his battlesword clanking against his flabby thighs. I do not
regret the past. I was given a terrible choice and I made it.
Who questions the gods? They demanded a sword. I found
one. And – like all swords – it was two-edged.
Caramon and his group had arrived at the outer gate. There
were no guards. A tiny silver bell rang in Par-Salian’s quarters.
The old mage raised his hand. The gates swung open.
It was twilight when they entered the outer gates of the
Tower of High Sorcery. Tas glanced around, startled. It had
been morning only moments ago. Or at least it seemed like it
had been morning! Looking up, he could see red rays streaking
across the sky, gleaming eerily off the polished stone walls of
the Tower.
Tas shook his head. “How does anyone tell time around
here?” he asked himself. He stood in a vast courtyard bounded
by the outer walls and the inner two towers. The courtyard was
stark and barren. Paved with gray flagstone, it looked cold and
unlovely. No flowers grew, no trees broke the unrelieved
monotony of the gray stone. And it was empty, Tas noticed in
disappointment. There was absolutely no one around, no one
in sight.
Or was there? Tas caught a glimpse of movement out of the
corner of his eye, a flutter of white. Turning quickly, however,
he was amazed to see it was gone! No one was there. And then,
he saw, out of the corner of the other eye, a face and a hand and
a red robed sleeve. He looked at it directly – and it was gone!
Suddenly, Tas had the impression he was surrounded by peo-
ple, coming and going, talking, or just sitting and staring, even
sleeping! Yet – the courtyard was still silent, still empty.
“These must be mages taking the Test!” Tas said in awe.
“Raistlin told me they traveled all over, but I never imagined
anything like this! I wonder if they can see me? Do you suppose
I could touch one, Caramon, if I – Caramon?”
Tas blinked. Caramon was gone! Bupu was gone! The white-
robed figures and Lady Crysania were gone. He was alone!
Not for long. There was a flash of yellow light, a most horri-
ble smell, and a black-robed mage stood towering before him.
The mage extended a hand, a woman’s hand.
“You have been summoned.”
Tas gulped. Slowly, he held out his hand. The woman’s fin-
gers closed over his wrist. He shivered at their cold touch.
“Perhaps I’m going to be magicked!” he said to himself
hopefully.
The courtyard, the black stone walls, the red streaks of sun-
light, the gray flagstone, all began to dissolve around Tas, run-
ning down the edges of his vision like a rain-soaked painting.
Thoroughly delighted, the kender felt the woman’s black robes
wrap around him. She tucked them up around his chin….
When Tasslehoff came to his senses, he was lying on a very
hard, very cold, stone floor. Next to him, Bupu snored bliss-
fully. Caramon was sitting up, shaking his head, trying to clear
away the cobwebs.
“Ouch.” Tas rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny kind of
accommodations, Caramon,” he grumbled, getting to his feet.
“You’d think they could at least magic up beds. And if they
want a fellow to take a nap, why don’t they just say so instead
of sending – oh -”
Hearing Tas’s voice break off in a strange sort of gurgle, Car-
amon glanced up quickly.
They were not alone.
“I know this place,” Caramon whispered.
They were in a vast chamber carved of obsidian. It was so
wide that its perimeter was lost in shadow, so high that its ceil-
ing was obscured in shadow. No pillars supported it, no lights
lit it. Yet light there was, though none could name its source. It
was a pale light, white – not yellow. Cold and cheerless, it gave
no warmth.
The last time Caramon had been in this chamber, the light
shone upon one old man, dressed in white robes, sitting by
himself in a great stone chair. This time, the light shone upon