meaning. Does one of those reflect your dreams?”
“Well, certainly, Shalafi.”Dalamar hesitated, confused. Where
was all this leading? To some information he could use and pass
on, he hoped, but how much of himself to reveal? “I -”
Raistlin cut him off. “Yes, I see I have come close to the mark.
I have discovered the heights of your ambition. Have you
never guessed at mine?”
Dalamar felt a thrill of joy surge through his body. This is
what he had been sent to discover. The young mage answered
slowly, “I have often wondered, Shalafi. You are so
powerful” – Dalamar motioned at the window where the lights
of Palanthas could be seen, shining in the night – “this city, this
land of Solamnia, this continent of Ansalon could be yours.”
“This world could be mine!” Raistlin smiled, his thin lips
parting slightly. “We have seen the lands beyond the seas,
haven’t we, apprentice. When we look into the flaming water,
we can see them and those who dwell there. To control them
would be simplicity itself -”
Raistlin rose to his feet. Walking to the window, he stared
out over the sparkling city spread out before him. Feeling his
master’s excitement, Dalamar left his chair and followed him.
“I could give you that kingdom, Dalamar,” Raistlin said
softly. His hand drew back the curtain, his eyes lingerd upon
the lights that gleamed more warmly than the stars above. “I
could give you not only rulership of your miserable kinsmen,
but control of the elves everywhere in Krynn.” Raistlin
shrugged. “I could give you my sister.”
Turning from the window, Raistlin faced Dalamar, who
watched him eagerly.
“But I care nothing for that” – Raistlin gestured, letting the
curtain fall – “nothing. My ambition goes further.”
“But, Shalafi, there is not much left if you turn down the
world.” Dalamar,faltered, not understanding. “Unless you have
seen worlds beyond this one that are hidden from my eyes….”
“Worlds beyond?” Raistlin pondered. “Interesting thought.
Perhaps someday I should consider that possibility. But, no,
that is not what I meant.” The mage paused and, with a motion
of his hand, beckoned Dalamar closer. “You have seen the great
door in the very back of the laboratory? The door of steel, with
runes of silver and of gold set within? The door without a
lock?”
“Yes, Shalafi,” Dalamar replied, feeling a chill creep over him
that not even the strange heat of Raistlin’s body so near him
could dispell.
“Do you know where that door leads?”
“Yes… Shalafi.” A whisper.
“And you know why it is not opened?”
“You cannot open it, Shalafi. Only one of great and powerful
magic and one of true holy powers may together open -” Dala-
mar stopped, his throat closing in fear, choking him.
‘Yes,” Raistlin murmured, “you understand. ‘One of true
holy powers.’ Now you know why I need her! Now you under-
stand the heights – and the depths – of my ambition.”
“This is madness!” Dalamar gasped, then lowered his eyes in
shame. “Forgive me, Shalafi, I meant no disrespect.”
“No, and you are right. It is madness, with my limited
powers.” A trace of bitterness tinged the mage’s voice. “That is
why I am about to undertake a journey.”
“Journey?” Dalamar looked up. “Where?”
“Not where – when,” Raistlin corrected. “You have heard me
speak of Fistandantilus?”
“Many times, Shalafi,” Dalamar said, his voice almost rever-
ent. “The greatest of our Order. Those are his spellbooks, the
ones with the nightblue binding.”
“Inadequate,” Raistlin muttered, dismissing the entire library
with a gesture. “I have read them all, many times in these past
years, ever since I obtained the Key to their secrets from the
Queen of Darkness herself. But they only frustrate me!” Raist-
lin clenched his thin hand. “I read these spellbooks and I find
great gaps – entire volumes missing! Perhaps they were
destroyed in the Cataclysm or, later, in the Dwarfgate Wars
that proved Fistandantilus’s undoing. These missing volumes,
this knowledge of his that has been lost, will give me the power
I need!”
“And so your journey will take you -” Dalamar stopped in
disbelief.
“Back in time,” Raistlin finished calmly. “Back to the days