Chapter Thirteen
Raistlin
"Whas...goin' on...?" Stevan asked groggily, trying to push away from the person shaking him. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision cleared, and he stopped wriggling. It was Nina.
"Five more minutes, mom?" he asked, rubbing his forhead. "I have a headache."
"Stevan, think!" John hissed. "You're not in bed! We're in that goon's van, going who knows where!"
Nina covered Stevan's mouth as he cried out. "I know, sweetie," she murmured. "We're all scared."
Suddenly, the door to the trio's room swung open, and in walked a very different trio.
"Gana!" John exclaimed. "Kivo, Io, what're you --"
Gana shook his head and winnked. Kivo and Io grinned, showing rows of glistening teeth.
We're to give you this, Gana thought harshly, tossing Nina some bread. Winking again, he muttered something to John in Kynnish, and departed with his friends.
"What was that all about?" Stevan asked, breaking off some bread to eat.
"Well, John explained, "Gana and the others used to be with the Kin Poliece, and they still have 'connections.' When they heard about our capture, they zipped right in to help us escape!"
Nina sighed with relief. "They've done so much for us, though," she said, a bit guilty. "We should find a way to return the favor!"
Stevan, who had never seen the Dragons before, stared after the retreating forms with interest. He then turned to his mother. "I don't think they have anything better to do, mom," Stevan said dryly. "And, from what you tell me about them, they seem to like you. Who knows why," he added, grinning.
Nina gave him her 'I'm-your-mom-you'd-better-be-nice' stare, then laughed. The three of them sat in silence for a while after that and ate, and, though they tried to look merry, each one secretly wondered when they would be able to escape. If they were able to get away at all.
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Starre found sleep totally impossible. Pacing her small room, her thoughts could not seem to settle. The egg lay nextled in the covers of the bed, warm and safe.
Starre turned to the egg, a welcome distraction from the night's activities. She sat down beside it, and traced its spots with her finger again.
"I could really use some company right now," she murmured, rocking the egg in her arms. "Are you coming anytime soon?"
To her surprise, Starre did receive an answer this time around. But it was an answer very different from what she'd expected.
It came in the form of a long, thin crack in the eggshell.
**--**--**
Gana came into the room again, this time bringing bottles of water.
Enjoy, he said, grinning again. There's more where that came from.
"But -" John began, but Gana stopped him.
Shirnav won't care, he said, frowning slightly. Where he's taking you, it won't matter.
Stevan gulped. "W-where is he taking us?"
To be on the Saxvistan DF Team, of course!
Stevan and John both shouted, but Nina wasn't there to quiet them. She had fainted on John's lap.
But fear not, Kivo said, entering the room to help John revive Nina. We have a plan.
Yep, Io said, coming in behind Kivo. Here's what you do....
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Half an hour passed. The eggshell was a network of thin cracks now, and part of the egg seemed about to shatter. Starre watched with baited breath, remembering reading that she was to wait and let the hatchling make it out on its own.
Starre glanced up at the clock. 35 minutes had gone by since she'd first spotted the cracks. She'd heard cooing and trilling several times from the inside of the egg. The wyrm was most likely healthy.
Starre reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a little beanbag toy of a marine-arboreal bishel. It had been a gift from Indy to Amaryllis, and from Amaryllis to Starre, and she had been impressed by the sheer detail and intricate stitching. She laid it by the egg. She'd give it to her wyrm.
The egg was moving slightly now, and a part of the shell was bulging. Suddenly, in a burst of red and blue, the tedious hatchling was over. A slim, tiny red wyrm lay gasping for breath on the bed.
Starre made a delighted 'ah!' noise, and the wyrm opened its dark eyes. The first thing the elegant red femme saw was its friend looking down on her thin red body with pure love and compassion.
Starre, the baby thought-spoke, lifting her head slightly.
Tears of happiness found their way down Starre's cheeks. "Raistlin," she replied, scooping the wyrm up in her arms, where she promptly fell asleep, her head nestled on Starre's shoulder.
Raistlin. Starre hadn't been sure about the name, but it seemed so natural for her to say when looking at the babe. It meant beautiful warrior in Kynnish, and, if Raistlin was like most reds, the name would be accurate.
"Raistlin," Starre crooned, letting the name roll over her tongue. "Raistlin, welcome home."
The red gave a contented sort of coo in her sleep, as if she knew exactly where she was and was really quite happy to be there at last.