“The people of Palanthas gathered around the Tower as the highest of the Order-the Wizard of the White Robes-closed the Tower’s slender gates of gold and locked them with a silver key. The Lord of Palanthas watched him eagerly. All knew the Lord intended to move into the Tower, as his mentor-the Kingpriest of Istar-had done. His eyes lingered greedily on the Tower, for legends of the wonders within-both fair and evil- had spread throughout the land.”
“Of all the beautiful buildings in Palanthas,” murmured Lord Amothus, “the Tower of High Sorcery was said to be the most splendid. And now. . . .”
“What happened?” asked Laurana, feeling chilled as the darkness of night crept through the room, wishing someone would summon the servants to light the candles.
‘The Wizard started to hand the silver key to the Lord,” continued Astinus in a deep, sad voice. “Suddenly, one of the Black Robes appeared in a window in the upper stories. As the people stared at him in horror, he shouted, ‘The gates will remain closed and the halls empty until the day comes when the master of both the past and the present returns with power!’ Then the evil mage leaped out, hurling himself down upon the gates. And as the barbs of silver and of gold pierced the black robes, he cast a curse upon the Tower. His blood stained the ground, the silver and golden gates withered and twisted and turned to black. The shimmering tower of white and red faded to ice gray stone, its black minarets crumbled.
‘The Lord and the people fled in terror and, to this day, no one dares approach the Tower of Palanthas. Not even kender”-Astinus smiled briefly-“who fear nothing in this world. The curse is so powerful it keeps away all mortals-”
“Until the master of past and present returns,” Laurana murmured.
“Bah! The man was mad.” Lord Amothus sniffed. “No man is master of past and present-unless it be you, Astinus.”
“I am not master!” Astinus said in such hollow, ringing tones that everyone in the room stared at him. “I remember the past, I record the present. I do not seek to dominate either!”
“Mad, like I said.” The Lord shrugged. “And now we are forced to endure an eyesore like the Tower because no one can stand to live around it or get close enough to tear it down.”
“I think to tear it down would be a shame,” Laurana said softly, gazing at the Tower through the window. “It belongs here. . . .”
“Indeed it does, young woman,” Astinus replied, regarding her strangely.
Night’s shadows had deepened as Astinus talked. Soon the Tower was shrouded in darkness while lights sparkled in the rest of the city. Palanthas seemed to be trying to out-glitter the stars, thought Laurana, but a round patch of blackness will remain always in its center.
“How sad and how tragic,” she murmured, feeling that she must say something, since Astinus was staring straight at her. “And that-that dark thing I saw fluttering, pinned to the fence-” She stopped in horror.
“Mad, mad,” repeated Lord Amothus gloomily. “Yes, that is what’s left of the body, so we suppose. No one has been able to get close enough to find out.”
Laurana shuddered. Putting her hands to her aching head, she knew that this grim story would haunt her for nights, and she wished she’d never heard it. Bound up in her destiny! Angrily she put the thought out of her mind. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have time for this. Her destiny looked bleak enough without adding nightmarish nursery tales.
As if reading her thoughts, Astinus suddenly rose to his feet and called for more light.
“For,” he said coldly, staring at Laurana, “the past is lost. Your future is your own. And we have a great deal of work to do before morning.”
Commander of the knights of Solamnia stood, “First, I must read a communiqué I received from Lord Gunthar only a few hours ago.” The Lord of Palanthas withdrew a scroll from the folds of his finely woven, woolen robes and spread it on the table, smoothing it carefully with his hands. Leaning his head back, he peered at it, obviously trying to bring it into focus.
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