Lord Cal said nothing. It seemed, for a moment, as if he might storm out of the room, but he finally subsided beneath Shavas’s icy stare.
‘The mage is here only because of the ten thousand pieces of steel,” stated Lord Brunswick.
“On the contrary,” said Shavas aloofly. “Raistlin Majere has refused to accept any payment at all.”
Obviously caught by surprise, the ministers glanced at each other. Caramon, just as shocked as they were, stared at Raistlin incredulously.
“He must be after something else, then,” Alvin said under his breath.
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“I must remind you, Lord Alvin,” Raistlin said from the depths of his cowl, “that, according to tradition, the services of all wizards are free during the Festival of the Eye.”
“And may I remind you, Master Mage, that the festival is nothing more than a child’s holiday, and legends or stories will never make it more than that!” Alvin snorted. “Tell us why you’re really here — if you dare!”
“Lord Alvin!” Councillor Shavas cried, shocked. “Since Lord Manion is not here to keep you silent, I shall be forced to have you removed from these proceedings if you do not cease your outbursts!”
“Thank you, Councillor, for your intervention,” Raistlin said, standing slowly, gripping the Staff of Magius in his right hand. “But Lord Alvin’s question is a legitimate one. My reason for remaining in your city is that I find it of interest. I have never seen a place of such beauty and wonder, and I will do whatever I can to help you. We of the red robes do not practice the dark arts of our black-robed brethren. We seek only to enlighten ourselves and grow in knowledge.”
“Then you want simply to profit by the experience?” Lady Volia asked, her chin propped up on a fist, staring intently at the mage.
“That is very astute, my lady. My companions and I believe that it is a virtue to help those in need without thought of worldly profit,” Raistlin said modestly.
Caramon knew that his brother was lying. Raistlin had never turned down an offer of money. Why’s he telling them this? What’s he really after? the fighter wondered. Looking at Councillor Shavas, who was regarding his brother with admiration, Caramon thought jealously that he knew the answer.
Silence fell, the mage’s remark having caught all of
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them off guard. Caramon could see, however, that Lord Alvin and Lord Cal remained unconvinced, even as the other ministers were slowly changing their opinions.
“How do you intend to begin the investigation?” Lady Masak asked.
Raistlin bowed slightly. “Forgive me, my lady, but my methods are not open to discussion.”
This caused an outburst, the ministers all talking—or shouting—at once. Caramon, groaning slightly from having to sit in one place too long, shifted his position restlessly.
Earwig scratched his hand; the area around the ring was turning red and raw from his constant rubbing.
Shavas beckoned to Lord Cal. “This is impossible! Go findManion!”
The captain left the room.
Lord Manion threw his dress cloak over his black cloak of office, locking the clasps held at the throat, a gold chain braided like rope. Turning back to regard the front hall once more, satisfied that everything was in order, he extinguished the lamp, closed the door, and locked it with a large bronze key.
Manion’s dwelling was similar to the other houses owned by the officials of Mereklar—a large rectangular building of white stone with panes of glass in every wall. It had, however, a run-down look. The Minister of Internal Affairs was not a wealthy man. Some said he squandered his money on women and in the taverns. He didn’t own his own carriage, but Lord Brunswick’s estate was close enough for him to walk to.
Lord Manion set off down the street toward the middle of the city. The way led him through part of the town, then into a park. As he walked, he peered up into the sky
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to observe the stars and moons, smiling at the nearly full circles of Solinari and Lunitari.
Soon, he thought. Very soon.
Manion’s heavy black boots clicked along the white stone sidewalks. The night was silent. The city’s inhabitants had shut themselves in, barring their doors against a vague and unknown terror.