Reaching the end, Raistlin brought his index fingers to his lips. It was of interest, certainly, but it wasn’t in the least magical. What had caused it to respond to his spell? “I have never come across anything like this before. And what am I to believe? The legends of the city or the facts in this book?”
He replaced the text on the shelf, going to the next of the three he had discovered. Lifting his hand to the top shelf, he noticed another book on the ledge.
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Buotrjens Majene
The title was Tarn’s Half-Elven.
“Fascinating, but, unfortunately, not important,” Raistlin remarked.
Taking the text he originally wanted back to the table, he lifted the black, fraying cover and turned to the opening page.
The Accounts of the Mage AH Azra of the Shining Planes—The City of the White Stone.
“Ah!” Raistlin breathed in excitement. The tales of the supposedly mad wizard Ali Azra of the mythical Shining Planes were among his favorites, combining magical text with entertaining stories. He had read them against the commands of his masters, who maintained that the information was too advanced and dangerous for a young mage’s comprehension. But that had never stopped Raistlin, who found Azra’s techniques fascinating, though his style was rather irritating.
Long have I studied the stones of Mereklar, longer even than when I studied the Pillars of Isclangaard.
Raistlin smiled at the mention of Isclangaard. The chronicle was the first he had ever read.
And like the pillars, many fantastic things have I learned, which I now lay down upon these pages for my children to know. Among my children I list— Raistlin skipped ahead. Ali Azra never failed to list every one of his pupils. The mage flipped pages until he found the first chapter heading.
The Walls: Symbols of Purity. The walls of the fantastic and wonderful city of Mereklar surround the land with three great barriers against evil. The white marble is a warning to those who would bring harm upon the inhabitants. Inscribed on the Walls of the Fantastic and Wonderful City of Mereklar are the legends and tales of the world, Krynn, and other places that
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DRAQONIANCE Pneluoes
even}, the Great and Powerful Mage AH Azra. must confess I have only glimpsed briefly, hardly long enough to give full and accurate accountings, as I am sure you, gentle reader, would desire.
Raistlin scowled. “Gentle reader” was a term he detested.
When you follow in my illustrious footsteps, as I am sure you shall, wanting to become more familiar with my greatness, desiring to taste of the power which I now freely command, you will find that the Walls of the Fantastic and Wonderful the City of Mereklar cannot be scratched by any force, and no spell, of good intent or evil, can affect it. “Why is this” you ask, and ask you should, for in the knowing there is power. Let it be known that I, the Great and Powerful Mage AH Azra, know the origins of the City of Mereklar, and they are that the Incomparable Gods of Good, among them numbered Pala-dine, Majere, and Mishakal, with whom I have had the pleasure of conversing, sent the city to the land, commanding that it not be harmed by element or man.
“All right, all right!” Raistlin muttered impatiently. “If the gods of good did create Mereklar, what was their purpose?” The magician read further into the book, hoping to discover an answer to his question. However, he learned nothing of interest, merely accounts of Azra’s journeys and wanderings, occasionally mentioning the city, though without giving any useful information. The wizard hadn’t even bothered to include a useful spell.
Slamming shut the account of the mad mage, Raistlin placed it back on the shelf. Going to the third and final text, he pulled out a volume covered in red velvet, darkened by age. The title was simple, Arcanus, a name found on many magical treatises. Walking back to the table, Raistlin opened to the first page, and his eyes widened as he beheld a spiral of runes, burned into the page, the sigla surrounded by the yellow discolorations of heat.
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Bnolrjerts Majeue