was lying on — he couldn't open his eyes to see, they felt all gummed together — how long it would take him to die and end this suffering.
When he could be sick no more and when it seemed that his insides might actually stay inside, Palin lay back with a groan. His head was beginning to clear a little, and he realized suddenly, when he tried to move, that his hands were tied behind his back. Fear shot through his muzzy brain, its cold surge blowing away the mists of the dwarf spirits. He couldn't feel his feet, and he dimly knew that cords tied around his ankles had cut off his circulation. Gritting his teeth, he shifted his position slightly and wiggled his toes inside his soft leather boots, wincing as he felt the tingling of returning blood.
He was lying on a wooden plank, he noticed, feeling it beneath him with his hands. And there was a peculiar motion to the plank, it was rocking back and forth in a manner most unsettling to Palin's aching head and churning stomach. There were strange noises and smells, too — wood creaking, an odd whooshing and gurgling, and, every so often, a tremendous roaring and thudding and flapping above his head that sounded like a stampede of horses or, Palin thought with a catch in his throat, his father's description of attacking dragons. Cautiously, the young mage opened his eyes. Almost instantly, he shut them again. Sunlight streaming through a small, round window pierced his brain like an arrow, sending white-hot pain bouncing around the backs of his eyeballs. The plank rocked him this way and that, and Palin was sick again.
When he recovered sufficiently to think he might not die in the next ten seconds — a matter of extreme regret — Palin braced himself to open his eyes and keep them open.
He managed, but at the cost of being sick again. Fortunately or unfortunately, there was nothing left inside him to lose, and it wasn't long before he was able to look around. He was lying on a wooden plank, as he had surmised. The plank had been built into a curved wooden wall of a small room and was obviously intended as a crude bed. Several other planks lined the walls of the oddly shaped room and Palin saw his two brothers lying unconscious on these, bound hand and foot as he was. There was no other furniture in the room, nothing but a few wooden chests, which were sliding along the wooden floor.
Palin had only to look out the small, round window on the wall across from him to confirm his worst fears. At first, he saw nothing but blue sky and white clouds and bright sunlight. Then the plank on which he was lying dropped — it seemed — into a chasm. The wooden chests scraped across the floor, running away past him. Blue sky and clouds vanished, to be replaced by green water.
Shutting his eyes once more, Palin rolled over to ease his cramped muscles, pressing his aching head against the cool, damp wood of the crude bed.
Or perhaps he should say 'berth.' That's the nautical term, isn't it? he said to himself bitterly. That's what you call a bed on a ship. And what will they call US on the ship? Palin asked himself in despair. Galley slaves? Chained to the oars, subject to the overmaster
with his whip, flaying the flesh from their backs… The motion of the ship changed, the sea chests skittered along the floor in the opposite direction, sky and clouds leaped back into the window, and Palin knew he was going to be sick again.
'Palin… Palin, are you all right?'
There was an anguished tone in the voice that brought Palin to consciousness. Painfully, he once again opened his eyes. He must have slept, he realized, though how he could have done so with this throbbing in his head and the queasy state of his stomach he had no idea.
'Palin!' The voice was urgent.
'Yes,' said Palin thickly. It took an effort to talk, his tongue felt and tasted as though gully dwarves had taken up residence in his mouth. The thought made his stomach lurch, and he abandoned it hurriedly. 'Yes,' he said again, 'I'm… all right…'
'Thank Paladine!' groaned the voice, which Palin recognized now as Tanin's. 'By the gods, you looked so pale, lying there, I thought you were dead!'
'I wish I was,' Palin said feelingly.
'We know what you mean,' said Sturm, a very subdued and miserable Sturm, to judge by the sound.
Twisting around, Palin was able to see his brothers. If I look as bad as they do, he thought, no wonder Tanin believed I was dead. Both young men were pale beneath their tan skin, their pallor had a faint greenish tinge, and there was ample evidence on the deck below that both had been extremely sick. Their red curls were tangled and wet and matted, their clothes soaked. Both lay on their backs, their hands and feet tied with rough leather thongs. Tanin had a large bruise on his forehead and, in addition, his wrists were cut and bleeding. He had obviously been trying to free himself and failed.
'This is all my fault,' said Tanin glumly, with another groan as nausea welled up inside of him. 'What a fool I was, not to see this coming!'
'Don't give yourself all the credit, Big Brother,' said Sturm. 'I went right along with you. We should have listened to Palin — »
'No, you shouldn't have,' Palin mumbled, closing his eyes against the sight of the sea and sky constantly shiftingplaces in the porthole. 'I was being a superior, self righteous twit, as both of you tried to point out.' He was silent a moment, trying to decide if he was going to be sick or not. Finally, he thought he wasn't and added, 'We're in this together now, anyway. Either of you know where we are and what's going on?'
'We're in the hold of a ship,' Tanin said. 'And, from the sounds of it, they've got some great beast chained up there.'
'A dragon?' Palin asked quietly.
'Could be.' Tanin answered. 'I remember Tanis describing the black dragon that attacked them in Xak Tsaroth. He heard a gurgling noise and a hissing, like water boiling in a kettle…'
'But why would anyone chain a dragon up on a ship?' argued Sturm weakly.
'All kinds of reasons,' Palin muttered. 'Most of them nasty.'
'Probably keeps slaves like us in line. Palin,' called Tanin in a low voice, 'can you do anything? To free us, I mean? You know, your magic?'
'No,' said Palin bitterly. 'My spell components are gone — Not that I could get to them if I had them, since my hands are tied. My staff — MY STAFF!' He recalled with a pang. Fearfully he struggled to sit up, glanced around, then breathed a sigh of relief. The Staff of Magius stood in a corner, leaning up against the hull of the ship. For some reason, it did not move when the ship listed, but remained standing perfectly still, seemingly unaffected by the laws of nature. 'My staff might help, but the only thing I know how to make it do is give light,' he admitted shamefacedly. 'Besides,' he added, lying wearily back down, 'my head aches so I can barely remember my name, much less a magic spell.'
The young men were silent, each thinking. Tanin struggled against his bonds once more, then gave it up. The leather had been soaked with water and had tightened when it dried so that it was impossible for the big man to escape. Then Sturm gave a low whistle and twisted his body to face his younger brother.
'Palin,' he said softly, 'I remember a story about Uncle Raistlin, how he and Father were captured by bandits and he freed himself using a knife he had hidden on his wrist. Do you — »
'Yes,' said Palin. 'I've got a knife like his. Justarius sent it to me when I passed the Test. It's attached to my wrist with a thong.' He paused, then said reluctantly, 'And I have yet to figure out how the damn thing works.'
Sturm and Tanin, sitting up hopefully at the beginning of this conversation, lay back down with groans at its conclusion.
'So, it looks like we're prisoners in this wretched hole — »
'Prisoners?' called a booming voice. 'Losers, maybe. But prisoners, never!'
A trapdoor in the ceiling opened, and a short, stocky figure in bright red velvet with black curling hair and beard poked his head through. 'My guests you are!' cried Dougan Redhammer lustily, peering at them through the hatch. 'And fortunate beyond all humans, because I have chosen you to accompany me on my grand quest! A quest that will make you famous throughout the world! A quest that will make that minor adventure your parents were involved in seem like a kender scavenger hunt!' Dougan leaned down so far through the hatch that his face became quite red with the exertion and he almost tumbled through upside down.
'We're not going on any quest of yours, dwarf!' Tanin said with an oath. And, for once, both Palin and Sturm were in full agreement.
Leering down at them through the hatch, Dougan grinned. 'Wanna bet?
