on the instant.
“I’m sure Derek and the others are making plans for this now,” said Sturm.
“I’m not,” Flint muttered into his beard.
Harald drew in a breath, but his words were interrupted. The old man, the priest Raggart, came hobbling into the chieftent, accompanied by Elistan. Everyone in the tent rose in respect, including Harald. Raggart walked up to Harald. There were tears in the old man’s eyes.
“I have joyful news,” said Raggart, speaking Common out of deference to the strangers. “The gods are with us once more. This man is a cleric of Paladine. At his suggestion, I prayed to the Fisher God, and he answered my prayers.” The old man touched a medallion similar to Elistan’s, but graced with the symbol of the god known as Habakkuk to some, the Fisher God to the Ice Folk.
Harald clasped Raggart’s hand and said something in low tones to the old man in their own language. The chief turned to Sturm.
“It seems you bring death in one hand and life in the other, sir. What are we to do?”
“I’m sure Derek will tell us,” Sturm said dryly.
8
Midnight prayers in the Dark Abbey
Kitiara spent some time searching the storeroom prison for something she could use as a weapon. This was a thankless task, considering she had been left in total darkness. The bozak had inspected the room before locking her in here, and she herself had looked around swiftly before he took the light, and she had not seen anything. Still, she had nothing else to do except think about her upcoming demise, and anything was better than that. She stumbled over crates and stubbed her toes on barrels, scraped her hand on a bent nail, and bumped her head walking into a wall, eventually coming up with a weapon—of sorts.