caught her off-balance. Angrily, she snatched her hand away
from the apprentice’s cool grip and withdrew her other hand
from Raistlin’s arm.
“The Revered Daughter has had a fatiguing journey, Dala-
mar,” Raistlin said. “Please show her to my study and pour her
a glass of wine. With your permission, Lady Crysania” – the
mage bowed – “there are a few matters that demand my atten-
tion. Dalamar, anything the lady requires, you will provide at
once.”
“Certainly, Shalafi,” Dalamar answered respectfully.
Crysania said nothing as Raistlin left, suddenly over-
whelmed with a sense of relief and a numbing exhaustion. Thus
must the warrior feel, battling for his life against a skilled oppo-
nent, she observed silently as she followed the apprentice up a
narrow, winding staircase.
Raistlin’s study was nothing like she had expected.
What had I expected, she asked herself. Certainly not this
pleasant room filled with strange and fascinating books. The
furniture was attractive and comfortable, a fire burned on the
hearth, filling the room with warmth that was welcome after
the chill of the walk to the Tower. The wine that Dalamar
poured was delicious. The warmth of the fire seemed to seep
into her blood as she drank a small sip.
Dalamar brought forward a small, ornately carved table and
set it at her right hand. Upon this, he placed a bowl of fruit and
a loaf of fragrant, still-warm bread.
“What is this fruit!” Crysania asked, picking up a piece and
examining it in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like this
before.”
“Indeed not, Revered Daughter,” Dalamar answered, smil-
ing. Unlike Raistlin, Crysania noticed, the young apprentice’s
smile was reflected in his eyes. “Shalafi has it brought to him
from the Isle of Mithas.”
“Mithas?” Crysania repeated in astonishment. “But that’s on
the other side of the world! The minotaurs live there. They
allow none to enter their kingdom! Who brings it?”
She had a sudden, terrifying vision of the servant who might
have been summoned to bring such delicacies to such a master.
Hastily, she returned the fruit to the bowl.
“Try it, Lady Crysania,” Dalamar said without a trace of
amusement in his voice. “You will find it quite delicious. The
Slalafi’s health is delicate. There are so few things he can toler-
ate. He lives on little else but this fruit, bread, and wine.”
Crysania’s fear ebbed. “Yes,” she murmured, her eyes going
to the door involuntarily. “He is dreadfully frail, isn’t he. And
that terrible cough…” Her voice was soft with pity.
“Cough? Oh, yes,” Dalamar said smoothly, “his… cough.”
He did not continue and, if Crysania thought this odd, she soon
forgot it in her contemplation of the room.
The apprentice stood a moment, waiting to see if she
required anything else. When Crysania did not speak, he
bowed. “If you need nothing more, lady, I will retire. I have my
own studies to pursue.”
“Of course. I will be fine here,” Crysania said, coming out of
her thoughts with a start. “He is your teacher, then,” she said in
sudden realization. Now it was her turn to look at Dalamar
intently. “Is he a good one! Do you learn from him?”
“He is the most gifted of any in our Order, Lady Crysania,”
Dalamar said softly. “He is brilliant, skilled, controlled. Only
one has lived who was as powerful – the great Fistandantilus.
And my Shalafi is young, only twenty-eight. If he lives, he may
well -”
“If he lives?” Crysania repeated, then felt irritated that she
had unintentionally let a note of concern creep into her voice. It
is right to feel concern, she told herself. After all, he is one of
the gods’ creatures. All life is sacred.
“The Art is fraught with danger, my lady,” Dalamar was say-
ing. “And now, if you will excuse me….”
“Certainly,” Crysania murmured.
Bowing again, Dalamar padded quietly from the room, shut-
ting the door behind him. Toying with her wine glass, Crysania
stared into the dancing flames, lost in thought. She did not hear
the door open – if indeed it did. She felt fingers touching her
hair. Shivering, she looked around, only to see Raistlin sitting
in a high-backed wooden chair behind his desk.