Huma looked perplexed. “I made no mention of that.”
The Grand Master smiled knowingly. “I am a student of old lore, Huma, which is one reason I believed in you all along. If this smith is as you described him, he must be bearing a hammer that was forged by Reorx himself. I am thankful that our ancient records are true after all and you have lived to bring the weapon to us.”
Something had been building up inside Huma and he finally stood. “Milord, I beg of you. I appreciate all you have been saying and I know there was much you had to hear, but we now have the Dragonlances and I must ask of you a favor. There are twenty lances that may be utilized in the heavens. Give me but one lance and let me fly to the domain of Galan Dracos and his dark mistress. I must free Magius!”
“Knight Huma.” The Grand Master’s voice was toneless, frighteningly akin to Rennard’s. Lord Oswal stared at him until Huma sat. “One man or woman, be they companion, lover, or blood kin, is not worth the lives of hundreds—and I say that even if I were that one. You may disagree with me, and that is your prerogative—in private. We are fighting for the existence of all Solamnia, of all Ansalon if not Krynn itself. I cannot condone your idea.”
“He was taken defending the lances.” Huma’s bitterness began to show.
“I understand that, Knight Huma, as I understand the dangers to you that I think you do not. My answer remains the same. Understood?”
Huma said nothing.
“Now, then, you have twenty-one lances, one of which is designed for a footsoldier, you said.”
“Yes.”
“Twenty lances are hardly sufficient. We were fortunate this time, in that the dragons did not expect you, and your sudden appearance threw them into confusion.”
“They fled with their tails between their legs,” remarked Kaz smugly.
“This time. When next they come—and do not believe they will not—they will act with more cunning and more confidence, and four lances, let alone twenty, will not prevail.”
“You are claiming the fight is lost already. This is not what I expected to hear from the Grand Master of the Knights of Solamnia,” Lord Avondale commented.
The Grand Master ignored the look of disdain on the Ergothian’s face and kept his gaze fixed on Huma. “While some may see this as accepting defeat, it is only because they have not bothered to wait and hear. What we need to do is clear the smithy of all else and create, as accurately as possible, lances as near in quality to the originals as we can.”
Guy Avondale’s eyes narrowed, and a thin smile played across his lips. Kaz and Buoron exchanged looks of puzzlement. Huma hesitated, then saw where the elder knight was leading.
“A ploy! We’re going to ensnare them with a great bluff!”
Lord Oswal smiled, an edge in his gaze. “A bluff. Exactly. We already have the setup for creating ordinary lances. Now we shall make as many faithful forgeries of the Dragonlances as possible.”
“How long will all this take?” asked Avondale. “As you yourself have indicated, it will not be long before they return.”
“Metalworking in most of its forms is an art with us, commander. It is part of the secret of our success. Shoddy weaponry and protection make for shoddy armies—a paraphrasing of something in the Measure. Given two days, we will have more than a hundred lances. They will be, as I said, copies, forgeries of the true Dragonlances. The word has no doubt spread as to the cause of the rout. When next we face them, I hope to have at least a hundred lances ready. When the Dragons of Takhisis come, they will find themselves facing a veritable cavalry charge. The element of surprise will be ours. I am hoping that a hundred lances, supposedly actual Dragonlances, will cause a new panic. With the dragons at bay, our own forces will advance and meet the ogres.”
“This is more than a bluff. You intend to win, Dragonlances or not. It is an interesting plan. You have faith in it? Truly?”
“As a cleric of Paladine, you should know. Besides, it is not so much the plan I have faith in as it is in my men. We are, after all. Knights of Solamnia.”
“Huma.”
He had been walking alone, trying to sort out all that was happening. Magius, the Dragonlances, Galan Dracos, Gwyneth—
“Huma?”
He whirled. She was there in the shadows of the stable. She was clad in a flowing robe of silver-blue, her slim form partially revealed as she walked toward him. Huma could only gape.
“Gwyneth?”
She smiled. “You expect someone else?”
“No!”
“I wanted to come to you earlier, but it wasn’t possible. There are—some things—I must sort out. I hope you don’t mind if I walk with you, though.”
“No. Not at all.”
Gwyneth took his arm, and the two walked slowly around the courtyard. It was the first nearly clear night that Huma could recall. There were even patches of actual sky, as if the cloud cover at last were breaking up. Huma knew better than to hope it would vanish. Only one thing would bring that about: total defeat of the Dragonqueen.
It took him some time to build up the nerve, but at last Huma asked, “How did you get here?”
She turned her face from him. “Please don’t ask that now. I promise I’ll tell you soon.”
“Very well. I’m just glad to see you.”
That made her turn back. “I’m glad of that. It makes everything worthwhile.” Gwyneth’s expression suddenly darkened again. “I heard something about you wanting to go after Magius by yourself.”
“The Grand Master forbids it.”
“What will you do?”
“I obey the Grand Master. It’s my duty.”
They were silent after that. Gwyneth had rested one hand on Huma’s arm and, as they walked, he was astonished at the strength in that hand. There was so much he did not know about her, including her connection with the Dragonlance. She must be a cleric, he decided, but of which god he was not sure.
Gwyneth suddenly stared ahead and stiffened. Huma followed her gaze and caught sight of an unfamiliar male of approximately his own age. The man was dressed like a villager—they had come straggling in to Vingaard Keep just before the war reached their homes—but his stance was not like one of them. The face was fairly well hidden by shadow, but Huma could have sworn that the eyes blazed. After glancing at both of them, the stranger disappeared around a corner.
“Who is that?” Huma’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. If someone stalked Gwyneth . . .
“No one,” she replied, much too quickly. Gwyneth disengaged herself from Huma’s arm. “I have to leave now. I’ll see you again later, I promise.”
She turned the way they had come, and hurried away. Huma thought to follow her, but she was out of sight almost instantly. The knight blinked; he could not recall when or where she had turned.
Reaction to the Dragonlances was not what Huma and the others had expected.
He had offered to demonstrate the methods and uses of the Dragonlance. To his amazement, only a handful of knights came to see him. One of them revealed the reason for the astonishing apathy among his brethren. Huma, stunned, told the others what the knight had said and how widespread those feelings were among the knighthood.
“The time for miracles is past. They will not accept the magic of the lances, and who can blame them? We are asking them to risk their lives uselessly as far as they are concerned. Those who ride with the true Dragonlances will bear the brunt of the assault and then attempt to break through and strike at the heart of evil, Galan Dracos and his infernal mistress. But suicide is against the Oath and Measure. And few have the true faith in Paladine where this is concerned. I was told a few believe I created the lances myself. They want to know why they should risk their lives so needlessly when they could be here, with their comrades, fighting a definite foe on more equal terms. Fighting dragons is one thing; facing the Dragonqueen herself is folly. That message was relayed to me more than once.”