Prologue

“Why, look, Berem. Here’s a path... how strange. All the times we’ve been hunting in these woods and we’ve never seen it.”

“It’s not so strange. The fire burned off some of the brush, that’s all. Probably just an animal trail.”

“Let’s follow it. If it is an animal trail, maybe we’ll find a deer. We’ve been hunting all day with nothing to show for it. I hate to go home empty-handed.”

Without waiting for my reply, she turns onto the trail. Shrugging, I follow her. It is pleasant being outdoors today— the first warm day after the bitter chill of winter. The sun is warm on my neck and shoulders. Walking through the fire-ravaged woods is easy. No vines to snag you. No brush to tear at your clothing. Lightning, probably that thunderstorm which struck late last fall.

But we walk for a long time and finally I begin to grow weary. She is wrong—this is no animal trail. It is a man-made path and an old one at that. We’re not likely to find any game. Just the same as it’s been all day. The fire, then the hard winter. The animals dead or gone. There’ll be no fresh meat tonight.

More walking. The sun is high in the sky. I’m tired, hungry. There’s been no sign of any living creature.

“Let’s turn back, sister. There’s nothing here...”

She stops, sighing. She is hot and tired and discouraged, I can tell. And too thin. She works too hard; doing women’s work and men’s as well. Out hunting when she should be home, receiving the pledges of suitors. She’s pretty, I think. People say we look alike, but I know they are wrong. It is only that we are so close— closer than other brothers and their sisters. But we’ve had to be close. Our life has been so hard...

“I suppose you’re right, Berem. I’ve seen no sign... Wait, brother... Look ahead. What’s that?”

I see a bright and shining glitter, a myriad of colors dancing in the sunlight—as if all the jewels on Krynn were heaped together in a basket.

Her eyes widen. “Perhaps it’s the gates of the rainbow!”


Ha! Stupid girlish notion. I laugh, but I find myself running forward. It is hard to catch up with her. Though I am bigger and stronger, she is fleet as a deer.

We come to a clearing in the forest. If lightning did strike this forest, this must have been where the bolt hit. The land around is scorched and blasted. There was a building here once, I notice. Ruined, broken columns jut up from the blackened ground like broken bones sticking through decaying flesh. An oppressive feeling hangs over the place. Nothing grows here, nor has anything grown here for many springs. I want to leave, but I cannot...

Before me is the most beautiful, wonderful sight I have ever seen in my life, or in my dreams... A piece of a stone column, encrusted with jewels! I know nothing about gemstones, but I can tell these are valuable beyond belief! My body begins to shake. Hurrying forward, I kneel down beside the fire-blasted stone and brush away the dirt and filth.

She kneels beside me.

“Berem! How wonderful! Did you ever see anything like it? Such beautiful jewels in such a horrible place.” She looks around and I feel her shivering. “I wonder what this used to be? There’s such a solemn feeling about it, a holy feeling. But an evil feeling, too. It must have been a temple before the Cataclysm. A temple to the evil gods . . . Berem! What are you doing?”

I have taken out my hunting knife and I begin to chip away the stone around one of the jewels—a radiant green gemstone. It is as big as my fist and sparkles more brilliantly than the sun shining on green leaves. The rock around it comes away easily beneath my knife blade.

“Stop it, Berem! “Her voice is shrill. “It—it’s desecration! This place is sacred to some god! I know it!”

I can feel the gemstone’s cold crystal, yet it burns with an inner green fire! I ignore her protests.

“Bah! You said before it was the rainbow’s gates! You’re right! We’ve found our fortune, as the old story says. If this place was sacred to the gods, they must have abandoned it years ago. Look round, it’s nothing but rubble! If they wanted it, they should have taken care of it. The gods won’t mind if I take a few of these jewels...

“Berem!”

An edge of fear in her voice! She’s really frightened! Foolish girl. She’s beginning to irritate me. The gemstone is almost free. I can wiggle it.

