est hope – and his greatest fear. He needs to take her with him
to the Gate, but he needs her to come willingly! Thus he plans
to shake her faith, disillusion her enough so that she will work
with him.” Par-Salian waved his hand irritably. “We are wast-
ing time. He leaves in the morning. We must act at once.”
“Then keep her here!” Ladonna said scornfully. “That seems
simple enough.”
Par-Salian shook his head. “He would simply return for her.
And – by then he will have the magic. He will have the power
to do what he chooses.”
“Kill her.”
“That has been tried and failed. Besides, could even you,
with your arts, kill her while she is under Paladine’s protec-
tion!”
“Perhaps the god will prevent her going, then?”
“No. The augury I cast was neutral. Paladine has left the
matter in our hands. Crysania is nothing but a vegetable here,
nor will ever be anything more, since none alive today have the
power to restore her. Perhaps Paladine intends her to die in a
place and time where her death will have meaning so that she
may fulfill her life’s cycle.”
“So you will send her to her death,” Ladonna murmured,
looking at Par-Salian in amazement. “Your white robes will be
stained red with blood, my old friend.”
Par-Salian slammed his hands upon the table, his face con-
torted in agony. “I don’t enjoy this, damn it! But what can I do?
Can’t you see the position I’m in? Who sits now as the Head of
the Black Robes?”
“I do,” Ladonna replied.
“Who sits as the Head if he returns victorious?”
Ladonna frowned and did not answer.
“Precisely. My days are numbered, Ladonna. I know that.
Oh” – he gestured – “my powers are still great. Perhaps they
have never been greater. But every morning when I awake, I
feel the fear. Will today be the day it fails? Every time I have
trouble recalling a spell, I shiver. Someday, I know, I will not
be able to remember the correct words.” He closed his eyes. “I
am tired, Ladonna, very tired. I want to do nothing more than
stay in this room, near this warm fire, and record in these
books the knowledge I have acquired through the years. Yet I
dare not step down now, for I know who would take my place.”
The old mage sighed. “I will choose my successor, Ladonna,”
he said softly. “I will not have my position wrested from my
hands. My stake in this is greater than any of yours.”
“Perhaps not,” Ladonna said, staring at the flames. “If he
returns victorious, there will no longer be a Conclave. We shall
all be his servants.” Her hand clenched. “I still oppose this, Par-
Salian! The danger is too great! Let her remain here, let Raistlin
learn what he can from Fistandantilus. We can deal with him
when he returns! He is powerful, of course, but it will take him
years to master the arts that Fistandantilus knew when he died!
We can use that time to arm ourselves against him! We can -”
There was rustling in the shadows of the room. Ladonna
started and turned, her hand darting immediately to a hidden
pocket in her robe.
“Hold, Ladonna,” said a mild voice. “You need not waste
your energies on a shield spell. I am no Creature from Beyond,
as Par-Salian has already stated.” The figure stepped into the
light of the fire, its red robes gleaming softly.
Ladonna settled back with a sigh, but there was a glint of
anger in her eyes that would have made an apprentice start
back in alarm. “No, Justarius,” she said coolly, “you are no
Creature from Beyond. So you managed to hide yourself from
me? How clever you have become, Red Robe.” Twisting around
in her chair, she regarded Par-Salian with scorn. “You are get-
ting old, my friend, if you required help to deal with me!”
“Oh, I’m sure Par-Salian is just as surprised to see me here as
you are, Ladonna,” Justarius stated. Wrapping his red robes
around him, he walked slowly forward to sit down in another