Temple of the Dragonslayer (6 page)

Wynda grinned and quickly closed her fingers around the coins, as though she were afraid Davyn might try to snatch them back.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Wynda said.

Davyn nodded. He knew he should have been pleased that meeting Sindri and Catriona hadn’t disrupted the plan. But instead he felt unsettled.

He turned away from the healer and headed for the door. They had best get over to the Blind Goose. Oddvar didn’t like to be kept waiting.

I
’m so excited!” Sindri said as he led his three companions down the street toward the tavern. “I’ve heard of the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars, but now I’m actually going to get to see it!” It turned out that Sindri really knew where the Blind Goose was. He’d spent a number of hours there, listening to the stories, the tall tales, and the outright lies the patrons told.

Nearra laughed. “Is there anything you don’t get excited about?”

Sindri frowned in puzzlement. “I’m a kender,” he said.

“She doesn’t have all her memories,” Catriona reminded Sindri. “She probably doesn’t recall much about kender.”

“Lucky her,” Davyn muttered. Catriona gave the ranger a dark look, but Sindri ignored him.

“That’s right! I forgot!” The kender chuckled. “I accidentally made a joke, didn’t I? I didn’t remember that Nearra couldn’t remember.”

“Some joke,” Davyn said.

Sindri looked suddenly worried. “I meant no offense, Nearra.”

Nearra wanted to say, How would you feel if you didn’t know who you were and where you came from? But she knew the little
kender wouldn’t understand. Instead she smiled. “No offense taken, Sindri.”

“Good. Then let me tell you something about kender. We are extremely curious about everything.”

“And this curiosity results in kender having an almost total lack of fear,” Catriona added. The warrior sounded almost envious.

“You mean a lack of common sense,” Davyn said.

Sindri ignored him. “Our curiosity is strongest when we’re young. Around the age of twenty or so, we go through a stage of our lives known as wanderlust. It came upon me earlier than it does others.” Sindri smiled smugly. “But then I’ve always been advanced for my age. I suspect that accounts for my skill with magic as well.”

Davyn rolled his eyes.

“What do you mean by wanderlust?” Nearra asked.

“Oh! You don’t remember much, do you?” Sindri said. “Wanderlust is a time when young kender are compelled to travel throughout the land seeing and doing as many interesting things as we can. These travels might go on for a number of years before we finally return home and settle down.”

“It sounds to me as if kender have found a way to get the most out of life,” Nearra said. “Travel and adventure when young; home and family when older.”

“If they survive long enough to get old,” Catriona muttered.

Nearra ignored her. “Have you ever seen a dragon in all your travels, Sindri? Slean is the only one I have seen—as far I can remember.”

“I’m sorry to say that I have never come across any of the magnificent beasts,” Sindri said. “I’d love to see one!”

“Speak for yourself,” Catriona said with a shudder.

“Why do you suppose dragons returned to Krynn after all this time?” Nearra said.

“I have heard stories about the War of the Lance,” Catriona said. “Stories of how the Dark Queen Takhisis brought dragonkind back to the world in an attempt to conquer all of Krynn,
and how a group of brave heroes armed with the legendary Dragonlance finally defeated her. As to how much of the story is true and how much is exaggeration, I cannot say.”

“Well, all I can say is that I hope we can find someone at the Blind Goose who not only knows the route to the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars, but who also knows a thing or two about avoiding dragons,” Davyn said.

“Do you think they are as fearsome as the tales say?” Sindri said.

“They’re worse,” Davyn answered, “because they aren’t just stories anymore; they’re
real
. So you’d best hope we don’t see a dragon. That is, if you wish to survive your time of wanderlust.”

Sindri sighed. “I see your point.”

The kender didn’t sound all that convinced to Nearra. But she was more concerned with what Davyn had said: I hope we can find someone at the Blind Goose … You’d best hope we don’t see a dragon.

She looked at Davyn. “Does that mean you’re coming with me to the temple?”

Davyn shrugged. “If you’d like …”

Nearra smiled. “I would. Very much.”

Davyn looked at her for a moment before returning her smile.

“Then I will.”

Nearra had been so involved in the conversation that she hadn’t noticed the street had grown narrow here, the buildings smaller and crowded together, sometimes leaning against one another for support. The gutter overflowed with fruit rinds, spoiled vegetables, picked-clean animal bones, and other disgusting garbage. The companions had to step around animal manure covered with buzzing black flies. The heat from the afternoon sun warmed the manure and the air was thick with a sickening stench.

Nearra stepped carefully as she walked, and clamped a hand over her mouth and nose to shut out the smell. But Sindri inhaled deeply and grinned.

“What a stink! Every time I come here, it smells worse!”

A pack of grubby dwarves walked by. They huddled close together, not speaking, and they cast furtive glances about as they walked, as if constantly alert to the possibility of attack.

“Is it safe here?” Nearra asked, trying not to sound as worried as she felt.

“It is as long as I am at your side,” Catriona said.

“Of course it’s safe,” Sindri said, sounding surprised anyone could think otherwise. “I’ve never had any trouble here.”

“Just like you didn’t have trouble with the minotaur, eh?” Davyn said.

Sindri gave the ranger a dirty look but didn’t say anything.

Near the end of the street, they came to an especially rickety-looking building. Nearra saw a sign hanging over the door. On it was a faded, lopsided painting of a bird that might or might not have been a goose. A black blindfold covered the bird’s eyes.

