whispered. “I don’t know who I serve anymore, if anyone.” He
raised his dark eyes, and their haunted look made Tas’s heart
ache. “But I know this – if any of you came and tried to enter
the Tower while he was gone, I would kill you. That much loy-
alty I owe him. Yet, I am just as frightened of him as you are. I’ll
help you, if I can.”
Par-Salian’s hands relaxed, though he still continued to
regard Dalamar sternly. “I fail to understand why Raistlin told
you of his plans? Surely he must know we will move to prevent
him from succeeding in his terrifying ambitions.”
“Because – like me – he has you where he wants you,” Dala-
mar said. Suddenly he staggered, his face pale with pain and
exhaustion. Par-Salian made a motion, and a chair material-
ized out of the shadows. The dark elf slumped into it. “You
must go along with his plans. You must send this man back into
time” – he gestured at Caramon – “along with the woman. It is
the only way he can succeed -”
“And it is the only way we can stop him,” Par-Salian said, his
voice low. “But why Lady Crysania? What possible interest
could he have in one so good, so pure -”
“So powerful,” Dalamar said with a grim smile. “From what
he has been able to gather from the writings of Fistandantilus
that still survive, he will need a cleric to go with him to face the
dread Queen. And only a cleric of good has power enough to
defy the Queen and open the Dark Door. Oh, Lady Crysania
was not the Shalafi’s first choice. He had vague plans to use the
dying Elistan – but I won’t relate that. As it turned out, how-
ever, Lady Crysania fell into his hands – one might say liter-
ally. She is good, strong in her faith, powerful -”
“And drawn to evil as a moth is drawn to the flame,” Par-
Salian murmured, looking at Crysania with deep pity.
Tas, watching Caramon, wondered if the big man was even
absorbing half of this. He had a vague, dull-witted look about
him, as if he wasn’t quite certain where – or who – he was. Tas
shook his head dubiously. They’re going to send him back in
time? the kender thought.
“Raistlin has other reasons for wanting both this woman and
his brother back in time with him, of that you may be certain,”
the red-robed mage said to Par-Salian. “He has not revealed his
game, not by any means. He has told us – through our agent –
just enough to leave us confused. I say we thwart his plans!”
Par-Salian did not reply. But, lifting his head, he stared at
Caramon for long moments and in his eyes was a sadness that
pierced Tas’s heart. Then, shaking his head, he lowered his
gaze, looking fixedly at the hem of his robes. Bupu whimpered,
and Tas patted her absently. Why that strange look at Cara-
mon? the kender wondered uneasily. Surely they wouldn’t send
him off to certain death? Yet, wasn’t that what they’d be doing
if they sent him back the way he was now – sick, depressed,
confused? Tas shifted from one foot to the other, then yawned.
No one was paying any attention to him. All this talk was bor-
ing. He was hungry, too. If they were going to send Caramon
back in time, he wished they’d just do it.
Suddenly, he felt one part of his mind (the part that was lis-
tening to Par-Salian) tug at the other part. Hurriedly, Tas
brought both parts together to listen to what was being said.
Dalamar was talking. “She spent the night in his study. I do
not know what was discussed, but I know that when she left in
the morning, she appeared distraught and shaken. His last
words to her were these, ‘Has it occurred to you that Paladine
did not send you to stop me but to help me?’ ”
“And what answer did she make?”
“She did not answer him,” Dalamar replied. “She walked
back through the Tower and then through the Grove like one