He should have won the war with a few swift and brutal, crushing blows, ending it before the good dragons entered to fight on the side of Light. He should have taken the High Clerist’s Tower before the knights could reinforce it. He should have relied on dragons, who could attack from the air, where they had the advantage, and far less on ground troops. And he should not have allowed Kitiara to ally herself with the powerful Lord Soth.
Takhisis was undoubtedly regretting having chosen Ariakas to lead her dragonarmies. Kitiara seemed to feel Her Dark Majesty’s hand on her shoulder, pushing her toward the throne, urging her to take the Crown of Power.
Strange … Kitiara really did feel a hand on her shoulder.
“What the—”
Kitiara jumped to her feet and drew her sword all in the same swift movement. She was about to strike when she saw who it was. “You!” she gasped.
“The monumental fool,” said Raistlin.
Kitiara held her sword poised and regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Why are you here? Why have you come?”
“Not to kill you, my sister, if that’s what you fear. You were going to kill me, that is true, but I am willing to put our quarrel down to sibling rivalry.”
Kitiara smiled, though she did not sheathe her sword.
“I’ll keep my weapon handy just in case you feel the stirrings of sibling rivalry. So why are you here, Baby brother? You are in danger. You’ve made powerful enemies. The Emperor wants you dead. A goddess wants you dead!” Kit shook her head. “If you’re expecting me to protect you, there’s nothing I can do.”
“I expect nothing from you, my sister. I came with something for you.”
Raistlin stood with his hands hidden in the sleeves of his robes, his cowl thrown back. The lantern light flickered in the strange hourglass eyes.
“You want the Crown of Power,” he told her. “I can help you take it.”
“You are mistaken,” said Kitiara gravely. “Ariakas is my Emperor. I am his loyal subject.”
“And I am the king of the elves,” said Raistlin with a sneer. Kitiara’s lips twitched. “In truth, I am concerned for the Emperor’s health.”
She ran her index finger along the groove in the sword that allowed the blood to run down the blade and keep from fouling it. “Ariakas wears himself out with affairs of state. He should take a rest … a long, long rest. So what do you have in mind? How can you help me?”
“I have many arrows in my quiver,” said Raistlin coolly. “Which I choose to use will depend on the circumstances in which I choose to use it.”
“You blather like the king of the elves,” said Kit irritably. “You won’t tell me because you do not trust me.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t, my sister, otherwise I would be dead by now,” Raistlin said dryly.
Kitiara stared at him a moment; then she sheathed her sword and resumed her seat. “Let us say I accept your offer. You help make me Emperor. What do you expect in return?”
“The Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas.”
Kitiara was astonished. “That monstrosity? It’s cursed! Why would you want that?”
Raistlin smiled. “This from the woman who lives in Dargaard Keep.”
“Not for long,” Kitiara said. “You can have your cursed Tower. I don’t suppose anyone else would want it.” She put her elbows on the table and regarded him expectantly. “What is your plan?”
“You must get me inside the Temple tomorrow when the council meets.”
Kitiara stared at him. “You are a monumental fool! You might as well just walk into a dungeon cell and lock yourself up and be done with it. All your enemies will be there, including Queen Takhisis! If she or any of them discovered you, you would not survive long enough for death to rattle in your throat.”
“I have the ability to conceal myself from my mortal enemies. As for the immortal, you must persuade Takhisis that I am of more use to her alive than dead.”
Kit snorted. “You thwarted her plot to destroy the gods. You betrayed her trust on more than one occasion. What could I possibly say to convince Takhisis to let you live?”
“I know where to find Berem Everman.”
Kitiara caught her breath. She gazed at him in disbelief, and then she leaped to her feet and seized hold of his arms. He was bone and skin, no muscle, and she was reminded of the sickly, little boy she had helped to raise. As if he were that little boy, she gave him an impatient shake.
“You know where Berem is? Tell me!”
“Do we have a bargain?” Raistlin countered.
“Yes, yes, we have a bargain, damn you! I’ll find a way to get you inside the temple, and I’ll talk to the Queen. Now—tell me, where is the Everman?”
“Our mother gave birth to only one fool, my sister, and that was Caramon. If I tell you now, what is to prevent you from killing me? To find Berem, you must keep me alive.”
Kitiara gave him a shove that nearly knocked him down. “You’re lying! You have no idea where Berem is! Our deal is off.”
Raistlin shrugged and turned to go.
“Wait! Stop!” Kitiara gnawed her lip and glared at him. Finally she said, “Why should I go along with you?”
“Because you want the Crown of Power. And Ariakas wears it. I have read about this crown, and I know how the magic works. Anyone who wears the crown is invincible to—”
“I know all that!” Kitiara interrupted impatiently. “I don’t need a damn book to tell me.”
“I was about to say the crown is ‘invincible to physical attacks and most types of ordinary, magical assaults,’” Raistlin finished coolly.
Kitiara frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“I have never been ‘ordinary,’” said Raistlin.
Kitiara’s eyes gleamed beneath her long, dark lashes. “We have a deal, Baby brother. Tomorrow will be a momentous day in the history of Krynn.”
13
The Spiritor. Temple of the Dark Queen.
The sun rose, bloodshot and bleary eyed and sullen after a night of drunken chaos. The gutters of the streets of Neraka ran red with blood in the predawn hours of that momentous day, and yet the enemy was nowhere in sight. The forces of the Dragon Highlords were fighting among themselves.
Since the Emperor had been late in arriving, the troops of the other Highlords had been forbidden to enter the city of Neraka, which meant they were forbidden to partake of Neraka’s ale and dwarf spirits and other pleasures. The soldiers, many of whom had been forced-marched in order to reach Neraka in time, had made the march and endured the floggings, the putrid water, and the bad food because they were promised a holiday in Neraka. When they were told that they could not enter the city and they had to keep eating the same bad food and drink nothing but water, they mutinied.
Two Highlords, Lucien of Takar, half-ogre leader of the Black Dragonarmy, and Salah-Kahn, leader of the Green, had been waging their own private war for a month; each wanted to extend his holdings into the other’s territory. The humans of Khur, under the leadership of Salah-Kahn, had always hated the ogres, who, for their part, had always hated the humans. The two races had become reluctant allies in the war, but with the war going badly, every Highlord was looking out for himself. When fights broke out among their troops, each blamed the other and neither did anything to stop the fighting.
The White Dragonarmy was in the worst state, for the army had no leader. The hobgoblin Toede, who held that position, had not shown up for the meeting, and rumor had it that he was dead. Draconian and human commanders began fighting among themselves for leadership, each hoping to ingratiate himself with the Emperor and no one doing anything to maintain discipline and order in the ranks.