Raistlin stared at her; then he asked slowly, “How did they die?”
“The Nightlord sent the Black Ghost.” She shuddered. “It was a horrible sight. All three of the old men lying in their beds, their bodies sucked dry—”
Raistlin shook his head. “That seems unlikely to me. Why didn’t the Nightlord arrest them? Torture them? Ask them about their accomplices?”
“Do I look like the Nightlord to you?” Iolanthe snapped. She began pacing again. “It is only a matter of time before they find out where you live. The Nightlord’s guards will be here to question you, perhaps even arrest you. I must place you somewhere safe, out of his reach.”
She kept walking, kept beating her hand into her palm. Suddenly she turned to him. “You said you traveled here using the corridors of magic. Your door was locked. You never picked up your key, did you?”
“No, I came directly into my room.”
“Good! You’re coming with me.”
“Where?” asked Raistlin.
“The Red Mansion. You never used your key. Talent Orren can testify to that. No one saw you enter the inn. You can say you spent the night working late. I will vouch for you, and so will Ariakas.”
“Why should he do that?” Raistlin asked, frowning.
“To tweak the Nightlord’s nose, if for no other reason. The Emperor is not in a good mood, and whenever something goes wrong, he blames the clerics. Luckily for you, your sister, Kitiara, is back in favor. He had a meeting with her that went well apparently. He’ll be glad to assist her little brother. You had best bring the Staff of Magius. They’ll search your room, of course.”
As she spoke, she was making up his bed so that it would look as if he had not slept in it.
“Where is this mansion?” he asked.
“Near the camp of the Red Dragonarmy. Outside the city walls, which is another good point. The Nerakan Guard sealed the gates after the murder. No one is allowed in or out. Therefore, if you were out, you were not in. And if you were in, you could not have gotten out.”
Raistlin considered her plan and decided it was a good one. Besides, he had been wanting a chance to meet with Ariakas. Perhaps the Emperor would make him an offer. Raistlin was still open to all possibilities. He tied his pouches containing his spell components to his belt.
“Got all your ‘marbles’?” Iolanthe asked with a sly smile. “The draconians didn’t confiscate any of them, did they? I heard they cast spells to search for magical artifacts.”
“No, they did not take them,” Raistlin replied. “They are, after all, only marbles.”
Iolanthe grinned at him. “If you say so.”
She reached into one of her pouches and brought forth what appeared to be a glob of black clay. Clasping the clay in her hands, she rolled it between her palms until it was soft, all the while muttering words of magic beneath her breath. Raistlin tried his best to hear them, but she was careful to keep her voice low. When she had finished her chanting, she flung the clay onto the wall. The clay stuck to the surface, then began to grow, looking very much like fast-rising bread dough. The black clay expanded, flowing over the wall until it covered a surface as large as Iolanthe was tall.
She spoke a single word of magic, and the clay dissolved, as did the wall. A corridor leading through time and space opened before them.
“The goo cost me a fortune,” said Iolanthe. She clasped hold of Raistlin’s wrist. He tried instinctively to pull away, but she tightened her grip.
“You really don’t like to be touched, do you?” she said softly. “You don’t like letting people get too close.”
“I’ve just heard what happens to those who get too close to you, madam,” said Raistlin coldly. “You know as well as I do, those old men were not involved in the murder.”
“Listen to me, Raistlin Majere,” said Iolanthe, drawing so near him, he could feel her breath on his cheek. “There were five black-robed wizards in this city last night. Only five. No more. I know where I was. I know where those three fools in the Tower were. That leaves one unaccounted for. You, my friend. What I did, I did to save your golden hide.”
“It could have been someone masquerading as a Black Robe,” Raistlin said. “Or some Black Robe who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and is perfectly innocent.”
“It could have.” Iolanthe squeezed his hand. “But we both know it wasn’t. Don’t worry. You have risen in my regard. If there was ever a man who needed a knife in his ribs, it was the Adjudicator. I ask only one thing in return for my silence.”
“What is that?” Raistlin asked.
“Tell Kitiara what I am doing for you,” said Iolanthe.
She entered the magical corridor, drawing Raistlin with her. Once inside, she let go of him and reached out to grab hold of the clay and pull it off the wall, which had not, in fact, disappeared as much as become invisible. The entrance to the corridor closed behind them. A door opened in front of them. Raistlin found himself in a well-appointed and luxurious bedroom, which smelled strongly of gardenia.
“This is my room,” said Iolanthe. “You can’t stay here. It would be as much as our lives are worth if he caught me with another man.”
She steered Raistlin toward the door. Opening it a crack, she peered into the hall. “Good. No one is about. Make haste and douse that light on your staff! There is a spare room, third door on your left.”
She shoved him into the dark hallway and shut and locked her door behind him.
9
The Red Mansion. The Dark Queen.
Raistlin spent more than a week in the Red Mansion, fretting and fuming with impatience, bored out of his mind, alone and apparently forgotten. The Red Mansion, despite its name, was black in both color and mood. The building was called the Red Mansion because it was located on a cliff overlooking the camp of the Red Dragonarmy. Raistlin could stand on the portico located in the back of the mansion and look down upon row after row of tents that housed the soldiers. In the distance was the city wall and the Red Gate. Beyond that reared the ugly, twisted spires of the temple.
The mansion had been built at great expense by a high-ranking cleric of Takhisis. The Spiritor had become embroiled in a conspiracy to overthrow the Nightlord. Some said that Ariakas had been involved in that attempt and that it had failed because he had switched sides at the last moment, and betrayed his comrades.
No one knew if that tale was true or not. All anyone knew was that one night the Spiritor had disappeared from his fine mansion and the next day Ariakas had moved in. The mansion was constructed of black marble and was very grand and very dark and very cold. Raistlin spent his time either in the library, studying the many spell-books he found there, or roaming the halls, waiting for an audience with the Emperor.
Iolanthe assured Raistlin that she had spoken to Ariakas on Raistlin’s behalf. She said Ariakas was eager to meet the brother of his dear friend Kitiara and would most certainly find a place for him.
Apparently, Ariakas was able to contain his eagerness. He spent very little time in the mansion, preferring to work in his command post located in the camp of the Red Dragonarmy. Raistlin encountered him only in passing. The Emperor did not even glance at him.
After seeing the man and hearing people talk about him, Raistlin wasn’t sure he wanted to be introduced, much less serve him. Ariakas was a large man of powerful build, proud of his brute strength and accustomed to using his size to intimidate. He was highly skilled with sword and spear and had the ability to lead and inspire his soldiers. He was an effective military commander and, as such, had proved himself useful to his Queen.
Ariakas should have been content with commanding the fighting of her war, but his ambition had prompted him to leave the relative safety of the battlefield and enter the far more dangerous and deadly arena of politics. He had demanded the Crown of Power, and Takhisis had granted his wish. That had been a mistake.