"How do you know they're magic and not just some mechanical device of the dwarves?" Tanis asked, sensing that Tas was hiding something.

Tas gulped. He had been hoping Tanis wouldn't ask him that question.

"Uh;" Tas stammered, "I-I guess I did sort of, !happened to, uh, mention them to Raistlin one night when you were all busy doing something else. He told me they might be magic. To find out, he said one of those weird spells of his and they – uh – to glow. That meant they Were enchanted. He asked me what they did and I demonstrated and he said they were 'glasses of true seeing: The dwarves magic-users of old made them to read books written in other languages and-" Tas stopped.

"And?" Tanis pursued.

"And-uh-magic spellbooks:" Tas's voice mss a whisper.

"And what else did Raistlin say?"

"That if I touched his spellbooks or even looked at them sideways, he'd turn me into a cricket and s-swallow m-me whale;' Tasslehoff stammered. He looked up at Tanis with wide eyes. "'I believed him; too:'

Tanis shook his head. Trust Raistlin to come up with a threat awful enough to quench the curiosity of a kender. "Anything else:` he asked.

"No, Tanis," Tas said innocently. Actually Raistlin had mentioned something else about the glasses, but Tas hadn't been able to understand it very well. Something about the glasses seeing things too truly, which didn't make any sense, so he figured it probably wasn't worth bringing up. Besides, Tanis was mad enough already.

"Well, what have you discovered?" Tanis asked grudgingly.

"Oh, Tanis, it's so interesting!" Tas said, thankful the ordeal was over. He carefully turned a page and, even as he did so, it split and cracked beneath his small fingers. He shook his head sadly. "That happens almost every time. But, you can see here"-the others leaned around to stare beneath the kender's finger-"pictures of dragons. Blue dragons, red dragons, black dragons, green dragons. I didn't know there were so many. Now, see this thing?" He turned another page. "Oops. Well, you can't see it now, but it was a huge ball of glass. And-so the book says-if you have one of these glass balls, you can gain control aver the dragons and they'll do what you say!"

"Glass ball!" Flint sniffed, then sneezed. "Don't believe him, Tanis. I think the only thing those glasses have done is magnify his tall stories:'

"I am so telling the truth!" Tas said indignantly. 'They're called dragon orbs, and you can ask Raistlin about them! He must know because'., according to this, they wore made by the great wizards, long ago:'

"I believe you;" Tanis said gravely, seeing that Tasslehoff was really upset. "But I'm afraid it wan"t do us much good. They were probably all destroyed in the Cataclysm and we wouldn't know where to look anyway-"

"Yes, we do," Tas said excitedly. "There's a list here, of where they were kept. See--'He stopped, cocking his head. "Shhhh:' he said, listening. The others fell silent For a moment they heard nothing, then their ears caught what the mender's quicker hearing had already detected.

Tanis felt his hands. grow cold; the dry, bitter taste of fear filled his mouth. Now he could hear, in the distance, the sound of hundreds of hams braying – horns all of them had heard before. The bellowing, brass horns that heralded the approach of the draconian armies-and the approach of the dragons.

The horns of death.

Chapter 7

`-not destined to meet again in this world."

The companions had just reached the marketplace when the first flight of dragons struck Tarsis.

The group had separated from the knights, riot a pleasant parting. The knights had tried to convince them to escape with them into the hills. When the companions refused, Derek. demanded that Tasslehoff accompany them, since the kender alone knew the location of the dragon orbs. Tanis knew Tas would only run away from the knights and ,vas forced to refuse again.

"Bring the kender, Sturm, and come with us;' Derek commanded, ignoring Tanis.

"I cannot, sir;" Sturm replied, laying his hand on Tanis's arm. "He is my leader, and my first loyalty is to my friends:'

Derek's voice was cold with anger. "If that is your decision;" he answered, "I cannot stop you. But this is a black mark against you, Sturm Brightblade. Remember that you are not a knight. Not yet. Pray that I am not there when the question of your knighthood comes before the Council:'

Sturm became as pale as death. He cast a sideways glance at Tanis, who tried to hide his astonishment at this startling news. But there was no time to think about it. The sound of the horns, screaming discordantly on the chill air, was coming closer and closer each second. The knights and the companions parted; the knights heading for their camp in the hills, the companions returning to town.

They found the townspeople outside their houses, speculating on the strange horn calls, which they had never heard before and did not understand. One Tarsian alone heard and understood. The Lord in the council chamber rose to his feet at the sound. Whirling, Ire turned upon the smug-looking draconian seated in the shadows behind him.

"You said we would be spared!" the Lord said through clenched teeth. "We're still negotiating-"

"The Dragon Highlord grew weary of negotiation;" the draconian said, stifling a yawn. "And the city will be spared-after it has been taught a lesson, of course:"

The Lord's head sank into his hands. The other council members, not fully comprehending what was happening, stared at each other in horrified awareness as they saw tears trickle through the Lord's fingers.

Outside, the red dragons were visible in the skies, hundreds of them. Flying in regimented groups of three to five, their wings glistened flame red in the setting sun. The people of Tarsis knew one thing and one thing only: death flew overhead.

As the dragons swooped low, making their first passes over the town, the dragonfear flowed from them, spreading panic more deadly than fire. The people had one thought in their minds as the shadows of the wings blotted out the dying light of day-escape.

But there was no escape.

After the first pass, knowing now that they would meet no resistance, the dragons struck. One after the other, they circled, then dropped from the sky like red-hot shot, their fiery breath engulfing building after building with flame. The spreading fires created their own windstorms. Choking smoke filled the street, turning twilight into midnight. Ash poured down like black rain. Screams of terror changed to screams of agony as people died in the blazing abyss that was Tarsis.

And as the dragons struck, a sea of fear-crazed humanity surged through the flame-lit streets. Few had any clear idea of where they were going. Some shouted they would be safe in the hills, others ran down by the old waterfront, still others tried to reach the city gates. Above them flew the dragons, burning at their discretion, killing at their leisure.