“Will we?” questioned the man in black. He jerked the lord’s head back. The neck snapped. The minister went limp, though—for a moment—his eyes appeared remarkably alive. Remarkably malevolent.
Tossing Manion to the ground, the assassin bent down over the corpse. Sharp claws rent cloak and clothes, skin and sinew.
“You will have whatever you need, Raistlin,” Shavas said.
The discussions had been concluded. Lord Cal had not returned, and Caramon was wondering if Shavas had sent him out on some sort of trumped-up mission in order to get rid of him.
187
DRAQONLANCE Pnelubes
“Thank you. Councillor . . . and officials of Mereklar,” Raistlin said with a slight sneer.
“When will you start?” Lady Masak asked.
“I have already started, Lady Masak.” The mage smiled. The woman appeared somewhat alarmed.
Everyone began to make preparations to leave, gathering up any notes they had taken during the talk, when the door flew open.
Lord Cal stepped in. “Councillor! I must speak with you!”
The man’s voice was strained, tense. Going to Shavas, he whispered something. Color drained from the woman’s face. She swallowed, opened her mouth, closed it.
“Gentlemen.” Lord Cal glared at Raistlin and his companions. “I must speak with the ministers in private. Would you excuse us, please?”
It wasn’t a request, but a command. Raistlin and Cara-mon left the room, Caramon returning in a moment to grab the kender.
“I didn’t know he meant me!” Earwig said, wriggling in the warrior’s grasp. “No one ever called me a gentleman before!”
The door shut behind them. Raistlin waited until he heard the lock click, then he swiftly withdrew one of the pouches hanging from his belt. Removing the cup he used to mix his drink, he placed it against one of the walls and put his ear to it, listening intently. There came a scraping sound from inside and Raistlin sprang backward, thrusting the cup beneath the folds of his robe.
The door opened, and Shavas entered the hall. “I’m sorry, but we must end the meeting now. My carriage will take you back to your lodgings.” She gazed at them, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t make up her mind. Then, shaking her head, she dispatched a servant, turned, and reentered the council room, closing the door behind her.
188
“What did you hear?” Caramon came over to Raistlin, who was leaning on his staff, staring after the woman thoughtfully.
“Lord Manion. He’s been killed. His body was found in a park not far from here.”
Caramon stared. “Killed?”
“Excuse me, sirs.” The coachman entered. “Councillor Shavas has instructed me to take to your inn.”
“Maybe we’re not ready to g—” Caramon began.
Raistlin laid a hand on his arm. “I am feeling tired. I could use a night’s rest.” He took a step forward, then suddenly halted, glancing around. “My staff! I left it behind in the council room!”
“No, you didn’t,” said Caramon. “You had it just a moment—” The warrior stared. The staff was nowhere to be seen.
“I don’t want to interrupt the meeting. If you could wait for us, sir,” said Raistlin to the coachman, “we’ll be right out. You can wait outside,” he added pointedly.
The driver appeared dubious, but—not having any instructions to the contrary—he left the room.
Raistlin breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now, Caramon, we must leave this house without anyone noticing us. There must be another door . . . Ah, yes. We’ll use this one.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the park, to inspect the body ourselves.”
“Wow!” breathed Earwig in awe.
Raistlin started down the hall, walking rapidly, with unusual energy. Caramon trailed behind. He’d seen enough dead men in his life and didn’t particularly relish the sight of another.
“Hey, Raist!”hesaid, remembering. “What about your staff?”
189
DRAQONLANCE PRClubes
The mage turned around. The Staff of Magius was in his hand. “What about it?” he asked.
The park where the attack had taken place was now well lit by lamps and torches, held by guardsmen wearing blue uniforms and tall helmets. They stood in a wide circle around the corpse, staring down at it, talking in low, horror-filled voices. None noticed the silent intrusion of the mage, creeping out of the shadows to stand behind them.