What was left of Lord Manion lay sprawled on the grass, his limbs twisted at odd angles. The head, it appeared, had nearly been torn from the body.
“His neck’s been broken,” said one of the guards. “And ‘is throat ripped open. In fact, most of ‘is insides has been torn out, like a giant hand reached in and yanked ’em.”
Caramon, peering over his brother’s shoulder, felt his stomach turn. The big man looked away. He’d seen violent death before, but that was on the battlefield. Death by stealth, by night, made him sick.
Earwig stared. He stood, twisting his ring, his usually cheerful face turning a dull leaden color. “Raistlin,” he said, gulping and tugging on the mage’s sleeve.
The mage silenced him with a glance.
“A hand didn’t do this,” said another guard. “Leastwise not a human hand. It was claws! Gigantic claws!”
“Lady Shavas,” spoke a voice that Caramon recognized as Lord Cal’s. “You shouldn’t be here. This is a gruesome sight.”
“I am Councillor. It is my duty.”
Shavas stepped forward into the light. She stared at the grisly corpse on the ground, then put her hand over her mouth and turned away. The other council members, trailing along behind, pushed through the
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guards to view the body.
“Brunswick, take the councillor home,” ordered Lord Cai.
The minister started to lead Shavas away when she suddenly looked up and saw Raistlin. “You!” she cried in a hollow voice.
“What are these men doing here? Guards, I want them removed! Now!” Lord Alvin commanded, pointing.
Shavas recovered herself. “Please, Raistlin. Leave us. This is a personal loss. . . .”
One of the guards reached forward to grab the mage’s arm, but a glance from the hourglass eyes stopped him in his tracks. Caramon took a step nearer, to be ready if his brother needed assistance. Earwig, quiet and subdued, was still staring at the body.
“Everything will be fine. Councillor,” said Raistlin reassuringly. “We will say nothing about this to anyone.”
“But I—”
“What are you doing here, wizard? How did you know about this man’s death, unless you helped commit his murder?” demanded Lord Cal. “It’s obvious he died as the result of some foul magical spell!”
“Is it?” the mage inquired with bland interest. “I suppose that explains the absence of blood?”
The question caught them all by surprise. Shavas sucked in a whistling breath through her teeth. Lord Alvin pointed at the mage with a trembling hand.
“Nobody ever died by violence in this town until you entered it!”
“Don’t be a fool,” said Raistlin. He glanced again at the corpse. “The man obviously died while on his way to the meeting. I was with Councillor Shavas the entire time.”
“Mages can get others to do their dark deeds for them, or so I’ve heard,” said Lord Cal grimly. “Others— like
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their familiars! Like giant cats!”
The councillor shot Cal a look so filled with venom that Caramon took a step back to avoid being poisoned by the glare.
Raistlin turned. “Perhaps I should leave your city to its own devices—”
“I’m sure that will not be necessary, Raistlin,” Shavas said. Gliding over to the mage, she put a hand on his robed shoulder, keeping her eyes averted from the horror on the ground. “Isn’t that correct, Lord Cal?”
The lord tensed, as if afraid of some veiled threat. Clearing his throat, he said, “No, of course not.”
Shavas slumped, letting her body sag against Raistlin’s. He put his arm around her, supporting her.
“Raistlin!” said Earwig urgently.
“Not now!” The mage didn’t even glance at the kender. He and Shavas whispered together softly.
Caramon watched his brother and the councillor, feeling something hot and angry stir deep inside him. Raistlin hated to be touched! And here he was, holding Shavas! How could he do this to me? the warrior demanded inwardly in frustration.
He was about to say something, he didn’t know for certain what, when he saw a cat move out from under a bush to stand next to a tree. The animal was regarding him with bright eyes that shone red in the torchlight. Caramon beckoned, and the cat darted forward. Standing on its hind paws, it clawed at his leg.