“Perhaps their origin could be found in this library?” Raistlin suggested, sweeping an arm to indicate the thousands of volumes of books lining the walls. He remembered what he’d been told, that some of them were magical. “If you would like, I could help you search.”
“Yes, I think I would like that very much,” the councillor said. A slight flush suffused her pale skin. She glanced into her drink, then lifted her large eyes to stare again at the mage.
Raistlin studied the woman in front of him. Something was wrong, something was bothering him, nagging at him, demanding his attention. But, dazzled by her beauty, he couldn’t think what. Perhaps it was Shavas herself. She had told them much . . . and nothing. He’d learned more talking with people in the street. He felt she was hiding something, something she would reveal to him alone. The mage cast a sharp, meaningful glance at his brother.
Caramon pretended not to notice. He had witnessed
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his brother’s dealings with others before. He knew of Raistlin’s constant manipulations and maneuverings, the way he let a subtle hint fall on interested ears, alluding to things he only guessed at, coercing his prey into letting slip information that was best kept from the knowledge of others. The fighter was always ashamed by the mage’s need to display cognitive superiority over others. Besides, Caramon didn’t want to leave the presence of this beautiful woman. Caramon had noted that, though she talked to Raistlin, she seemed to be constantly looking at the big warrior.
“Well, Master Wizard,” said Shavas, breaking what had become an uncomfortable silence, “will you and your brother help our city in its hour of grave need?”
“It says here,” the mage stated, pulling a rolled piece of parchment from under his robes, “that the fee for the job is ‘negotiable.’ Exactly how much room for negotiation exists?”
“The fee quoted by the Minister of Finance is ten thousand steel pieces,” Shavas said.
Caramon’s mouth dropped open. Ten thousand steel was more money than he had made in his life, let alone at once. Thoughts of what such a large sum of money could buy raced through his head: An inn! No, a huge tavern, with a fireplace in the middle and a dozen rooms and stables out in back. He imagined a house perched high in the vallenwoods of Solace and grew so excited that he stood up and began to roam around the room, bumping into things, overturning a small chair.
“Caramon,” said Raistlin irritably. “Where is Earwig?”
“I don’t know,” Caramon answered. “It’s not my day to watch him.”
The councillor looked alarmed, her face filling with sudden apprehension.
“I don’t want him wandering around my house! There are too many precious things that shouldn’t be touched!
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Would you go and search for him, sir?”
Caramon, looking into the woman’s eyes, felt that if she had asked him to go to the Abyss and find a five-headed dragon, he would have left immediately.
“Sure. Glad to, my lady,” he said. He walked out of the room by the side door, closing it loudly behind him.
Raistlin stood from his chair, using the Staff of Magius for support, though he felt no more tired than he had earlier that afternoon. Walking to a bookshelf, he leaned against it, stealing surreptitious glances at the texts. Perhaps whatever was troubling him emanated from the books.
“There is something I need to ask you, my lady.”
“Call me Shavas, please,” she said, moving nearer to him.
The mage ran a golden hand along the spines of several books. Dust collected on his fingers, and he regarded the fine gray powder with a frown, disliking the treatment the texts received. He rubbed his fingers together, letting the dust fall onto the carpet. “What is our success worth to you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question,” Shavas replied, shaking her head slightly and furrowing her arched brows.
“It is very simple, Councillor,” Raistlin said, moving, unconsciously, nearer to her. “What value do you place on our success?”
“It would mean saving the city and the entire world, of course. It means everything to me, because unless you succeed, there will be nothing left but darkness and despair.” Shavas said this casually, without undue excitement. She even smiled slightly, as if darkness and despair weren’t anything she couldn’t handle. “What do you expect me to say? That your success is worth the wealth of