bench. The boy stood protectively near her, his hand on
her arm. But his gaze strayed to the red-robed magic-user.
Raistlin cast a swift glance at his brother. Seeing
Caramon preoccupied in attempting to capture the
barmaid’s attention, the mage made a slight, beckoning
gesture with his hand.
Nothing appears as sweet as fruit we are forbidden to
eat. The boy’s eyes widened. He looked around to see if
the mage meant someone else, then looked back at
Raistlin, who repeated the gesture. The boy tugged gently
at his mother’s sleeve.
“Here, now. Let your ma sleep,” scolded the barmaid,
hustling past, a tray of mugs in her hands. “Be good for a
few moments, and when I come back I’ll bring you a
treat.” She vanished into the crowd.
“Hey, there! Barmaid!” Caramon was waving his arms
and bellowing like a bull.
Raistlin cast him an irritated glance, then turned back
to the boy.
Slowly, drawn by irresistible curiosity and fascination,
the child left his mother’s side and crept over to stand near
the mage.
“Can you really do magic?” he asked, round-eyed with
wonder.
“Here, there!” Caramon, seeing the kid apparently
bothering his brother, tried to shoo him away. “Go on back
to your ma.”
“Caramon, shut up,” said Raistlin softly. He turned his
golden-eyed gaze on the boy. “Is your name Galeth?”
“Yes, sir. I was named after my grandfather. He was a
knight. I’m going to be a knight, too.”
Caramon grinned at his brother. “Reminds you of
Sturm, doesn’t he? These knights, they’re all daft,” he
added, making the mistake that most adults make in
thinking that children – because they are small – have no
feelings.
The boy flared up like dry tinder cast in the fire. “My
father’s not daft I He’s a great man!” Galeth flushed,
realizing perhaps that his father hadn’t seemed all that
great. “It’s just that he’s worried about my mother. He and
I can do without food, we’re men. But my mother …” His
lower lip began to tremble, his eyes filled with tears.
“Galeth,” said Raistlin, casting Caramon a glance that
sent the big man back to shouting for the barmaid, “would
you like to see some magic?”
The boy, too awed to speak, nodded.
“Then bring me your mother’s purse.”
“Her purse is empty, sir,” said the boy. Even though
young, he was old enough to understand that this was a
shameful thing, and his cheeks flushed.
“Bring it to me,” said Raistlin in his soft, whispering
voice.
Galeth stood a moment, undecided, torn between what
he knew he should be doing and what he longed to do.
Temptation proved too strong for his six years. Turning,
he ran back to his mother and gently, without disturbing
her rest, slipped her purse from the pocket of her gown.
He brought it back and handed it to Raistlin, who took it
in his long-fingered, delicate hands and studied it
carefully. It was a small leather bag embroidered with
golden thread, such as fine ladies use to carry their jewels.
If this one had ever had jewels in it, they had long since
been sold to buy food and clothing.
The mage turned the purse inside out and shook it. It
was lined with silk and was, as the boy said, pitifully
empty. Then, shrugging, Raistlin handed it back to the
boy. Galeth accepted it hesitantly. Where was the magic?
He began to droop a little in disappointment.
“And so you are going to be a knight like your father,”
said Raistlin.
“Yes!” The boy blinked back his tears. “Since when,
then, does a future knight tell a lie?” “I didn’t lie, sir!”
Galeth flushed. “That’s a wicked thing!” “But you said the
purse was empty. Look inside.” Startled, the boy opened
the leather bag. Whistling in astonishment, he pulled out a
coin, then gazed at Raistlin in delight.
“Go put the purse back, quietly now,” said the mage.
“And not a word to anyone about where the coin came
from, or the spell will be broken!”
“Yes, sir!” said Galeth solemnly. Scurrying back, he
slipped his mother’s purse into her pocket with the stealthy
skill of a kender. Squatting down next to her on the floor,