to the elves or fight to retain it:' ?

Gunthar sank into a chair,, gesturing weakly with his, hand for the others to be seated. Before him, an a table, were spread maps of the lands of Ansalon, showing in shades of darkness,: the insidious advance of the dragonarmies. Gunthar's gaa~, rested on the maps, then suddenly he swept them to the flood

"We might as well give up right now!" he snarled. ".'Send .~ message to the Dragon Highlords: 'Don't bather to come an wipe us out. We're managing quite nicely on our own.'

Angrily, he hurled on the table the message he had received "There''. That's from Palant!nas. The people have insisted knights leave the city. The Palarrthians are negotiating with t . Dragon B-lighloa~3s, and :he presence of the knights 'serio compromises their position.' They refuse to give us any ae And so an army of a thousand I'alanthiarss sits idle!"

"What is Lord Derek doing, my lord?" Michael asked.

"He and the knights and a thousand footmen, refugees from the occupied lands in Throtyl, are fortifying the High Cierist"s tower, south of Palanthas;' Gunthar said wearily. "itguards the only pass through the Vingaard Mountains. We'll protect Palanthas for a time, but if the dragonarmies get through . . :' He fell silent. "Damn it;' he whispered, beating his fist gently upon the table, "we could hold that pass with two thousand men! The fools! And now this?" He waved his hand in the direction of the elven tents.

Gunthar sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. "Well, what do you counsel, cleric?"

Elistan .•,•as quiet far a moment, before he answered. "It is written in the Disks of Mishakal that evil, by its very nature, will always turn in upon itself. Thus it becomes self-defeating:' He laid his hand upon Gunthar's shoulder. "I do not know what may come of this meeting. My gods have kept this secret from me. It could be they themselves do not know; that the future of the world stands in balance, and what we decide here will determine it. I do know this: Do not enter with defeat in your heart, far that will be the first victory of evil:"

So saying, Elistan rose and left the tent quietly.

Gunthar sat in silence after the cleric had gone. It seemed that the whole world was silent, in fact, he thought. The wind had died during the night. The storm clouds hung low and heave, muffling sound so that even the clarion trumpet's call marking day's dawning seemed flat. A rustling broke his concentration. Michael was slowly gathering up the spilled maps. Gunthar raised his head, rubbing; his eyes.

"What do you think?" "'Of what? The elves?" "That cleric;" Gunthar said, staring out the tent opening.

"Certainly nor. what I would have expected;" Michael answered, his gage following Gunthar's, "More like the stories

~n^'e've heard of the clerics of old, the ones that guided the KnigAts in the days before the Cataclysm. He's not much like these charlatans we've got now. Elistan is a man who would

stand beside you on the field of battle, calling dawn Paladine's blessing with one hand while wielding his mace with the other. He wears the medallion that none have seen since the gods

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES

abandoned us. But is he a true cleric?" Michael shrugged. "It will take a lot more than a medallion to convince me:"

"I agree:' Gunthar rose to his feet and began to walk toward the tent flap. "Well, it is nearly time. Stay here, Michael, in case any mare reports came in:" Starting to leave, he paused at the entrance to the tent. "Haw odd it is, Michael;' he murmured, his eyes following Elistan, now no more than a speck of white in the distance. "We have always been a people who looked to the gods for our hope, a people of faith, who distrusted magic. Yet now we look to magic for that hope, and when a chance comes to renew our faith, we question it:"

Lord Michael made no answer. Gunthar shook his head and, still pandering, made his way to the Glade of the Whitestone.

As Gunthar said, the Solamnic people had always been f aith-

ffollowers of the gods, Long ago, in the days before the Cataclysm, the Glade of the Whitestone had been one of the hole centers of worship. The phenomenon of the white rock had attracted the attention of the curious longer than anyone remembered. The Kingpriest of lstar himself had blessed the huge white rock that sat in the middle of a perpetually green glade, declaring it sacred to the gods and forbidding any mortal; being to touch it.

):ven after the Cataclysm, when belief in the old gads died, the Glade remained a sacred place. Perhaps that was becausey not even the Cataclysm lead affected it. Legend held that whew the fiery mountain fell from the sky, the ground around the' Whitestone cracked and split apart, but the Whitestone~ remained intact.

So awesome was the sight of the huge white rock that,even now none dared either approach or touch it. What stan›=~ powers it possessed, none could say. All they knew -was that the air around the Whitestone eras always springlike and warm No matter how bitter the winter, the grass in Whitestone Gla was always.green.

Though his heart was, heavy. Gunthar relaxed as he step inside the glade and breathed the warm, sweet air. Far moment, he felt once again the touch of Elistan's hand upon shoulder, imparting a feeling of inner peace. ~

Glancing around quickly, he saw all in readiness, Mass wooden chairs with ornately carved backs had been placed on the green grass. Five for the voting members of the Council stood to the left side of the Whitestone, three for the advisory members stood on the right. Polished benches for the witnesses to the proceedings as demanded by the Measure, sat facing the Whitestone and the Council members.

Some of the witnesses had already begun arriving, Gunthar noticed. Most of the elven party traveling with the Speaker and the Silvanesti lord were taking their seats. The two estranged elven races sat near each other, apart from the humans who were filing in as well. Everyone sat daiietly, some in remembrance of Famine Day; others, like the gnomes, who did not celebrate that holiday, in awe of their surroundings. Seats in the front row were reserved for honored guests or far those with leave to speak before the Council.

Gunthar saw the Speaker's stern-faced son, Porthios, enter with a retinue of elven warriors. They took their seats in the front. Gunthar wondered where Elistan was. He'd intended to ask him to speak. He had been impressed with the man's words (even if he was a charlatan) and hoped he would repeat them.

As he searched in vain for Elistan, he saw three strange figures enter and seat themselves in the front row: it was the old mage in his bent and shapeless hat, his kender friend, and a gnome they had brought back with them from Mount Nevermind. The three had arrived back from their journey only last night.,

Gunthar was forced to turn his attention back to the Whikestone. The advisory Council members were entering. There were only two, Lord Quinath of the Silvanesti, and the Speaker of the Suns. Gunthar looked at the Speaker curiously, knowing he was one of the few beings an Krynn to still remember the horrors of the Cataclysm.

The Speaker was so stooped that he seemed almost crippled. His hair was, gray; his face haggard. But as he took his seat and turned his gaze to the witnesses, Gunthar saw the elf's eyes Were bright and arresting. Lord Quinath, seated next to him, was known to Gunthar, who considered him as arrogant and proud as Porthios of the Qualinesti, but lacking in the intellgence Porthios possessed.

As for Porthios, Gunthar thought he could probably comet o like the Speaker's eldest son quite well. Porthios had every characteristic the knights admired, with one exception-his quick temper. Gunthar's observations were interrupted, for now it was time for the voting Council members to enter and Gunthar had to take his place. First came Mir Kar-thon of Northern Ergoth, a dark-complexioned man with iron-gray hair and the arms of I a giant. Next came Serdin MarThasal, representing the Exiles i on Sancrist, and finally Lord Gunthar, Knight of Solamnia. Once seated, Gunthar glanced around a final time. The huge Whitestone glistenedi behind him, casting its own strange radiance, for the sun world not shine today. On the other side of the Whitestone sat the Speaker, next to him Lord Quinath. I Across from them, facing the Council, sat the witnesses upon their benches. The kender was sitting subdued, swinging his short legs on his tall bench. The gnome shuffled through what looked like a ream of paper; Gunthar shuddered, wishing there'd been time to ask for a condensed report. The old magi- . clan yawned and scratched his head, peering around vaguely.