The Day of the Tempest

Chapter 12 Kender’s Discovery

Blister heard voices in Jasper’s cabin, the dwarf and a woman talking. Goldmoon? There was something familiar about the woman’s voice. But it wasn’t Usha, who was up on deck seeing off the rest of the refugees—except for Sageth, who had agreed to stay with them. And it definitely wasn’t Feril, who’d left the ship several minutes ago. It wasn’t any of the crew because with Shaon gone there were no other female sailors.

The dwarf’s door was open a crack, or rather not latched, and to the kender it was an invitation to confirm her suspicions. She nudged it wide and slipped inside.

“Goldmoon” she said, pleased that her guess was correct.

“How did you get here?”

Jasper turned, sighed, and rolled his eyes but Blister didn’t see his exasperated expression. She was too busy staring at the woman in the center of the small room. The kender shuffled forward, past the dwarf, and gazed up at the beautiful human face.

Goldmoon floated several inches above the floor. She wore a pale rose cloak draped over her slender shoulders, and her tunic and leggings were the color of sand. The hem of the cloak swirled outward around her sandaled feet, reminding the kender of the glow that spread from the sun setting on ocean waves. Her long blonde hair fluttered about her neck and shoulders as if there were a strong breeze teasing it, but the air was completely still inside the cabin. The kender tentatively reached a gloved hand forward and her fingers passed right through Goldmoon’s knee.

“Oh, you’re not here, not really. Just a magical picture,” Blister said.

The first time the kender had seen Goldmoon, the healer looked well into middle-age, with several streaks of gray hair. That had been hundreds of miles from here and several months ago at the Citadel of Light on the island of Schall-sea. Goldmoon looked a little younger today, and a touch more lively. She had fewer wrinkles, but her eyes were sadder.

“Remember me?” The kender smiled cheerily and waved a gloved hand.

“Blister,” Goldmoon said warmly. “Of course I remember you. It is good to see you again.”

The kender beamed, deepening the wrinkles about her eyes. Jasper grumbled something behind her, then coughed, as if clearing his throat

“I was looking in on Jasper,” Goldmoon explained.

The kender pursed her lips. “Well, the door was open a little bit.” The kender kept her eyes on Goldmoon.

“It wasn’t open,” said Jasper.

“Well, it wasn’t locked. I must have accidentally bumped it open when I was walking by. You know how the ship rocks all the time, even in port, and makes you lose your balance. And since I accidentally opened it, I figured I might as well come inside—just in case Jasper needed to talk to me about something.”

Goldmoon cast an amused glance at the dwarf, who was scowling. “Jasper has been telling me about the fight with the Knights of Takhisis this morning.”

“Did he tell you what a hero I was in the desert? That I helped rescue prisoners? There were elephants and everything.”

She nodded.

“Did he tell you about the old magic we need?”

“I was just getting to that,” Jasper said.

“Palin wants us to get magic from the Age of Sleep.”

“The Age of Dreams,” the dwarf corrected.

“That’s what I meant to say” Blister continued. “Well, Sageth, one of the people I heroically helped rescue from the desert, told us where some of the powerful old stuff can be found. He was kind of cryptic about it, but Palin figured it out. Anyway, we’re going to Southern Ergoth where it’s really cold and snowy. We’re not going now, but as soon as the others get back from rescuing more people, that’s when we’ll go, Feril and Palin and Ulin and Gilthanas.” She paused. “You might not know Ulin and Gilthanas. Feril used to live there—in Southern Ergoth. But she left because of the White and all the snow and cold. It was a good thing she left, because we wouldn’t have met her otherwise. And—”

“Huma’s lance,” the dwarf said simply.

“I was getting to that,” the kender huffed. “That’s what we have to find hi Southern Ergoth. And then we’re going to the Qualinesti forest to look for something there.”

“Provided we’re still alive,” Jasper muttered under his breath.

“But that’s only two, and we need three or four according to what Sageth said. Old magical artifacts, and one of them is around your neck,” the kender concluded.

Jasper smiled weakly at her lack of tact. “Your medallion of faith,” he said. “It’s from the Age of Dreams. And Palm and Sageth think thatty destroying the old artifacts — “

“Enough magic will be released to bring powerful magic back to Krynn,” Blister added

“And then we’ll have an easier time stopping the overlords.” The dwarf was determined to have the last word.