Nearra pointed. “Is that it?”

Davyn opened his mouth, but then he quickly closed it.

Sindri said, “Yes, that’s the Blind Goose. Let’s go!” The kender started running toward the tavern, but Catriona grabbed a handful of his cape and stopped him.

“Let’s go slowly,” she said. “We don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves than necessary. Especially in a place like that,” she added under her breath.

As they approached the tavern entrance, the window shutters burst into splinters and a man came flying out headfirst. He landed in the street muck with a loud gasp as the air was knocked out of his lungs. The man lay still for a moment, then rose shakily to his feet, groaning with the effort. He staggered down the street, seemingly none the worse for wear.

Catriona looked anxiously at Nearra. “Perhaps you should wait out here while Davyn and I go in and look for a guide.” From the tone of her voice, it sounded as if she would rather not go in at all. “Sindri will watch over you.”

“Do I have to?” the kender whined.

Nearra felt a sudden surge of anger. “What are you saying? That I can’t handle myself in a dangerous situation?” Nearra was at a loss to explain her anger. She knew that Catriona was only looking out for her, but for some reason the idea that the warrior thought she was helpless infuriated Nearra.

“Since awakening in the forest, I’ve encountered goblins, a dragon, and a minotaur, and the day is only half over. If I can deal with all that, surely I can deal with some drunken thugs in a seedy tavern.” Nearra was surprised to hear herself say these things. It was almost as if the words weren’t hers but someone else’s.

“I do not mean to criticize you,” Catriona said, “but in each of those situations you had help. And given your condition, in many ways, you are like an infant that has only been born this morning. Perhaps you can handle yourself in a dangerous situation, but do you know for certain if you can? From what you’ve told us, you had no weapons when you first woke in the forest. Do you remember if you’ve been trained to use any kind of weapon?”

Nearra thought hard, but she could not recall ever having been trained to do
anything
, let alone fight. She didn’t speak. Her silence was enough of an answer.

Catriona nodded. “It’s settled, then. Sindri, stay here with Nearra while Davyn and I go into the tavern.”

Nearra felt her anger building, rising near the boiling point. She balled her hands into fists and they began to tingle and grow warm.

How dare she speak like that to me!
The thought echoed through Nearra’s mind, but it felt alien, as though it belonged to someone else. A woman with a cruel edge to her voice …

Nearra fixed her gaze on Catriona and began to raise her hands …

But then Davyn was standing next to her, gently but firmly pushing her hands back down.

“It’s all right, Nearra,” he said in a soothing voice. “We won’t be long.”

He smiled and Nearra felt the tingling—and her anger—subside. “I’ll wait,” she said.

Davyn nodded, then turned to Catriona. “Let’s go.” Without waiting for Catriona to respond, he started toward the tavern’s entrance.

Catriona scowled. It appeared she didn’t like taking orders, at least not from Davyn. But she followed, and the two of them went inside the Blind Goose.

Sindri sniffed the air. “Does that smell like dead cat to you? Let’s go see!”

A
s they stepped into the tavern, Davyn scanned the room, looking for Oddvar. The Theiwar wouldn’t be expecting him to be accompanied by anyone except Nearra, and Davyn needed to figure out a way to let Oddvar know that the plan was still on track.

The patrons, mostly male and mostly human, sat at tables and chairs made of stained and scratched wood. The dirt floor was smooth and packed down from all the feet that had trod upon it over the years. The room was dark, the only light coming from the window with the now-broken shutters. But the patrons liked it that way. The Blind Goose wasn’t the sort of tavern where people went to be seen—quite the opposite, in fact.

Davyn spotted Oddvar sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. The Theiwar wore the hood of his cloak up, despite the dimness of the room. On the counter before him was a clay mug, most likely filled with the bitter dark ale Oddvar favored. The dwarf sat between two humans—a bald man with a black patch over his left eye, and a slender man with shoulder-length blond hair. A traveler’s pack rested on the floor between the blond man’s feet.

“Let’s go speak with the tavern keeper,” Catriona said.

Since that meant they would have to go over to the bar where
Oddvar was, Davyn nodded. As they began making their way through the crowd, Davyn noticed that more than a few eyes followed their progress—or more accurately, Catriona’s progress. The red-haired warrior was certainly a striking figure—tall, attractive, with an aura of strength and confidence. Davyn wasn’t worried about Catriona; he knew she could take care of herself. But he was glad that Nearra had stayed outside. He knew he shouldn’t feel such a thing but he did. She was nicer than he’d expected, and braver, too. He was impressed by the way she was handling the loss of her memories. If it had been him, he didn’t think he would handle it half as well.

Stop it, he told himself. You’re here to do a job, so do it!

The tavern was crowded, and it took some jostling and elbowing before Davyn and Catriona reached the bar. There were no seats open, so Catriona had to lean in between two customers and say, “Barkeep, I have a question for you.”

The tavern keeper, who was wiping a mug with a filthy rag, looked up. “What do you want?” he said.

“My companions and I seek a guide to the north. The healer Wynda said we might find such a person in your establishment.”

The tavern keeper frowned and glanced toward the end of the bar where Oddvar sat. The Theiwar lifted his index finger off the counter.

The tavern keeper jerked a thumb in Oddvar’s direction. “Try the dwarf.”