About the Author
Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman published their first novel in the Dragonlance Chronicles series, Dragons of Autumn Twilight, in 1984. More than thirty-five years later, they have collaborated on over thirty novels set in many different fantasy worlds, including the recent Classic Dragonlance titles Dragons of Deceit and Dragons of Fate. Hickman is currently creating new realms of adventure on the cutting edge of global entertainment. Weis and Hickman are working on future novels in the Dragonlance series.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Tanis Half-Elven arrived at the Inn of the Last Home in the morning just before noon. He had flown on griffinback through a storm, and although he was wet and chilled, he looked about with pleasure. Autumn was his favorite time of year to visit Solace, when the vallenwood trees burned with golden flame. Even now, when dark clouds filled the sky and a steady rain seemed to try its best to quench the fire, the trees still brightened the dreary day.
Tanis had traveled from Palanthas, where he and his wife, Laurana, were trying to arrange a meeting of the Whitestone Council. Tanis was glad to be able to leave, get away from the talking and arguing, scheming and bargaining. The work he and Laurana were doing was good and would mean peace for Ansalon for many years. But the talks were tedious, frustrating, and slow-going.
The free people of Ansalon—humans, elves, and dwarves—were represented on the Whitestone Council: an alliance that was credited with winning the War of the Lance. When the war had ended, the council had disbanded. But now minor disputes among the races were threatening the peace. The dwarves of Thorbardin wanted new trading agreements with the humans and were threatening to close the mountain if they didn’t get them. The governments of Northern and Southern Ergoth were demanding tariffs on goods entering their countries. The Silvanesti complained of minotaur raiders from Mithas, while the Qualinesti were angered over humans encroaching on their lands.
To address these concerns, the Solamnic knights had proposed that the Whitestone Council be called back into session.
Laurana had been the leader of the Whitestone Forces during the war, and now she represented the elven nations in the negotiations. The Lord Mayor of Palanthas led the Solamnic delegation. The hill dwarves and the mountain dwarves both sent representatives, as did the gnomes and the Ergothians. The kender of Kendermore were represented by their energetic and intelligent young leader, Balif the Second, who claimed to be a descendant of the great kender military hero.
Tanis had no formal role in the proceedings, but all the parties respected him, and he was occasionally called upon to act as mediator if the discussions grew contentious. He was thankful he did not have a formal role, for this meant he could slip away from the meetings to pay a visit to his friends Tika and Caramon, to congratulate them on the birth of their second child.
He was soaked through and dispirited by the time he reached the inn, but the familiar surroundings lifted his spirits. The inn was warm and crowded and noisy. Tika greeted him with a smile and scolded him for traveling through the storm. She took his cloak to dry by the fire, then led him to his usual table, which was located near the bar so that Caramon could join in the conversation while he worked.
Tika and her husband, Caramon, were the inn’s proprietors, and she waited on customers while her husband reigned over the bar.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Tanis asked, seeing her carrying four plates of spiced potatoes, balancing two on her forearms and holding one in each hand. “You just gave birth!”
“I had a baby, not the plague,” said Tika. “Young Sturm’s down for his nap or I’d let you meet him.”
She moved among the tables, delivering the plates and mugs of ale, then came back to sit down beside Tanis.
“Any word from Tas?” Tanis asked.
“No,” said Tika, sighing. “I miss him. I’d give most of the spoons to have him back. I’m sick at heart with worry that something has happened to him. I never did trust that woman!”
“What woman?” Tanis asked, unable to follow the leap in Tika’s conversation.
“That Rosebush woman,” said Tika. “Wearing that horrid, ugly gem around her neck.”
“Destina Rosethorn,” Caramon called from behind the bar. “You sent us that letter telling us about how you met with Astinus and found out that Destina had gone back in time to the Third Dragon War and taken Raistlin and Sturm and Tas with her.”
“You’ve heard nothing of them since?” Tika asked.
“I haven’t,” said Tanis. “Truth to tell, I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t thought about it. I guess I assumed that since I hadn’t heard anything, all was well and everyone had come back safely.”
