Dragonlance 12 - Raistlin Chronicles - Soulforge (51 page)

"Am I disturbing you? I can come back…"

"No, no. My dear friend." Antimodes rose hastily to his feet to greet his visitor. "Come in, come in.

I am very glad to see you. I was hoping we might have a chance to talk before tomorrow. I would have gone to you, but I feared to disturb you at your work. I know how busy you are just prior to a testing."

"Yes, and this Test will prove more difficult than most. You are studying a new spell?" Par-Salian glanced at the scroll on the desk, which was partially unrolled.

"It is one I bought," said Antimodes with a grimace. "And as it turns out, I believe I was swindled.

It is not what the man promised me."

"My dear Antimodes, didn't you read it first?" Par-Salian asked, shocked.

"I only glanced over it quickly. The fault is mine, a fact which merely increases my annoyance."

"I don't suppose you could return it."

"Afraid not. One of those deals in an inn. I should know better, of course, but I have been searching for this spell for a long time, and she was so very kind, not to mention pretty, and assured me that this would do precisely what I wanted." He shrugged. "Ah, well. Live and learn. Please, sit down.

Will you have some wine?"

"Thank you." Par-Salian tasted the pale yellow liquid, rolled it on his tongue. "Conjured or purchased?"

"Purchased," Antimodes said. "Conjured lacks body, to my mind. Only the Silvanesti elves know how to do it right, and it's becoming harder and harder to acquire good Silvanesti wine these days."

"Too true," Par-Salian agreed. "King Lorac used to bring me several bottles whenever he visited, but it has been many years since he has been to see us."

"He's sulking," Antimodes observed. "He thought he should have been elected head of the conclave."

"I don't think that is it. Yes, he did feel he deserved the position, but he readily admitted that he was extremely busy with his duties as ruler of the Silvanesti. If anything, I think he wanted to be granted the honor so that he could have politely turned it down."

Par-Salian frowned thoughtfully. "Do you know, my friend, I have the strangest feeling that Lorac is hiding something from us.

He doesn't come to see me anymore because he fears discovery."

"What do you think it is? Some powerful artifact? Is there one missing?"

"Not to my knowledge. I could be wrong. I hope I am."

"Lorac was always one to act on his own, the conclave be damned," Antimodes observed.

"Still, he abided by our rules as much as any elf ever abides by rules not of his own making." Par-Salian finished his wine, permitted himself another glass.

Antimodes was silent and thoughtful, then he said abruptly, "The gods grant Lorac good of it, then.

He'll need it, I fear. Whatever it is. You received my last report?"

"I did." Par-Salian sighed. "I want to know this: Are you absolutely certain of your facts?"

"Certain? No, of course not! I will never be certain until I see with my own eyes!" Antimodes waved his hand. "It is rumor, hearsay, nothing more. Yet..." He paused, then said softly, "Yet I believe it."

"Dragons! Dragons returning to Krynn. Takhisis's dragons, no less! I hope, my friend," Par-Salian said earnestly, "I hope and pray that you are wrong."

"Still, it fits in with what facts we do know. Did you approach our black-robed brethren about this as I advised?"

"I discussed the matter with Ladonna," Par-Salian said. "Not mentioning where or how I had heard anything. She was evasive."

"Isn't she always?" Antimodes said dryly.

"Yes, but there are ways to read her if you know her," Par-Salian said.

Antimodes nodded. He was an old friend, a trusted friend. There was no need between them to mention that Par-Salian knew Ladonna better than most.

"She has been in fine spirits for the last year," Par-Salian continued. "Happy. Elated. She has also been extremely busy with something, for she has visited the tower only twice, and that to go through our collection of scrolls."

"I do have verification for my other news," Antimodes said. "As I had heard, a wealthy lord in the north is recruiting soldiers, and he is not being very particular about the type of soldiers he recruits.

Ogres, hobgoblins, goblins. Even humans willing to trade their souls for loot. A friend of mine attended one of his rallies. Vast armies are being raised, armies of darkness. I even have a name for this lord—Ariakas. Do you know him?"

"I seem to remember something of him—a minor magus, if I'm not mistaken. Far more interested in gaining what he wanted quickly and brutally by the sword than by the more subtle and elegant means of sorcery."

