Lorac’s hand slipped from his daughter’s grasp. His lifeless eyes stared out into the tormented land of Silvanesti. But the look of horror on his face faded away, leaving it filled with peace.
And Alhana could not grieve.
That night, the companions prepared to leave Silvanesti. They were to travel under the cover of darkness for much of their journey north, since by now they knew the dragonarmies controlled the lands they must pass through. They had no maps to guide them. They feared trusting ancient maps anymore, after their experience with the landlocked seaport city, Tarsis. But the only maps that could be found in Silvanesti dated back thousands of years. The companions decided to travel north from Silvanesti blindly, with some hope of discovering a seaport where they could find passage to Sancrist.
They traveled lightly, so they could travel swiftly. Besides, there was little to take; the elves had stripped their country bare of food and supplies when they left.
The mage took possession of the dragon orb—a charge no one disputed him. Tanis at first despaired of how they could carry the massive crystal with them—it was nearly two feet in diameter and extraordinarily heavy. But the evening before they left, Alhana came to Raistlin, a small sack in her hand.
‘My father carried the orb in this sack. I always thought it odd, considering the orb’s size, but he said the sack was given to him in the Tower of High Sorcery. Perhaps this will help you.’
The mage reached out his thin hand to grasp it eagerly.
‘Jistrah tagopar Ast moirparann Kini,’ he murmured and watched in satisfaction as the nondescript bag began to glow with a pale pink light.
‘Yes, it is enchanted,’ he whispered. Then he lifted his gaze to Caramon. ‘Go and bring me the orb.’
Caramon’s eyes opened wide in horror. ‘Not for any treasure in this world!’ the big man said with an oath.
‘Bring me the orb!’ Raistlin ordered, staring angrily at his brother, who still shook his head.
‘Oh, don’t be a fool, Caramon!’ Raistlin snapped in exasperation. ‘The orb cannot hurt those who do not attempt to use it. Believe me, my dear brother, you do not have the power to control a cockroach, let alone a dragon orb!’
‘But it might trap me,’ Caramon protested.
‘Bah! It seeks those with—’ Raistlin stopped suddenly.
‘Yes?’ Tanis said quietly. ‘Go on. Who does it seek?’
‘People with intelligence,’ Raistlin snarled. ‘Therefore I believe the members of this party are safe. Bring me the orb, Caramon, or perhaps you want to carry it yourself? Or you, Half-Elf? Or you, cleric of Mishakal?’
Caramon glanced uncomfortably at Tanis, and the half-elf realized that the big man was seeking his approval. It was an odd move for the twin, who had always done what Raistlin commanded without question.
Tanis saw that he wasn’t the only one who noticed Caramon’s mute appeal. Raistlin’s eyes glittered in rage.
Now more than ever, Tanis felt wary of the mage, distrusting Raistlin’s strange and growing power. It’s illogical, he argued with himself. A reaction to a nightmare, nothing more. But that didn’t solve his problem. What should he do about the dragon orb? Actually, he realized ruefully, he had little choice.
‘Raistlin’s the only one with the knowledge and the skill and—let’s face it—the guts to handle that thing,’ Tanis said grudgingly. ‘I say he should take it, unless one of you wants the responsibility?’
No one spoke, though Riverwind shook his head, frowning darkly. Tanis knew the Plainsman would leave the orb—and Raistlin as well—here in Silvanesti if he had the choice.
‘Go ahead, Caramon,’ Tanis said. ‘You’re the only one strong enough to lift it.’
Reluctantly, Caramon went to fetch the orb from its golden stand. His hands shook as he reached out to touch it, but, when he laid his hands upon it, nothing happened. The globe did not change in appearance. Sighing in relief, Caramon lifted the orb, grunting from the weight, and carried it back to his brother, who held the sack open.
‘Drop it in the bag,’ Raistlin ordered.
‘What?’ Caramon’s jaw sagged as he stared from the giant orb to the small bag in the mage’s frail hands. ‘I can’t, Raist! It won’t fit in there! It’ll smash!’
The big man fell silent as Raistlin’s eyes flared golden in the dying light of day.
‘No! Caramon, wait!’ Tanis leaped forward, but this time Caramon did as Raistlin commanded. Slowly, his eyes held fast by his brother’s intense gaze, Caramon dropped the dragon orb.
The orb vanished!
‘What? Where—’ Tanis glared at Raistlin suspiciously.
‘In the sack,’ the mage replied calmly, holding forth the small bag. ‘See for yourself, if you do not trust me.’
Tanis peered into the bag. The orb was inside and it was the true dragon orb, all right. He had no doubt. He could see the swirling mist of green, as though some faint life stirred within. It must have shrunk, he thought in awe, but the orb appeared to be the same size as always, giving Tanis the fearful impression that it was he who had grown.
Shuddering, Tanis stepped back. Raistlin gave the drawstring on the top of the bag a quick jerk, snapping it shut. Then, glancing at them distrustfully, he slipped the bag within his robes, secreting it in one of his numerous hidden pockets, and began to turn away. But Tanis stopped him.
‘Things can never again be the same between us, can they?’ the half-elf asked quietly.
Raistlin looked at him for a moment, and Tanis saw a brief flicker of regret in the young mage’s eyes, a longing for trust and friendship and a return to the days of youth.
‘No,’ Raistlin whispered. ‘But such was the price I paid.’ He began to cough.
‘Price? To whom? For what?’
‘Do not question, Half-Elf.’ The mage’s thin shoulders bent with coughing. Caramon put his strong arm around his brother and Raistlin leaned weakly against his twin. When he recovered from the spasm, he lifted his golden eyes. ‘I cannot tell you the answer, Tanis, because I do not know it myself.’
Then, bowing his head, he let Caramon lead him away to find what rest he could before their journey.
‘I wish you would reconsider and let us assist you in the funeral rites for your father,’ Tanis said to Alhana as she stood in the door of the Tower of the Stars to bid them farewell. ‘A day will not make a difference to us.’
‘Yes, let us,’ Goldmoon entreated earnestly. ‘I know much about this from our people, for our burial customs are similar to yours, if Tanis has told me correctly. I was priestess in my tribe, and I presided over the wrapping of the body in the spiced cloths that will preserve it—’
‘No, my friends,’ Alhana said firmly, her face pale. ‘It was my father’s wish that I—I do this alone.’
This was not quite true, but Alhana knew how shocked these people would be at the sight of her father’s body being consigned to the ground—a custom practiced only by goblins and other evil creatures. The thought appalled her. Involuntarily, her gaze was drawn to the tortured and twisted tree that was to mark his grave, standing over it like some fearful carrion bird. Quickly she looked away, her voice faltered.
‘His tomb is—is long prepared and I have some experience of these things myself. Do not worry about me, please.’
Tanis saw the agony in her face, but he could not refuse to honor her request.
‘We understand,’ Goldmoon said. Then, on impulse, the Que-shu Plainswoman put her arms around the elven princess and held her as she might have held a lost and frightened child. Alhana stiffened at first, then relaxed in Goldmoon’s compassionate embrace.
‘Be at peace,’ Goldmoon whispered, stroking back Alhana’s dark hair from her face. Then the Plainswoman left.