4

The open ooor.

Flight into darkness.

Raistlin sat down on the hearth, rubbing his thin hands in the warmth of the small fire. His golden eyes seemed brighter than the flames as he stared intently at the blue crystal staff resting across the woman's lap.

"What do you think?" asked Tanis.

"If she's a charlatan, she's a good one," Raistlin commented thoughtfully.

"Worm! You dare to call the Chieftain's Daughter charlatan!" The tall barbarian stepped toward Raistlin, his dark, brows contracted in a vicious scowl. Caramon made a low, rumbling sound in his throat and moved from the window to stand behind his brother.

"Riverwind . . ." The woman laid her hand on the man's arm as he drew near her chair. "Please. He meant no harm. It is right that they do not trust us. They do not know us."

"And we do not know them," the man growled.

"If I might examine it?" Raistlin said.

Goldmoon nodded and held out the staff. The mage stretched out his long, bony arm, his thin hands grasping for it eagerly. As Raistlin touched the staff, however, there was a bright flash of blue light and a crackling sound. The mage jerked his hand back, crying out in pain and shock. Caramon jumped forward, but his brother stopped him.

"No, Caramon," Raistlin whispered hoarsely, wringing his injured hand. "The lady had nothing to do with that."

The woman, indeed, was staring at the staff in amazement.

"What is it then?" Tanis asked in exasperation. "A staff that heals and injures at the same time?"

"It merely knows its own." Raistlin licked his lips, his eyes glittering. "Watch. Caramon, take the staff."

"Not me!" The warrior drew back as if from a snake.

"Take the staff!" Raistlin demanded.

Reluctantly, Caramon stretched out a trembling hand. His arm twitched as his fingers came closer and closer. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth in anticipation of pain, he touched the staff. Nothing happened. Caramon opened his eyes wide, startled. He gripped the staff, lifted it in his huge hand, and grinned.

"See there." Raistlin gestured like an illusionist showing off a trick to the crowd. "Only those of simple goodness, pure in heart"-his sarcasm was biting-"may touch the staff. It is truly a sacred staff of healing, blessed by some god. It is not magic. No magic objects that I have ever heard about have healing powers."

"Hush!" ordered Tasslehoff, who had taken Caramon's place by the window. "The Theocrat's guards!" he warned softly.

No one spoke. Now they could all hear goblin footsteps flapping on the bridge-walks that ran among the branches of the vallenwood trees.

"They're conducting a house-to-house search!" Tanis whispered increduously, listening to fists banging on a neighboring door.

"The Seekers demand right of entry!" croaked a voice. There was a pause, then the same voice said, "No one home, do we kick the door in?"

"Naw," said another voice. "We better just report to the Theocrat, let him kick the door down. Now if it was unlocked, that'd be different -we're allowed to enter then."

Tanis looked at the door opposite him. He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He could have sworn they had shut and bolted the door . . . now it stood slightly open!

"The door!" he whispered. "Caramon-"

But the warrior had already moved over to stand behind the door, his back to the wall, his giant hands flexing.

The footsteps flapped to a stop outside. "The Seekers demand right of entry." The goblins began to bang on the door, then stopped in surprise as it swung open.

"This place is empty," said one. "Let's move on."

"You got no imagination, Grum," said the other. "Here's our chance to pick up a few pieces of silver."

A goblin head appeared around the open door. Its eyes focused on Raistlin, sitting calmly, his staff on his shoulder. The goblin grunted in alarm, then began to laugh.

"Oh, ho! Look what we've found! A staff!" The goblin's eyes gleamed. It took a step toward Raistlin, its partner crowding close behind. "Hand me that staff!"

"Certainly," the mage whispered. He held his own staff forth. "Shirak" he said. The crystal ball flared into light. The goblins shrieked and shut their eyes, fumbling for their swords. At that moment, Caramon jumped from behind the door, grabbed the goblins around their necks, and swept their heads together with a sickening thud. The goblin bodies crumpled into a stinking heap.

"Dead?" asked Tanis as Caramon bent over them, examining them by the light of Raistlin's staff.

"I'm afraid so." The big man sighed. "I hit them too hard."

