Seeing the knight put his weapon away, the figure at the door decided it was safe to enter, surrounded as he was by a hundred or so loyal troops. The companions saw the gray, mottled skin and red, squinting pig eyes of Fewmaster Toede.
Tasslehoff gulped and moved quickly to stand beside Tanis. "Surely he won't recognize us," Tas whispered. "It was dusk when they stopped us, asking about the staff."
Apparently Toede did not recognize them. A lot had happened in a week's time and the Fewmaster had important things stuffed in a mind already overloaded. His red eyes focused on the knight's emblems beneath Sturm's cloak. "More refugee scum from Solamnia," Toede remarked.
"Yes," Tanis lied quickly. He doubted if Toede knew of the destruction of Xak Tsaroth. He thought it highly unlikely that this fewmaster would know anything about the Disks of Mishakal. But Lord Verminaard knew of the Disks and he would soon learn of the dragon's death. Even a gully dwarf could add that one up. No one must know they came out of the east.
"We have journeyed long days from the north. We did not intend to cause trouble. These draconians started it-"
"Yes, yes," Toede said impatiently. "I've heard this before." His squinty eyes suddenly narrowed. "Hey, you!" he shouted, pointing at Raistlin. "What are you doing, skulking back there? Fetch him, lads!" The Fewmaster took a nervous step behind the door, watching Raistlin warily. Several goblins charged back, overturning benches and tables to reach the frail young man. Caramon rumbled deep in his chest. Tanis gestured to the warrior, warning him to remain calm.
"On yer feet!" one of the goblins snarled, prodding at Raistlin with a spear.
Raistlin stood slowly and carefully gathered his pouches. As he reached for his staff, the goblin grabbed hold of the mage's thin shoulder.
"Touch me not!" Raistlin hissed, drawing back. "I am magi!"
The goblin hesitated and glanced back at Toede.
"Take him!" yelled the Fewmaster, moving behind a very large goblin. "Bring him here with the others. If every man wearing red robes was a magician, this country'd be overrun with rabbits! If he won't come peaceably, stick him!"
"Maybe I'll stick him anyway," the goblin croaked. The creature held the tip of its spear up to the mage's throat, gurgling with laughter.
Again Tanis held back Caramon. "Your brother can take care of himself," he whispered swiftly.
Raistlin raised his hands, fingers spread, as though to surrender. Suddenly he spoke the words, "Kalith karan, tobanis-kar!" and pointed his fingers at the goblin. Small, brightly glowing darts made of pure white light beamed from the mage's fingertips, streaked through the air, and embedded themselves deep in the goblin's chest. The creature fell over with a shriek and lay writhing on the floor.
As the smell of burning flesh and hair filled the room, other goblins sprang forward, howling in rage.
"Don't kill him, you fools!" Toede yelled. The Fewmaster had backed clear out the door, keeping the big goblin in front of him as cover. "Lord Verminaard pays a handsome bounty for magic-users. But"-Toede was inspired-"the Lord does not pay a bounty for live kenders- only their tongues! Do that again, magician, and the kender dies!"
"What is the kender to me?" Raistlin snarled.
There was a long heartbeat of silence in the room. Tanis felt cold sweat chill him. Raistlin could certainly take care of himself! Damn the mage!
That was certainly not the answer Toede had expected either, and it left him not quite knowing what to do-especially since these big warriors still had their weapons. He looked almost pleadingly at Raistlin. The magician appeared to shrug.
"I will come peacefully," Raistlin whispered, his golden eyes gleaming. "Just do not touch me."
"No, of course not," Toede muttered. "Bring him."
The goblins, casting uneasy glances in the direction of the Fewmaster, allowed the mage to stand beside his brother.
"Is that everyone?" demanded Toede irritably. "Then take their weapons and their packs."
Tanis, hoping to avoid more trouble, pulled his bow from his shoulder and laid it and his quiver on the soot-blackened floor of the Inn. Tasslehoff quickly laid down his hoopak; the dwarf-grumbling-added his battle-axe. The others followed Tanis's lead, except Sturm, who stood, his arms folded across his chest, and-
"Please, let me keep my pack," Goldmoon said. "I have no weapons in it, nothing of value to you. I swear!"
The companions turned to face her-each remembering the precious Disks she carried. A strained, tense silence fell. Riverwind stepped in front of Goldmoon. He had laid his bow down, but he still wore his sword, as did the knight.
Suddenly Raistlin intervened. The mage had laid down his staff, his pouches of spell components, and the precious bag that contained his spellbooks. He was not worried about these-spells of protection had been laid on the books; anyone other than their owner attempting to read them would go insane; and the Staff of Magius was quite capable of taking care of itself. Raistlin held out his hands toward Goldmoon.
"Give them the pack," he said gently. "Otherwise they will kill us."
"Listen to him, my dear," called out Toede hastily. "He's an intelligent man."
"He's a traitor!" cried Goldmoon, clutching the pack.
"Give them the pack," Raistlin repeated hypnotically.
Goldmoon felt herself weakening, felt his strange power breaking her. "No!" She choked. "This is our hope-"
"It will be all right," Raistlin whispered, staring intently into her clear blue eyes. "Remember the staff? Remember when I touched it?"
Goldmoon blinked. "Yes," she murmured. "It shocked you-"
"Hush," Raistlin warned swiftly. "Give them the pouch. Do not worry. All will be well. The gods protect their own."
Goldmoon stared at the mage, then nodded reluctantly.
Raistlin reached out his thin hands to take the pouch from her.
Fewmaster Toede stared at it greedily, wondering what was in it. He would find out, but not in front of all these goblins.
Finally there was only one person left who had not obeyed the command. Sturm stood unmoving, his face pale, his eyes glittering feverishly. He held his father's ancient, two-handed sword tightly. Suddenly Sturm turned, shocked to feel Raistlin's burning fingers on his arm.
"I will insure its safety," the mage whispered.
"How?" the knight asked, withdrawing from Raistlin's touch as from a poisonous snake.
"I do not explain my ways to you," Raistlin hissed. "Trust me or not, as you choose."
Sturm hesitated.
"This is ridiculous!" shrieked Toede. "Kill the knight! Kill them if they cause more trouble. I'm losing sleep!"
"Very well!" Sturm said in a strangled voice. Walking over, he reverently laid the sword down on the pile of weapons. Its ancient silver scabbard, decorated with the kingfisher and rose, gleamed in the light.
"Ah, truly a beautiful weapon," Toede said. He had a sudden vision of himself walking into audience with Lord Verminaard, the sword of a Solamnic knight hanging at his side. "Perhaps I should take that into custody myself. Bring it-"
Before he could finish, Raistlin stepped forward swiftly and knelt beside the pile of weapons. A bright flash of light sprang from the mage's hand. Raistlin closed his eyes and began to murmur strange words, holding his outstretched hands above the weapons and packs.
"Stop him!" yelled Toede. But none dared.
Finally Raistlin ceased speaking and his head slumped forward. His brother hurried to help.
Raistlin stood. "Know this!" the mage said, his golden eyes staring around the common room. "I have cast a spell upon our belongings. Anyone who touches them will be slowly devoured by the great worm, Catyrpelius, who will rise from the Abyss and suck the blood from your veins until you are nothing more than a dried husk."