in the big man’s hand, fearing he might collapse. Dalamar
regarded Caramon with scorn.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Didn’t you believe him capa-
ble of this’?” The dark elf shook his head in disbelief, his eyes
swept the assemblage before him. “No, you are like the rest of
them. Fools… all of you, fools!”
The mages murmured together, some voices angry, some
fearful, most questioning. Finally, Par-Salian raised his hand
for silence.
“Tell us, Dalamar, what he plans. Unless, of course, he has
forbidden you to speak of it.” There was a note of irony in the
mage’s voice that the dark elf did not miss.
“No,” Dalamar smiled grimly. “I know his plans. Enough of
them, that is. He even asked that I be certain and report them to
you accurately.”
There were muttered words and snorts of derision at this.
But Par-Salian only looked more concerned, if that were possi-
ble. “Continue,” he said, almost without voice.
Dalamar drew a breath.
“He journeys back in time, to the days just prior to the Cata-
clysm, when the great Fistandantilus was at the height of his
power. It is my Shalafi ‘s intention to meet this great mage, to
study with him, and to recover those works of Fistandantilus
we know were lost during the Cataclysm. For my Shalafi
believes, from what he has read in the spellbooks he took from
the Great Library at Palanthas, that Fistandantilus learned how
to cross the threshold that exists between god and men. Thus,
the great wizard was able to prolong his life after the Cataclysm
to fight the Dwarven Wars. Thus, he was able to survive the
terrible explosion that devastated the lands of Dergoth. Thus,
was he able to live until he found a new receptacle for his soul.”
“I don’t understand any of this! Tell me what’s going on!”
Caramon demanded, striding forward angrily. “Or I’ll tear this
place down around your miserable heads! Who is this Fistan-
dantilus? What does he have to do with my brother?”
“Shhh,” Tas said, glancing apprehensively at the mages.
“We understand, kenderken,” Par-Salian said, smiling at Tas
gently. “We understand his anger and his sorrow. And he is
right – we owe him an explanation.” The old mage sighed. “Per-
haps what I did was wrong. And yet – did I have a choice?
Where would we be today if I had not made the decision I
made?”
Tas saw Par-Salian turn to look at the mages who sat on
either side of him, and suddenly the kender realized Par-
Salian’s answer was for them as much as for Caramon. Many
had cast back their hoods and Tas could see their faces now.
Anger marked the faces of those wearing the black robes, sad-
ness and fear were reflected in the pale faces of those wearing
white. Of the red robes, one man in particular caught Tas’s
attention, mainly because his face was smooth, impassive, yet
the eyes were dark and stirring. It was the mage who had
doubted Raistlin’s power. It seemed to Tas that it was to this
man in particular that Par-Salian directed his words.
“Over seven years ago, Paladine appeared to me.” Par-
Salian’s eyes stared into the shadows. “The great god warned
me that a time of terror was going to engulf the world. The
Queen of Darkness had awakened the evil dragons and was
planning to wage war upon the people in an effort to conquer
them. ‘One among your Order you will choose to help fight
this evil,’ Paladine told me. ‘Choose well, for this person shall
be as a sword to cleave the darkness. You may tell him nothing
of what the future holds, for by his decisions, and the decisions
of others, will your world stand or fall forever into eternal
night.’ ”
Par-Salian was interrupted by angry voices, coming particu-
larly from those wearing the black robes. Par-Salian glanced at
them, his eyes flashing. Within that moment, Tas saw revealed
the power and authority that lay within the feeble old mage.
“Yes, perhaps I should have brought the matter before the
Conclave,” Par-Salian said, his voice sharp. “But I believed
then – as I believe now – that it was my decision alone. I knew