"Well, that's torn it," Tanis said grimly. "We've murdered two more of the Theocrat's guards. He'll have the town up in arms. Now we can't just lie low for a few days-we've got to get out of here! And you two"-he turned to the barbarians-"had better come with us."

"Wherever we're going," muttered Flint irritably.

"Where were you headed?" Tanis asked Riverwind.

"We were traveling to Haven," the barbarian answered reluctantly.

"There are wise men there," Goldmoon said. "We hoped they could tell us about this staff. You see, the song I sang-it was true, the staff saved our lives.-"

"You'll have to tell us later," Tanis interrupted. "When these guards don't report back, every goblin in Solace will be swarming up the trees. Raistlin, put out that light."

The mage spoke another word, "Dumak" The crystal glimmered, then the light died.

"What'll we do with the bodies?" Caramon asked, nudging a dead goblin with his booted foot. "And what about Tika? Won't she get into trouble?"

"Leave the bodies." Tanis's mind was working quickly. "And hack up the door. Sturm, knock over a few tables. We'll make it look as if we broke in here and got into a fight with these fellows. That way, Tika shouldn't be in too much trouble. She's a smart girl-she'll manage."

"We'll need food," Tasslehoff stated. He ran into the kitchen and began rummaging through the shelves, stuffing loaves of bread and anything else that looked edible into his pouches. He tossed Flint a full skin of wine. Sturm overturned a few chairs. Caramon arranged the bodies to make it look as if they had died in a ferocious battle. The Plainsmen stood in front of the dying fire, looking at Tanis uncertainly.

"Well?" said Sturm. "Now what? Where are we going?"

Tanis hesitated, running over the options in his mind. The Plainsmen had come from the east and-if their story was true and their tribe had been trying to kill them-they wouldn't want to go back that way. The group could travel south, into the elven kingdom, but Tanis felt a strange reluctance to go back to his homelands. He knew, too, that the elves would not be pleased to see these strangers enter in their hidden city.

"We will travel north," he said finally. "We will escort these two until we come to the crossroads, then we can decide what to do from there. They can go on southwest to Haven, if they wish. I plan to travel farther north and see if the rumors about armies gathering are true."

"And perhaps run into Kitiara," Raistlin whispered slyly.

Tanis flushed. "Is that plan all right?" he asked, looking around.

"Though not the eldest among us, Tanis, you are the wisest," Sturm said. "We follow you-as always."

Caramon nodded. Raistlin was already heading for the door. Flint shouldered the wine skin, grumbling.

Tanis felt a gentle hand touch his arm. He turned and looked down into the clear blue eyes of the beautiful barbarian.

"We are grateful," Goldmoon said slowly, as if unused to expressing appreciation. "You risk your lives for us, and we are strangers."

Tanis smiled and clasped her hand. "I am Tanis. The brothers are Caramon and Raistlin. The knight is Sturm Brightblade. Flint Fireforge carries the wine and Tasslehoff Burrfoot is our clever locksmith. You are Goldmoon and he is Riverwind. There-we are strangers no longer."

Goldmoon smiled wearily. She patted Tanis's arm, then started out the door, leaning on the staff that once again seemed plain and nondescript. Tanis watched her, then glanced up to see Riverwind staring at him, the barbarian's dark face an impenetrable mask.

"Well," Tanis amended silently. "Some of us are no longer strangers."

Soon everyone had gone, Tas leading the way. Tanis stood alone for a moment in the wrecked living room, staring at the bodies of the goblins. This was supposed to have been a peaceful homecoming after bitter years of solitary travel. He thought of his comfortable house. He thought of all the things he had planned to do-things he had planned to do together with Kitiara. He thought of long winter nights, with storytelling around the fire at the Inn, then returning home, laughing together beneath the fur blankets, sleeping through the snow-covered mornings.

Tanis kicked at the smoldering coals, scattering them. Kitiara had not come back. Goblins had invaded his quiet town. He was fleeing into the night to escape a bunch of religious fanatics, with every likelihood he could never return. Elves do not notice the passage of time. They live for hundreds of years. For them, the seasons pass like brief rain showers. But Tanis was half human. He sensed change coming, felt the disquieting restlessness men feel before a thunderstorm. He sighed and shook his head. Then he went out the shattered door, leaving it swinging crazily on one hinge.