“Look, at it, Jas!” I am shaking with excitement. I can barely talk. “We’ve nothing to live on, now— what with the fire and the hard winter. These jewels will bring money enough in the market at Cargath for us to move away from this wretched place. We’ll go to a city, maybe Palanthas! You know you’ve wanted to see the wonders there...

“No! Berem, I forbid it! You are committing sacrilege!”

Her voice is stern. I have never seen her like this! For a moment I hesitate. I draw back, away from the broken stone column with its rainbow of jewels. I, too, am beginning to feel something frightening and evil about this place. But the jewels are so beautiful! Even as I stare at them, they glitter and sparkle in the sunshine. No god is here. No god cares about them. No god will miss them. Embedded in some old column that is crumbling and broken.

I reach down to pry the jewel out of stone with my knife. It is such a rich green, shining as brilliantly as the spring sun shines through the new leaves of the trees. ...

“Berem! Stop!”

Her hand grasps my arm, and her nails dig into my flesh. It hurts... I grow angry and, as sometimes happens when I grow angry, a haze dims my vision and I feel a suffocating swelling inside of me. My head pounds until it seems my eyes must burst from their sockets.

“Leave me be!” I hear a roaring voice—my own!

I shove her...

She falls...

It all happens so slowly. She is falling forever. I didn’t mean to ... I want to catch her... But I cannot move.

She falls against the broken column.

Blood... blood...

“Jas!” I whisper, lifting her in my arms.

But she doesn’t answer me. Blood covers the jewels. They don’t sparkle anymore. Just like her eyes. The light is gone....

And then the ground splits apart! Columns rise from the blackened, blasted soil, spiraling into the air! A great darkness comes forth and I feel a horrible, burning pain in my chest....

“Berem!”

Maquesta stood on the foredeck, glaring at her helmsman.

“Berem, I told you. A gale’s brewing. I want the ship battened down. What are you doing? Standing there, staring out to sea. What are you practicing to be—a monument? Get moving, you lubber! I don’t pay good wages to statues!”

Berem started. His face paled and he cringed before Maquesta’s irritation in such a pitiful manner that the captain of the Perechon felt as if she were taking out her anger on a helpless child.

That’s all he is, she reminded herself wearily. Even though he must be fifty or sixty years old, even though he was one of the best helmsmen she had ever sailed with—mentally, he was still a child.

“I’m sorry, Berem,” Maq said, sighing. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just the storm ... it makes me nervous. There, there. Don’t look at me like that. How I wish you could talk! I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours—if there is anything! Well, never mind. Attend to your duties, then go below. Better get used to lying in your berth for a few days until the gale blows itself out.”

Berem smiled at her—the simple, guileless smile of a child.

Maquesta smiled back, shaking her head. Then she hurried away, her thoughts busy with getting her beloved ship prepared to ride out the gale. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Berem shuffle below, then promptly forgot about him when her first mate came aboard to report that he had found most of the crew and only about one-third of them were so drunk as to be useless...

Berem lay in the hammock slung in the crew’s quarters of the Perechon. The hammock swung back and forth violently as the first winds of the gale struck the Perechon as it rode at anchor in the harbor of Flotsam on the Blood Sea of Istar. Putting his hands—the hands that looked too young on the body of a fifty-year-old human—beneath his head, Berem stared up at the lamp swinging from the wooden planks above him.

“Why, look, Berem. Here’s a path... How strange! All the times we’ve been hunting in these woods and we’ve never seen it.”

“It’s not so strange. The fire burned off some of the brush, that’s all. Probably just an animal trail.”

“Let’s follow it. If it is an animal trail, maybe we’ll find a deer. We’ve been hunting all day with nothing to show for it. I hate to go home empty-handed.”

Without waiting for my reply, she turns onto the trail. Shrugging, I follow her. It is pleasant being outdoors today— the first warm day after the bitter chill of winter. The sun is warm on my neck and shoulders. Walking through the fire-ravaged woods is easy. No vines to snag you. No brush to tear at your clothing. Lightning, probably that thunderstorm which struck late last fall...

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