and hungry. The Shoikan Grove shakes the nerves of the most
stalwart. Only one other person has successfully passed
through its borders, with my help, of course. I expected you to
do well, but I must admit I was a bit surprised at the courage of
Lady Crysania -”
“Lady Crysania!” Kitiara repeated, stunned. “A Revered
Daughter of Paladine! You allowed her – here?”
“I not only allowed her, I invited her,” Raistlin answered
imperturbably. “Without that invitation and a charm of ward-
ing, of course, she could never have passed.”
“And she came?”
“Oh, quite eagerly, I assure you.” Now it was Raistlin who
paused. They stood outside the entrance to the Tower of High
Sorcery. Torchlight from the windows shone upon his face. Kit-
iara could see it clearly. The lips were twisted in a smile, his flat
golden eyes shone cold and brittle as winter sunlight. “Quite
eagerly,” he repeated softly.
Kitiara began to laugh.
Late that night, after the two moons had set, in the still dark
hours before the dawn, Kitiara sat in Raistlin’s study, a glass of
dark-red wine in her hands, her brows creased in a frown.
The study was comfortable, or so it seemed to look upon.
Large, plush chairs of the best fabric and finest construction
stood upon hand-woven carpets only the wealthiest people in
Krynn could afford to own. Decorated with woven pictures of
fanciful beasts and colorful flowers, they drew the eye, tempt-
ing the viewer to lose himself for long hours in their beauty.
Carved wooden tables stood here and there, objects rare and
beautiful – or rare and ghastly – ornamented the room.
But its predominant feature were the books. It was lined with
deep wooden shelves, holding hundreds and hundreds of
books. Many were similar in appearance, all bound with a
nightblue binding, decorated with runes of silver. It was a com-
fortable room, but, despite a roaring fire blazing in a huge,
gaping fireplace at one end of the study, there was a bone-
chilling cold in the air. Kitiara was not certain, but she had the
feeling it came from the books.
Lord Soth stood far from the fire’s light, hidden in the
shadows. Kit could not see him, but she was aware of his
presence – as was Raistlin. The mage sat opposite his half-sister
in a large chair behind a gigantic desk of black wood, carved so
cunningly that the creatures decorating it seemed to watch Kiti-
ara with their wooden eyes.
Squirming uncomfortably, she drank her wine, too fast.
Although well accustomed to strong drink, she was beginning
to feel giddy, and she hated that feeling. It meant she was losing
control. Angrily, she thrust the glass away from her, deter-
mined to drink no more.
“This plan of yours is crazy!” she told Raistlin irritably. Not
liking the gaze of those golden eyes upon her, Kitiara stood up
and began to pace the room. “It’s senseless! A waste of time.
With your help, we could rule Ansalon, you and I. In fact” –
Kitiara turned suddenly, her face alight with eagerness – “with
your power we could rule the world! We don’t need Lady Cry-
sania or our hulking brother -”
” ‘Rule the world,’ ” Raistlin repeated softly, his eyes burn-
ing. “Rule the world? You still don’t understand, do you, my
dear sister? Let me make this as plain as I know how.” Now it
was his turn to stand up. Pressing his thin hands upon the desk,
he leaned toward her, like a snake.
“I don’t give a damn about the world!” he said softly. “I could
rule it tomorrow if I wanted it! I don’t.”
“You don’t want the world.” Kit shrugged, her voice bitter
with sarcasm. “Then that leaves only -”
Kitiara almost bit her tongue. She stared at Raistlin in won-
der. In the shadows of the room, Lord Soth’s flaming eyes
blazed more brightly than the fire.
“Now you understand.” Raistlin smiled in satisfaction and
resumed his seat once more. “Now you see the importance of
this Revered Daughter of Paladine! It was fate brought her to
me, just when I was nearing the time for my journey.”