Weis, Margaret - Dragonlance - Anthologies 03 - The Dragons of Chaos by Weis Margaret

Author:Weis, Margaret
Language: eng
Format: epub

She saw dust hanging in the air from his digging before she spotted the old fool himself. He was waist-deep in a hole, shoveling at an even pace and muttering to himself. Each time he brought a full spade to the surface, a plume of brown arose to taint the wind that blew its furnace-breath across the land. Above him, the bare bones of dying trees rattled fitfully against each other.

"Dragons tell me to dig here, water down below. Dragons tell me..."

Reldonas limped closer. Tarris paid no attention.

"Good day, Master Weaver," she said. "I have a message for you from Town Leader Elothur."

Green eyes, more canny than they'd appeared for months, regarded her as the old man leaned on his implement.

"I know what it is," he said, his quickness surprising her. "He wants me to fill in the holes." Tarris began to dig again. "Tell him I'm sorry, but there's no time, no time to waste."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because liquid will bubble from the ground. That's what my dragons promised. And it's going to be very soon. I must be ready."

"What must you be ready for?"

"The next vision, of course." Tarris, stopping for a moment, regarded her curiously. He climbed out of the hole and propped his shovel against a tree trunk.

Odd, Reldonas thought, how he tries to behave as if perfectly normal. He was probably the craziest of them all. Everybody in the town had changed a great deal as their work, their lives, their very minds evaporated in the unfaltering heat. But she had not changed, not that much. There was just this little nagging in her mind that craved excitement. She wiped sweat from her forehead, leaving streaks of mud.

"When will your next vision come?"

The old man chuckled, a sound as dry as the wind. "When the dragons tell it to, it will be time." He picked up his "finder"

stick of hazel, and, holding the forked end gently in his gnarled fingers, began carefully stepping through the copse.

About the size of the thickest part of the old man's thumb, the stick had been stripped of its bark and smoothed. It was gaining a patina from Tarris's hands. Its single end pointed straight ahead. Reldonas Fittering could not figure out how a lowly tree branch could ever indicate the presence of water. Nonetheless, she watched, fascinated.

The hazel wand trembled. Tanis stopped, backed up three steps, and paced over the same area again. Nothing.

Suddenly the straight end of the stick plunged downward. The old man marked the dust with his finger, carefully laid the

"finder" beyond harm, retrieved his shovel, and began digging. Dirt again fountained into the sweltering air.

Intrigued, Reldonas stumbled to the far end of the copse and sat down in the shade to think. Could the old fool's visions be correct? Was there indeed water beneath the layers of dust, water that could save Gurnn?

Reldonas's peculiar knack for figuring things out worked again. She realized suddenly that not all the trees around her were dying, only the ones farthest from where Tanis was digging.

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