of her standing. She accepted the homage without comment.
Casting her hood aside, she swept past him into Par-Salian’s
chamber and stopped, just inside the doorway. The white-
robed mage gently shut the door behind her, leaving the two
heads of their Orders alone together.
Ladonna cast a quick, penetrating glance about the room.
Much of it was lost in shadow, the fire casting the only light.
Even the drapes had been closed, blotting out the moons’ eerie
glow. Raising her hand, Ladonna murmured a few, soft words.
Several items in the room began to gleam with a weird, reddish
light indicating that they had magical properties – a staff lean-
ing up against the wall, a crystal prism on Par-Salian’s desk, a
branched candelabra, a gigantic hourglass, and several rings
on the old man’s fingers among others. These did not seem to
alarm Ladonna, she simply looked at each and nodded. Then,
satisfied, she sat down in a chair near the desk. Par-Salian
watched her with a slight smile on his lined face.
“There are no Creatures from Beyond lurking in the corners,
Ladonna, I assure you,” the old mage said dryly. “Had I wanted
to banish you from this plane, I could have done so long ago,
my dear.”
“When we were young?” Ladonna cast aside her hood. Iron-
gray hair, woven into an intricate braid coiled about her head,
framed a face whose beauty seemed enhanced by the lines of
age that appeared to have been drawn by a masterful artist, so
well did they highlight her intelligence and dark wisdom. “That
would have been a contest indeed, Great One.”
“Drop the title, Ladonna,” Par-Salian said. “We have known
each other too long for that.”
“Known each other long and well, Par-Salian,” Ladonna said
with a smile. “Quite well,” she murmured softly, her eyes going
to the fire.
– “Would you go back to our youth, Ladonna’?” Par-Salian
asked.
She did not answer for a moment, then she looked up at him
and shrugged. “To trade power and wisdom and skill for what?
Hot blood? Not likely, my dear. What about you?”
“I would have answered the same twenty years ago,” Par-
Salian said, rubbing his temples. “But now… I wonder.”
“I did not come to relive old times, no matter how pleasant,”
Ladonna said, clearing her throat, her voice suddenly stern and
cold. “I have come to oppose this madness.” She leaned for-
ward, her dark eyes flashing. “You are not serious, I hope, Par-
Salian? Even you cannot be soft-hearted or soft-headed enough
to send that stupid human back in time to try and stop Fistan-
dantilus? Think of the danger! He could change history! We
could all cease to exist!”
“Bah! Ladonna, you think!” Par-Salian snapped. “Time is a
great flowing river, vaster and wider than any river we know.
Throw a pebble into the rushing water – does the water sud-
denly stop? Does it begin to flow backward? Does it turn in its
course and flow another direction? Of course not! The pebble
creates a few ripples on the surface, perhaps, but then it sinks.
The river flows onward, as it has ever done.”
“What are you saying?” Ladonna asked, regarding Par-
Salian warily.
“That Caramon and Crysania are pebbles, my dear. They will
no more affect the flow of time than two rocks thrown into the
Thon-Tsalarian would affect its course. They are pebbles -” he
repeated.
“We underestimate Raistlin, Dalamar says,” Ladonna inter-
rupted. “He must be fairly certain of his success, or he would
not take this risk. He is no fool, Par-Salian.”
“He is certain of acquiring the magic. In that we cannot stop
him. But that magic will be meaningless to him without the
cleric. He needs Crysania.” The white-robed mage sighed.
“And that is why we must send her back in time.”
“I fail to see -”
“She must die, Ladonna!” Par-Salian snarled. “Must I con-
jure a vision for you? She must be sent back to a time when all
clerics passed from this land. Raistlin said that we would have
to send her back. We would have no choice. As he himself
said – this is the one way we can thwart his plans! It is his great-