"That sounds like the man." Antimodes sighed, shook his head morosely. "The sun is setting. Night is coming, my friend, and we cannot stop it."

"Yet we may be able to keep a few lights burning in the darkness," Par-Salian said quietly.

"Not without help!" Antimodes clenched his fist. "If only the gods would give us a sign!"

"I'd say Takhisis has already done just that," Par-Salian said wryly.

"The gods of good, I mean. Will they let her walk over them?" Antimodes demanded, impatient and exasperated. "When will Paladine and Mishakal finally make known their presence in the world?"

"Perhaps they are waiting for a sign from us," Par-Salian observed mildly.

"A sign of what?"

"Of faith. That we trust in them and believe in them, even though we do not understand their plan."

Antimodes regarded his friend narrowly. Then, leaning back in his chair, continuing to keep his gaze on Par-Salian, Anti-modes scratched his raspy jaw. Par-Salian bore up under the intense scrutiny. He smiled to let his friend know that his thinking was traveling along the right road.

"So that is what this is all about," Antimodes said after a moment.

Par-Salian inclined his head.

"I wondered. He is so very young. Skilled, admittedly, but very young. And inexperienced."

"He will gain in experience," Par-Salian said. "We have some time before us, do we not?"

Antimodes considered the matter. "These ogres and goblins and humans must be trained, molded into a fighting force, which may prove extremely difficult. As it stands now, they would just as soon kill each other as the enemy. Ariakas has a monumental job on his hands. If rumor is true and the dragons have returned, they must also be controlled in some manner, although it will take those of strong will and courage to accomplish that! So, yes, in answer to your question, I say that we have time. Some time, but not much. The young man will never wear the white robes. You know that, don't you?"

"I know that," Par-Salian replied calmly. "I've been listening to Theobald rant and rave about Raistlin Majere for years, practically ever since he started school as a child. I know his faults: He is secretive and conniving, arrogant, ambitious, and hungry."

"He is also creative, intelligent, and courageous," Antimodes added. He was proud of his ward.

"Witness his deft handling of that renegade witch, Judith. He cast a spell far above his level of ability, a spell he should not have even been able to read, let alone command. And he cast it by himself, without help."

"Which only goes to prove that he will bend rules, even break them if it suits his purpose," Par-Salian said. "No, no. Don't feel the need to defend him further. I am aware of his merits as I am aware of his weaknesses. That is why I invited him to take the Test, rather than bring him up before the Conclave on charges, as I should do by rights, I suppose. Do you think he murdered her?"

"I do not." Antimodes was firm. "If for no other reason than cutting someone's throat is not Raistlin's style. Far too messy. He is a skilled herbalist. If he had wanted her dead, he would have slipped a little nightshade into her tarbean tea."

"You believe him capable of murder, then?" Par-Salian asked, frowning.

"Who among us is not, given the right set of circumstances? There is a rival tailor in my town, an odious man who cheats his customers and spreads vicious lies about his competitors, including my brother. I myself have been tempted more than once to send Bigby's Crushing Hand knocking on his door." Anti-modes looked quite fierce when he said this.

Par-Salian hid a smile in another glass of wine.

"You yourself used to say that those who walk the paths of night had better know how to see in the dark," Antimodes continued. "You don't want him bumbling about blindly, I suppose."

"That was part of my reasoning. The Test will teach him a few things about himself. Things he might not like to know, but which are necessary to his understanding of himself and the power he wields."

"The Test is a humbling experience," Antimodes said with something between a sigh and shudder.

Their faces lengthened, they cast surreptitious glances at each other to see if their thoughts were once more traveling in similar directions. It seemed that the thoughts were concurrent, as evidenced by the fact that they had no need to name the personage about whom they now spoke.

"He will undoubtedly be there," said Antimodes in a low voice. He glanced around guardedly, as if he feared they might be overheard in the chamber, a chamber that stood alone in the topmost part of the tower, a chamber to which no one but the two of them had access.

"Yes, I fear so," said Par-Salian, looking grave. "He will take particular interest in this young man."

"We should finish him, once and for all."

