Read Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun Online
Authors: Margaret Weis
a powerful magical artifact, perhaps the most powerful yet dis-
covered in this world."
"Perhaps." Medan was noncommittal. He had a very low
opinion of mages and magic. "Where is this powerful artifact
now?"
"I do not know for certain," said the elf. "His letter to my
mistress said that the kender had run off with the artifact. Majere
believes the kender has gone to the Citadel of Light. He travels
there to attempt to recover it."
" At least he did not come back here," Medan said, breathing
a sigh of relief. "Good riddance to him and the blasted artifact."
"This information is worth a great deal," the elf said.
"You will be paid. But in the morning," Medan said. "Now be
gone before your mistress misses you."
"She will not." The elf sounded smug. "She sleeps soundly.
Very soundly. I laced her evening tea with poppy juice."
"I told you to leave," Medan said coldly. "I will deduct a steel
piece for every second you remain in my presence. You have lost
one already."
He heard a scrabbling sound in the bushes. The marshal
waited a moment longer, to be certain the elf was gone. The moon
disappeared behind a cloud. The garden was submerged in dark-
ness. The pale glowing orchid vanished from his sight.
It seemed a sign. A portent.
"Only a matter of time," he said to himself. "Days, maybe.
Not longer. This night I have made my decision. I have chosen my
course. I can do nothing now but wait."
His pleasure in the night destroyed, the marshal returned to
his house, forced to fumble his way through the darkness for he
could no longer see the path.
CHAPTER TWENTYSIX
PAWN TO KINGS KNIGHT FOUR
This day, Gerard would meet with Marshal Medan and be
coerced into serving the commander of the Knights of
Neraka. This day, Laurana would discover that she har-
bored a spy, perhaps in her own home. This day, Tasslehoff would
discover that it is difficult to live up to what people say about you
after you are dead. This day, Mina's army would march deeper
into Silvanesti. This day, Silvanoshei was playing a game with his
cousin.
Silvanoshei was king of the Silvanesti. He was king of his
people, just like the bejeweled and ornately carved bit of alabaster
who was king of the xadrez board. A silly, ineffectual king, who
could only move a single square at a time. A king who had to be
protected by his knights and his ministers. Even his pawns had
more important work to do than the king.
"My queen takes your rook," said Kiryn, sliding an ornate
game piece across the green-and-white marble board. "Your king
is doomed. This gives me the game, I think."
"Blast! So it does!" Silvan gave the board an irritated shove,
scattering the pieces. "I used to be quite good at xadrez. My
mother taught me to play. I could even beat Samar on occasion.
You are a far worse player than he was. No offense, Cousin."
"None taken," said Kiryn, crawling on the floor to retrieve a
foot soldier who had fled the field and taken refuge underneath
the bed. "You are preoccupied, that is all. You're not giving the
game your complete concentration."
"Here, let me do that," Silvan offered, remorseful. "I was the
one who spilled them."
'I can manage-" Kiryn began.
"No, let me do something constructive, at least!" Silvan dived
under the table to come up with a knight, a wizard and, after
some searching, his beleaguered king, who had sought to escape
defeat by hiding behind a curtain.
Silvan retrieved all the pieces, set the board up again.
"Do you want to play another?"
"No, I am sick to death of this game!" Silvan said irritably.
Leaving the gaming table, he walked to the window, stared
out it for a few moments, then, restless, he turned away again.
"You say I am preoccupied, Cousin. I don't know by what. I don't
do anything."
He wandered over to a side table on which stood bowls of
chilled fruit, nuts, cheese, and a decanter of wine. Cracking nuts,
as if he had some grudge against them, he sorted through the
shells to find the meats. "Want some?"
Kiryn shook his head. Silvan tossed the shells onto the table,
wiped them from his hand.
"I hate nuts!" he said and walked back across the room to the
window. "How long have I been king?" he asked.
"Some weeks, Cousin-"
"And during that time, what have I accomplished?"
"It is early days, yet, Cousin-"
"Nothing," Silvan said emphatically. "Not a damn thing. I am
not allowed out of the palace for fear I will catch this wasting dis-
ease. I am not permitted to speak to my people for fear of assassins.
I sign my name to orders and edicts, but I'm never permitted to
read them for fear it will fatigue me. Your uncle does all the work."
"He will continue to do it so long as you let him," Kiryn said
pointedly. "He and Glaucous."
"Glaucous!" Silvan repeated. Turning, he eyed his friend sus-
piciously. "You are always on me about Glaucous. I'll have you
know that if it were not for Glaucous, I would not know the little
I do know about what is happening in my very own kingdom.
Look! Look there: now!" Silvan pointed out the window. "Here is
an example of what I mean. Something is happening. Something
is going on, and will I hear what it is? I will"-Silvan was bit-
ter-"but only if I ask my servants!"
A man dressed in the garb of one of the kirath could be seen
running pell-mell across the broad courtyard with its walkways
and gardens that surrounded the palace. Once the elaborate gar-
dens had been a favorite place for the citizens of Silvanost to
walk, to meet, to have luncheons on the broad green swards be-
neath the willow trees. Lovers took boats fashioned in the shape
of swans out upon the sparkling streams that ran through the
garden. Students came with their masters to sit upon the grass
and indulge in the philosophical discussions so dear to elves.
That was before the wasting sickness had come to Silvanost.
Now many people were afraid to leave their homes, afraid to
meet in groups, lest they catch the sickness. The gardens were
almost empty, except for a few members of the military, who had
just come off-duty and were returning to their barracks. The sol-
diers looked in astonishment at the racing kirath, stood aside to
let him pass. He paid no heed to them but hurried onward. He
ran up the broad marble stairs that led to the palace and vanished
from sight.