Goldmoon raised an insubstantial hand and ran her fingers across the disk’s surface. It was silver, and hung from a thin silver chain that sparkled like a string of miniature stars. The kender looked at it closely. Engraved on the disk’s surface was a design — the outline of two closed eyes joined, or perhaps two eggs touching at their narrowest ends. It was the symbol of Mishakal, the Healing Hand, the departed goddess whom some called the Light Bringer and whom Goldmoon still worshiped.

‘You might need to use it” Jasper said.

“Yes, but yours is the greater purpose.” Goldmoon’s voice was soft, but intense. “I believe the gods are merely away, watching us from some distant place where Chaos does not see them. I believe they are giving men and women the opportunity to fail or succeed on their own, to find the strength in themselves to overcome whatever obstacles are placed before them.”

The kender listened with rapt attention. “But the dragon overlords — *

“Are one of those obstacles. There are smaller obstacles, too.” Goldmoon’s radiant blue eyes bore into the kender ‘s. “Things each of us must overcome.”

Blister’s glance fell to her gloved hands. “Some things just can’t be overcome.”

“Take off your gloves, Blister.”

Goldmoon’s voice compelled the kender to tug off her soft tan gloves, revealing her crippled hands. Her fingers were bent and scarred, covered with blisters and sores, and she turned her back to Jasper so he couldn’t see them.

“I don’t like the way they look,” the kender explained. “So I keep them covered. And it hurts when I move them.”

“The pain isn’t in your hands, Blister. The pain is in your heart and spirit. That is also an obstacle to be overcome. Look at me and move your fingers. Think about me, Blister, not your hands.”

The kender gritted her teeth and complied, flexing first the fingers of her left hand, then her right. She stared at Gold-moon’s eyes and moved her ringers again, making fists, releasing them, then clenching them tighter. At first she felt a familiar dull ache, but when she prepared herself for the throbbing sensation that would follow, it didn’t come. The ache faded. She balled her fists again. There was no pain now. She looked at Goldmoon, astonished.

The healer seemed different, younger, more full of life. There were no wrinkles, no gray hairs. Her shoulders were straight, her eyes impossibly clear.

“I don’t understand,” the kender said, as she continued to move her hands. She couldn’t find anything else to say, unaccustomed to being at a loss for words.

“You were punishing yourself for a past deed—the thieving expedition in which you fell victim to a magical trap. Your hands were scarred, will forever be scarred, but the physical pain fled you years ago. Have more faith in yourself, Blister. Your faith colors what you feel.”

Faith also colors what you see, the kender said to herself as she continued to stare at the now-vibrant Goldmoon. Before, the kender saw her as middle-aged, and that must have meant her faith was waning. Now she saw the healer differently, signaling a regeneration in the kender’s faith and convictions. Blister’s eyes grew wide.

“We’ll locate Huma’s lance, and whatever it is we’re supposed to find in the forest. And some ring—Dalamar’s. I just know we can do it.”

Goldmoon smiled softly. “And when you visit with me at Schallsea, Blister, I will give you my medallion. Until we meet there…” Her image faltered. The magical breeze picked up, and blew Goldmoon away.

“Wow,” the kender said, “I gotta tell Usha and Rig. Jasper, you’ll have to tell Groller. I haven’t figured out those hand signals yet, but I can now.” Blister spun on the balls of her feet, sidestepped Jasper, and hurried from his cabin.

Her gloves lay on the floor, forgotten and no longer needed.

Goldmoon walked down the twisting staircase in the Citadel of Light, pausing at a window that overlooked the bright blue waters of the bay.

“I must teach my pupils,” she said aloud to herself. “They’re an attentive bunch and show promise, but I myself am not feeling so attentive today.” The healer twirled a strand of silver-blonde hair around her finger. “What’s that you say? I’m always attentive? No, dear Riverwind. Today my mind is on Palin and his friends. I truly believe that the fate of Krynn is on their shoulders, and I’m not so certain their shoulders can bear such weight. Why do I have doubts?” Goldmoon’s eyes fixed on the waves washing gently against the shore.

“I told you my meditations led me to believe Dhamon Grimwulf was the one, the man who could lead them to some measure of victory. My meditations reveal nothing of Palin’s chances now that Dhamon is gone.” She cocked her head to the side, listening intently. “I worry too much? I never worried so much when you were by my side. But Krynn’s future was never so grim when you were alive, dear River-wind. And the dragons were never so large.”