It seemed an ordinary infirmary, only there weren’t any nurses or doctors or engineers or mishaps officers scurrying about, taking peoples” temperatures and prescribing soapy water enemas and treatments of epsom salts. The ward was strangely silent.
He rose from his bed and walked to the window, staring out over the silver gray treetops dripping with rain. It was winter here-wherever here was. It had the look and smell of Darkember, as the Solamnics called it, Bleakcold to the kender.
Tears started in his eyes. At first he didn’t know why, but then he remembered-the kender, Razmous Pinch- pocket. The memory of the
How did he get here? Where was here? And where was everybody else-Commodore Brigg, Captain Hawser, Chief Portlost, Razmous, even Sir Tanar? He leaned out the window and scanned the ground below. A narrow path wound through the trees, beside which marble benches stood at regular intervals, but there was no one moving along the path, and the benches were all empty.
He turned away in frustration and scanned the empty ward once more. At the far end of the room, a single door provided the only exit. The walls of the room were made of stone, the floor of polished stone flags, the ceiling overarched with thick wooden beams and roofed with timber planks. Three windows provided the only light.
The room had all the appearance of perfect order and sterility, neither warm nor cold, neither inviting nor forbidding. There were eight identical beds, four along either wall. Under each bed lay a shiny metal bedpan, and beside each bed stood a small table with a washing bowl resting atop it. Pushed against the wall opposite the door was a desk on which lay several thick books, a bottle of ink, and a feather. A simple wooden chair was pushed beneath it. Hanging on the wall beside the desk was a tall mirror. Conundrum saw himself in it, but it took him several moments to notice the difference. His flaming red hair, so unusual in gnomes, had turned bone white.
Conundrum turned away in shock. As he fingered his beard and ran his hand through the thin strip of hair circling his otherwise shiny, bald head, his eyes came to rest on a thick, black leather-bound book sitting on the table beside his bed. The edges of the pages appeared to have been burned, the cover warped and cracked as though doused with water and then carelessly allowed to dry without first oiling it. He picked it up, and a smell arose from its pages that brought choking sobs to his throat. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his fingers trembling as he stroked the cover, terrified, afraid to open it, afraid not to. At last, he bent back the cover and examined the first page.
Ship’s log
— MNS Indestructible
Over the next few hours, Conundrum gingerly turned the cracked and brittle parchment pages, reliving each stage of his journey, from the day the
The mention of the Thorn Knight seemed to lift a veil from Conundrum’s eyes, and he remembered with painful clarity that moment in Sir Tanar’s cabin when he planned to take over the ship. He realized then that the Thorn Knight had murdered his cousin, and that his own testimony about the “accident” had all been a lie planted in his mind by Sir Tanar’s magic. Bitter hatred filled his heart then-hatred for the Thorn Knight for using him to cover his own crime and aid his attempt to wrest the
Conundrum flipped through the last pages, only briefly scanning the contents as he searched for the answers now burning bright as dragonfire in his heart. What happened after the dragon set the ship on fire? How did he get here? Where was everyone else? Finally, near the end of the log, he found what he was looking for. He read:
Conundrum turned the last page and found it blank. He closed the log, sighed, and lifted his eyes slowly from its worn cover. Before him stood a woman wearing long white robes with the symbol of the sun emblazoned on the breast. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a simple ring of silver, revealing a sad, smiling face, soft and radiant.
“It is good to see you awake at last, Conundrum,” she said, “but you should not tire yourself overmuch. You arrived here only seven days ago, and you were at the door of death.”
“Here? Where is here?” Conundrum asked.
“This is the Citadel of Light,” she answered softly.
“I’ve heard of this place,” he said excitedly. “This is where the healers are. You must have healed me!”