Tanis spread the map out. Everyone gathered around it, even Flint. After one look however, the dwarf snorted derisively and walked back to his couch.
Tanis laughed ruefully. “We might have expected it. I wonder if the great Phudge remembers where the ‘big secret room’ is?”
“Of course not.” Raistlin sat up, opening his strange, golden eyes and peering at them through half-closed lids. “That is why he has never returned for the treasure. However, there is one among us who knows where the dragon’s lair is located.” Everyone followed the mage’s gaze.
Bupu glared back at them defiantly. “You right. I know,” she said, sulking. “I know secret place. I go there, find pretty rocks But don’t tell Highbulp!”
“Will you tell us?” Tanis asked. Bupu looked at Raistlin. He nodded.
“I tell,” she mumbled. “Give map.”
Raistlin, seeing the others engrossed in looking at the map, beckoned to his brother.
“Is the plan still the same?” the mage whispered.
“Yes.” Caramon frowned. “And I don’t like it. I should go with you.”
“Nonsense,” Raistlin hissed. “You would only be in my way!”
Then he added more gently, “I will be in no danger, I assure you.” He laid his hand on his twin’s arm and drew him close.
“Besides”-the mage glanced around-“there is something you must do for me, my brother. Something you must bring me from the dragon’s lair.”
Raistlin’s touch was unusually hot, his eyes burned. Caramon uneasily started to pull back, seeing something in his brother he hadn’t seen since the Towers of High Sorcery, but Raistlin’s hand clutched at him.
“What is it?” Caramon asked reluctantly.
“A spellbook!” Raistlin whispered.
“So this is why you wanted to come to Xak Tsaroth!” said Caramon. “You knew this spellbook would be here.”
“I read about it, years ago. I knew it had been in Xak Tsaroth prior to the Cataclysm, all of the Order knew it, but we assumed it had been destroyed with the city. When I found out Xak Tsaroth had escaped destruction, I realized there might be a chance the book had survived!”
“How do you know it’s in the dragon’s lair?”
“I don’t. I am merely surmising. To magic-users, this book is Xak Tsaroth’s greatest treasure. You may be certain that if the dragon found it, she is using it!”
“And you want me to get it for you,” Caramon said slowly. “What does it look like?”
“Like my spellbook, of course, except the bone-white parchment is bound in night-blue leather with runes of silver stamped on the front. It will feel deathly cold to the touch.”
“What do the runes say?”
“You do not want to know. . .” Raistlin whispered.
“Whose book was it?” Caramon asked suspiciously.
Raistlin fell silent, his golden eyes abstracted as if he were searching inwardly, trying to remember something forgotten.
“You have never heard of him, my brother,” he said finally, in a whisper that forced Caramon to lean closer. “Yet he was one of the greatest of my order. His name was Fistandantilus.”
“The way you describe the spellbook-” Caramon hesitated, fearing what Raistlin would reply. He swallowed and started over. “This Fistandantilus-did he wear the Black Robes?” He could not meet his brother’s piercing gaze.
“Ask me no more!” Raistlin hissed. “You are as bad as the others! How can any of you understand me!” Seeing his twin’s look of pain, the mage sighed. “Trust me, Caramon. It is not a particularly powerful spellbook-one of the mage’s early books, in fact. One he had when he was very young, very young indeed,” Raistlin murmured, staring far off. Then he blinked and said more briskly, “But it will be valuable to me nonetheless. You must get it! You must-” He started to cough.
“Sure, Raist,” Caramon promised, soothing his brother.
“Don’t get worked up. I’ll find it.”
“Good Caramon. Excellent Caramon,” Raistlin whispered when he could speak. He sank back into the corner and closed his eyes. “Now let me rest. I must be ready.”
Caramon stood up, looked at his brother a moment, then he turned around and nearly fell over Bupu who was standing behind him, gazing up at him suspiciously with wide eyes.