"We've tried," Par-Salian said. "And you know the results as well as I do. We cannot touch him on his plane of existence. Not only that, but I suspect that Nuitari guards him."

"He should. He never had a more loyal servant. Talk of murders!" Leaning forward, Antimodes spoke in a conspiratorial undertone. "We could limit the young man's access to him."

"And what of freedom of will? That has always been the hallmark of our orders. A freedom many have sacrificed their lives to protect! Do we throw the right to choose our own destinies to the Abyss?"

Antimodes was chastened. "Forgive me, friend. I spoke in haste. I am fond of the young man, though. Fond and proud of him. He has done me great credit. I would hate to see harm befall him."

"Indeed he has done you credit. And he will continue to do so, I hope. His own choices will lead him on the path he is to walk, as our choices led us. I trust they may be wise ones."

"The Test will be hard on him. He is a frail youth."

"The blade must pass through the fire, else it will break."

"And if he dies? What of your plans then?"

"Then I will look for someone else. Ladonna spoke to me of a promising young elf magus. His name is Dalamar…"

Their conversation turned to other matters, to Ladonna's pupil, dire events in the world, and eventually to the area that interested them most—magic.

Above the Tower, silver Solinari and red Lunitari shone brightly. Nuitari was there as well, a dark hole in the constellations. The three moons were full this night, as was necessary for the Test.

In the lands beyond the tower, far, far away from the room where the two archmagi sipped their elven wine and spoke of the fate of the world, the young mages who were traveling to the Tower to take the Test slept restlessly, if they slept at all. In the morning, the Forest of Wayreth would find them, lead them to their fate.

Tomorrow some might sleep, never to wake again.

The twins' journey to the tower took them over a month. They had expected it would take longer, for they had thought they would be traveling on foot. Shortly after their friends had left Solace, a messenger arrived to say that two horses had been delivered to the public stables in the name of Majere. The horses were gifts from Raistlin's sponsor, Antimodes.

The young men traveled southwest through Haven. Raistlin stopped to pay his respects to Lemuel, who reported that the temple of Belzor had been razed, its stone blocks used to build homes for the poor. This had been accomplished under the auspices of a new and apparently harmless religious order known as the Seekers. Lemuel had reopened his mageware shop. He showed Raistlin the black bryony, which was flourishing. He asked where they were bound. Raistlin replied that they were traveling for fun, taking a roundabout route to Pax Tharkas.

Lemuel looked very grave at this, wished them luck and a safe road many times, and sighed deeply when they left.

The two continued their journey, riding south along the western slopes of the Kharolis Mountains, skirting the borders of Qualinesti.

Although they kept close watch, they saw no elves. Yet the two were always aware of the elves watching them. Caramon suggested visiting Tanis, seeing the elven kingdom. Raistlin reminded him that their journey was secret, they were supposed to be in Pax Tharkas. Besides, he doubted if they would be able to convince the elves to admit them. The Qualinesti took more kindly to humans than did their cousins, the Silvanesti, but with evil rumors flying on dark wings from the north, the Qualinesti were wary of strangers.

On the last morning of their journey along the border, the two woke to find an elven arrow embedded at the foot of each of their bedrolls. The Qualinesti's message was clear: We have allowed you to pass, but don't come back.

The brothers breathed a little easier once they were out of elven lands, but they could not relax their vigilance, for now began their search for the wayward Forest of Wayreth. The lands in this part of Abanasinia were wild and desolate. Once the two were set upon by thieves, another time a band of goblins passed by so near that the twins could have reached out and smacked one on its scaly hide.

The bandits had thought to jump defenseless young travelers. Caramon's sword and Raistlin's fiery spells soon apprised them of their mistake. The bandits left one of their number dead on the road, the rest dashed off to bind their wounds. The goblins proved too numerous to fight, however. The brothers took refuge in a cave until the troop had marched past, heading northward at a rapid pace.

The twins spent four days searching for the forest. Caramon, frustrated and nervous, said more than once that they ought to turn back. He consulted three maps—one given him by Tasslehoff, one provided by an innkeeper in Haven, and another taken from the body of the thief. Not one of the maps showed the forest in the same location.