content to sit and watch the world pass by. I want to shape it,
control it, mold it!”
Held fast by Raistlin’s burning gaze, Crysania could not
move or utter a word. How could he know? she asked herself,
terrified. Can he read the secrets of my heart?
“Is that evil, Lady Crysania?” Raistlin repeated gently, insis-
tently.
Slowly, Crysania shook her head. Slowly, she raised her
hand to her throbbing temples. No, it wasn’t evil. Not the way
he spoke of it, but something wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t
think. She was too confused. All that kept running through her
mind was: How alike we are, he and I!
He was silent, waiting for her to speak. She had to say some-
thing. Hurriedly, she took a gulp of wine to give herself time to
collect her scattered thoughts.
“Perhaps I do have those desires,” she said, struggling to find
the words, “but, if so, my ambition is not for myself. I use my
skills and talents for others, to help others. I use it for the
church -”
“The church!” Raistlin sneered.
Crysania’s confusion vanished, replaced by cold anger. “Yes,”
she replied, feeling herself on safe and secure ground, sur-
rounded by the bastion of her faith. “It was the power of good,
the power of Paladine, that drove away the evil in the world. It
is that power I seek. That power that -”
“Drove away the evil?” Raistlin interrupted.
Crysania blinked. Her thoughts had carried her forward.
She hadn’t even been totally aware-of what she was saying.
“Why, yes -”
“But evil and suffering still remain in the world,” Raistlin per-
sisted.
“Because of such as you!” Crysania cried passionately.
“Ah, no, Revered Daughter,” Raistlin said. “Not through any
act of mine. Look -” He motioned her near with one hand,
while with the other he reached once again into the secret pock-
ets of his robe.
Suddenly wary and suspicious, Crysania did not move, star-
ing at the object he drew forth. It was a small, round piece of
crystal, swirling with color, very like a child’s marble. Lifting a
silver stand from where it stood on a corner of his desk, Raistlin
placed the marble on top of it. The thing appeared ludicrous,
much too small for the ornate stand. Then Crysania gasped.
The marble was growing! Or perhaps she was shrinking! She
couldn’t be certain. But the glass globe was now the right size
and rested comfortably upon the silver stand.
“Look into it,” Raistlin said softly.
“No,” Crysania drew back, staring fearfully at the globe.
“What is that?”
“A dragon orb,” Raistlin replied, his gaze holding her fast. “It
is the only one left on Krynn. It obeys my commands. I will not
allow you to come to harm. Look inside the orb, Lady
Crysania – unless you fear the truth.”
“How do I know it will show me the truth?” Crysania
demanded, her voice shaking. “How do I know it won’t show
me just what you tell it to show me?”
“If you know the way the dragons orbs were made long ago,”
Raistlin replied, “you know they were created by all three of
the Robes – the White, the Black, and the Red. They are not
tools of evil, they are not tools of good. They are everything
and nothing. You wear the medallion of Paladine” – the sar-
casm had returned – “and you are strong in your faith. Could I
force you to see what you did not want to see?”
“What will I see?” Crysania whispered, curiosity and a
strange fascination drawing her near the desk.
“Only what your eyes have seen, but refused to look at.”
Raistlin placed his thin fingers upon the glass, chanting
words of command. Hesitantly, Crysania leaned over the desk
and looked into the dragon orb. At first she saw nothing inside
the glass globe but a faint swirling green color. Then she drew
back. There were hands inside the orb! Hands that were reach-
ing out….
“Do not fear,” murmured Raistlin. “The hands come for me.”
And, indeed, even as he spoke, Crysania saw the hands
inside the orb reach out and touch Raistlin’s hands. The image