"And without our weapons?" added Flint. Tas noticed for the first time that his hoopak and dagger had been spirited away; Tanis's bow and Flint's axe were missing as well.
Arms crossed, Nanda nodded. "All will be revealed in good time. First, eat. You are weak with hunger."
Though uneasy, the famished half-elf and dwarf couldn't deny the truth of that. They grabbed the plates Cele held out and ate while the phaethons watched. They washed the rich food down with a dark, full-bodied ale, as smooth as milk.
"Excellent ale, surpassed only by dwarf spirits," said Flint, pushing himself back from his empty plate with a belch that ruffled his mustache and sent crumbs flying. Thanking Cele, the trio from Solace looked at Nanda expectantly.
"We are a privacy-loving race," began the head of the family and the settlement. "It is phaethon law to kidnap and administer a truth draft to one of a group of trespassers and glean from him the group's origin, destination, and mission. If we do not approve of the answers, or if we detect any untruths, we are inclined to eliminate the intruders.
"However, under truth tea, the kender revealed a story so dizzyingly tangled that we knew it could not be a fabrication. Further, he made no mention of our valley, but instead said you were looking for a young woman and a wizard." Nanda paused for effect. "We know where both of them are and believe the young woman to be in great danger."
"You've seen them?" asked Tanis, leaning forward anxiously.
"Hoto has," said Nanda, looking at his copper-skinned grandfather, who remained aloof from the group. "First, I must explain something to you.
"Great-grandfather Hoto is verda, an elder. For reasons even we do not understand, some phaethons do not die of old age. Instead, around their ninetieth year—our life expectancy—some are overcome by a desire to fly toward the sun. They climb and climb ever higher, until either exhaustion or lack of oxygen or both causes them to lose consciousness. As they plummet back toward Krynn, a marvelous transformation takes place. Regaining their senses, still thousands of feet above ground, they discover that they have metamorphosed into verda. They have grown taller, their hair is snow white, their flaming wingspan, agility, and endurance are greatly increased while their need for food, water, and sleep are diminished. Barring accidents, they often live to be three hundred years old.
"Solitary by nature and living apart from the settlement, verda serve as sentries. The reason I tell you this is that, once a month for a number of years, Greatgrandfather Hoto has seen the bald-pated wizard fly into the mountains. His destination is just beyond the boundary of our valley. Hoto has long been certain his purpose here involves evil doings.
"Yesterday, knowing that the time was approaching for the wizard's arrival, Hoto watched and waited. As dusk descended, he was startled to see a very large, unusual fish swimming upstream in the same river from which you were rescued. As Hoto watched, the fish must have cut itself seriously, as it began to trail great whorls of blood. Even more startling, before his eyes the fish transformed into a ghostly pale, fair-haired young woman and climbed from the stream onto land!"
"That's Selana!" cried Tas.
"This Selana had a severe gash in her side," continued Nanda, "and she wore little but rags, which were wet and freezing in the cold air. Hoto quickly set out to rescue her, but she was very far away. Before he could reach her, something even more mysterious happened. Out of nowhere a creature appeared. Hoto claims this beast looked like a minotaur, but it was not truly a beast. It was a monstrous creation made of living white stone. This thing scooped up the woman and carried her away into the face of the mountain, at the place where the wizard comes each month."
"This is perfect," Tas declared. "We've got Balcombe, the bracelet, and Selana all together in one place. Even Rostrevor, the squire, is there, I'm sure of it. We can rescue everyone at once."
For the first time, Hoto addressed the group. He did not move, but continued sitting on his stool and staring into the fire. "Anyone you plan to save must be rescued today."
Tanis turned to Nanda with raised eyebrows. The half-elf was completely unfamiliar with phaethon social patterns, but their hierarchy was obviously rigid. The last thing he wanted was to offend the people who could be their best allies. Nanda understood Tanis's silent plea and addressed him. "You may speak, Tanis Half-Elven, but be truthful in everything you say."
"Considering Hoto's statement," Tanis began, "I propose that we attack Balcombe's hideout tonight. We have had little success fighting this man before, but if we surprise him, we may be able to beat him."
"Tonight will be too late. This evening may be too late. Now is the only time." The elder phaethon's voice held no rancor, no sarcasm or criticism. With the exception of the Speaker of the Sun, Tanis had never heard anyone state a fact with such simple conviction.
Tanis did not want to offend the eider phaethon by questioning this information, but his memory of the battle against Balcombe beneath Tantallon Castle was still vivid. The thought of rushing into another fight without time to plan or prepare frightened him.
Again, Nanda sensed Tanis's uneasiness. "You may question Hoto if you wish. Remember, however, that this freedom is almost never allowed to strangers. Remember, too, that his truthfulness is unassailable. If Hoto says it is so, then it is so. You may ask him to clarify."
Those restrictions seemed to make questions superfluous, Tanis thought, but at least some further information could be gleaned. "Why is speed so important?" he asked.
"Last night, the moon Nuitari entered high sanction. This man always performs his rituals during Nuitari's high sanction. Tonight, Nuitari and Lunitari are aligned, making this a time of powerful magic. Such a combination will not recur