"There! What did I tell you, Kiryn? Something important has
happened," said Silvan, gnawing his lower lip. "And will the
messenger come to me? No, he will go straight to your uncle. I am
king, not General Konnal!"
Silvan turned from the window, his expression dark and grim.
"I am becoming what I most detest. I am becoming my cousin
Gilthas. A puppet dancing on another's strings!"
"If you are a puppet, Silvan, then that is because you want to
be a puppet," Kiryn said boldly. "The fault is yours, not my
uncle's! You have shown no interest in the day-to-day business of
the kingdom. You could have read those edicts, but you were too
busy learning the newest dance steps."
Silvan looked at him, anger flaring. "How dare you speak to
me like that. I am your-" He check~d himself. He had been
about to say, "your king!" but realized that in view of the conver-
sation, that would sound ridiculous.
Besides, he admitted, Kiryn had spoken nothing more than
the truth. Silvan had enjoyed playing at being king. He wore the
crown upon his head, but he would not take up the mantle of re-
sponsibility and drape it around his shoulders. He drew in a deep
breath, let it out. He had behaved like a child, and so he had been
treated like a child. But no more.
"You are right, Cousin," Silvan said, his tone calm and even.
"If your uncle has no respect for me, why should he? What have
I done since I came here but skulk about in my room playing
games and eating sweets. Respect must be earned. It cannot be
dictated. I have done nothing to earn his regard. I have done
nothing to prove to him and to my people that I am king. That
ends. Today."
Silvan threw open the huge double doors that led to his cham-
bers, threw them open with such force that they banged back against
the walls. The sound startled the guards, who had been dozing on
their feet in the quiet, drowsy afternoon. They clattered to attention
as Silvan strode out the door and walked right past them.
"Your Majesty!" cried one. "Where are you goin~? Your
Majesty, you should not be leaving your room. General- Konnal
has ordered. . . Your Majesty!" The guard found he was speaking
to the king's back.
Silvan descended the long, broad marble staircase, walking
rapidly, with Kiryn at his heels and the guards hastening along
behind.
"Silvan!" Kiryn remonstrated, catching up, "I didn't intend
that you should take charge this very moment. You have much to
learn about Silvanesti and its people. You've never lived among
us. You are very young."
Silvan had understood his cousin's intentions quite well: He
paid him no heed, but kept walking.
"What I meant," Kiryn continued, dogging Silvan's footsteps,
"was that you should take more interest in the daily business of
the kingdom, ask questions. Visit the people in their homes. See
how we live. There are many of the wise among our people who
would be glad to help you learn. Rolan of the kirath is one. Why
not seek his advice and counsel? You would find him far wiser
than Glaucous, if less pleasing."
Silvan's lips tightened. He walked on. "I know what I am
doing," he said.
"Yes, and so did your Grandfather Lorac. Listen to me,
Silvan," Kiryn said earnestly. "Don't make the same mistake.
Your grandfather's downfall was not the dragon Cyan Blood-
bane. Pride and fear were Lorac's downfall. The dragon was the
embodiment of his pride and his fear. Pride whispered to Lorac
that he was wiser than the wise. Pride whispered that he could
flout rules and laws. Fear urged him to act alone, to refuse help,
to turn a deaf ear to advice and counsel."
Silvanoshei halted. "All my life, Cousin, I've heard that side
of the story, and I have accepted it. I have been taught to be
ashamed of my grandfather. But in recent days I've heard another
side, a side no one mentions because they find it easy to blame
my grandfather for their troubles. The Silvanesti people survived
the War of the Lance. They are alive today because of my grandfa-
ther. If he had not sacrificed himself as he did, you and I would
not be standing here discussing the matter. The welfare of the
people was Lorac's responsibility. He accepted that responsibility.
He saved them, and now instead of being blessed by them he is
denigrated!"
"Who told you this, Cousin?" Kiryn asked.
Silvan saw no reason to answer this, and so he turned on his
heel and continued walking. Glaucous had known his grandfa-
ther. He had been very close to Lorac. Who would know better
the truth of the matter?
Kiryn guessed the name Silvan did not speak. He walked a
few paces behind his king, said no more.
Silvan and his oddly assorted escort, consisting of his cousin
and the clamoring guards, strode rapidly through the corridors of
the palace. Silvan passed by magnificent paintings and wondrous
tapestries without a glance. His boots rang loudly on the floor, ex-
pressive of his haste and his determination. Accustomed only to
silence in this part of the palace, the servants came running to see
what was amiss.
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty," they murmured, bowing in
fluttered confusion and looking at each other askance when he
had gone by, as much as to say, "The bird has flown the cage. The
rabbit has escaped the warren. Well, well. Not surprising, consid-
ering that he is a Caladon."
The king left the royal quarters of the palace, entered the
public areas, which were crowded with people: messengers
coming and going, lords and ladies of House Royal standing in
clusters talking among themselves, people bustling about with
ledgers under their arms or scrolls in their hands. Here was the
true heart of the kingdom. Here the business of the kingdom was
accomplished. Here-on the side of the palace opposite the royal
quarters where Silvan resided.
The courtiers heard the commotion, paused and turned to see
what was going on, and when they saw it was their king, they
were astonished. So astonished that some lords forgot to bow, re-
membered only belatedly and then because scandalized wives
poked them in the ribs.
Silvan noted the differ~ce between the two sides of the
palace immediately. His lips tightened. He ignored the courtiers
and brushed aside those who tried to speak. Rounding a comer,
he approached another set of double doors. Guards stood here,