The Hand of Chaos by Tracy Hickman & Margaret Weis

Author:Tracy Hickman & Margaret Weis [Hickman, Tracy & Weis, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780553563696
Google: Hgud4yQzTDwC
Amazon: 0553563696
Goodreads: 28482
Publisher: Bantam Spectra
Published: 1993-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

KIR MONASTERY

VOLKARAN ISLES

MID REALM

THE SHARP LINES OF GRANITE WALLS THAT FORMED THE K!R MONAStery stood out, stark and black, against the shimmering, lambent light given off by the coralite of the hills surrounding it. The monastery itself was dark and silent; no light shone within, no sound came from within. A single, solitary glowlamp burning feebly over the entrance—a signal to those in need—was the only evidence that anyone lived here.

Iridal dismounted from her dragon, stroked its neck, spent a few moments calming it. The creature was nervous, restive, and would not respond immediately to the sleep spell she tried to cast upon it. Riders always caused their dragons to sleep after flight. Not only did the spell provide the dragon needed rest, but also the enforced slumber rendered the creature harmless, so that it would not take it into its head to raid the countryside during the mysteriarch’s absence.

But this dragon refused to be enchanted. It jerked its head away, tugged at its harness, lashed its tail this way and that. Had Iridal been an experienced dragon-rider, she would have recognized these signs as indicative of another dragon somewhere near.

Dragons are very companionable creatures, fond of their

THE HAND OF CHAOS

227

own kind, and this dragon of Iridal’s was much more inclined for a friendly chat than sleep.1 The dragon was too well trained to call out (they are taught to keep silent, lest a cry give away their position to an enemy). But the creature had no need to vocalize; it could sense a companion in many other ways: smell and hearing, among other, more subtle means.

If the other dragon in the area had responded, Iridal would have been forced to resort to firm measures in order to subdue her mount. As it was, the other dragon refused to acknowledge in any way its fellow’s presence. Iridal’s borrowed dragon—a mild creature, not exceptionally quick-witted—was hurt, but was too stupid to be deeply offended. Tired from the long journey, the dragon finally relaxed and listened to IridaTs soothing words.

Seeing its eyelids droop and noting the tail begin to curl about the feet, the claws to dig more firmly in the ground to gain steady purchase, Iridal quickly intoned the spell. Her dragon soon slept deeply. Never thinking to wonder why it had been restive, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of this coming meeting that she knew would not be at all a pleasant one, Iridal forgot about the odd behavior of the dragon and set out to walk the short distance between herself and the monastery.

No outer walls surrounded the monastery. No gate barred entrance. The death monks needed no such protection. When the elves occupied human lands and entire villages were razed and destroyed, the Kir monasteries remained untouched. The most drunken, blood-mad elf sobered instantly on finding himself anywhere near the black, chill walls.2

Repressing a shiver, Iridal focused her mind on what was

1 A note on dragons. The creatures who live permanently on Arianus are true dragons, an

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