Tika shook her head. “We haven’t seen hide nor hair of Tas, and you know he would have come here to tell us his adventures.”
“True,” said Tanis, troubled.
“I’ll go see if your food’s ready,” Tika said, rising.
She returned with a full plate and set it down in front of him.
“Otik’s spiced potatoes—crispy, just the way you like them. Do you need anything else?” Tika asked.
“You were going to bring me a mug of ale . . .” Tanis reminded her.
“So I was!” said Tika, sighing. “I’m that worried, it slipped my mind. Maybe it’s the gloomy day, but I feel like trouble’s coming. Terrible trouble, and I don’t know what or why. I’ll fetch the ale.”
Caramon handed the mug to Tika, who carried it back to Tanis. She was starting to sit down when a customer spoke up from the back. “Tika, I ordered the chicken stew and you brought me potatoes—”
“And you’ll eat potatoes and like it, Hal Miller!” Tika shouted.
“Yes, Tika,” Miller said meekly and began shoveling potatoes into his mouth.
Caramon silently brought a plate of stew from the kitchen, set it down in front of Miller, and removed the potatoes. Carrying them back to the bar, he picked up his little son Tanin and began to eat the potatoes himself, sharing them with his son.
Tika sighed and looked out the stained glass windows. A group of kender were loitering about outside the inn, laughing and talking, heedless of the rain.
“They’re hoping to be able to sneak inside before I catch them,” said Tika. “Every time I look out, I expect to see Tas with them.”
“How are the negotiations for the new Whitestone Council coming, Tanis?” Caramon asked, changing the subject.
Tanis sighed and shook his head. “We were close to having everything settled, with the elves and knights sharing leadership, when an elf lord suggested adding a minor provision. One of the knights trotted out some obscure passage in the Measure that prohibited it. The hill dwarves sided with the knights, and the mountain dwarves with the elves, and they nearly came to blows. We have spent three days on the matter, and they were still arguing when I left.”
Hearing a baby crying, Tika jumped to her feet. “He’s awake from his nap. I’ll introduce you. You should eat those potatoes before they grow cold.”
Tanis enjoyed the potatoes as he gazed out the window. Solace was located at a crossroads in Abanasinia, and people from all over Ansalon stopped here. Despite the rain, travelers were still arriving at the inn, hastening to find shelter from the storm.
As he watched people hurrying down the road toward the inn, he remembered a time when he would have looked out that window to see the ground far below him. The first proprietor, Otik Sandeth, had built the inn among the branches of an enormous vallenwood tree. Most of the houses in Solace had been built in the treetops to keep them safe from marauders during the lawless years after the Cataclysm.
But the trees had not kept the people safe from the dragons that had attacked Solace during the War of the Lance. The dragons had burned the beautiful trees, but they had not destroyed the inn. It had been lowered to the ground and survived more or less intact. The trees had grown back to their full, magnificent height. Some said the god Paladine had performed this miracle, and there had been talk of hoisting the inn back into the trees, but Tika had refused to allow it. That time had passed, she said, and could never come again. Best to move on.
More customers entered, for today was bread pudding day at the Inn of the Last Home. Tika’s bread pudding in brandy sauce was almost as famous as Otik’s spiced potatoes.
Tika brought the baby to show Tanis, who smiled to see the fuzz of red hair that covered the baby’s head, a match to Tika’s own red curls.
“Meet our little Sturm,” she said. “We thought we would name him after our dear friend.”
“A fitting tribute,” said Tanis.
Tika cradled the baby in one arm and picked up Tanis’s plate. She was heading to the kitchen when she suddenly gasped and dropped the plate on the floor as a column of shimmering air, like waves of heat rising off a sunbaked road, materialized in the center of the inn.
Customers saw it and bounded to their feet in alarm. Some of them ran for the door. Others remained, either too hungry or too curious to depart.
Tanis jumped up from the table, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Caramon handed Tika their older son and stood in front of his family, prepared to defend them.
A door seemed to open in the middle of the shimmering column and an elven wizard wearing black robes stepped through it. Dalamar snapped his fingers and the column disappeared, then he turned to face the patrons.
“Get out! All of you!” he told them.
