Hederick and his guards stood stunned for a moment. The crowd edged back as speedily as possible.
"Repent, mage," the High Theocrat finally choked out.
"Commend your soul to the grace of the New Gods."
The wizard laughed. Suddenly he was standing.
Hederick's guards leaped toward the mage.
The black-robed wizard sprinkled powder retrieved from a packet hidden in his boot and swept one hand around him in a huge circle. "Anelor armida na refinej!" The guards doubled over as if they'd been poleaxed.
The High Theocrat fumbled inside his robe and pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle. The Diamond Dragon! It had to be! Kifflewit rejoiced.
"Hederick!" the mage shouted. "You call me evil, yet you cannot see the same in yourself! Centriep ystendalet trewykyl. See, then, what you have brought upon yourself. Gantendestin milsivantid!"
Hederick untied the leather. The Diamond Dragon glit shy;tered on his palm.
"There it is! The Diamond Dragon! Let me get a closer look!" Kifflewit cried and bounded up the stile.
"Cariax povokiet zvrekanenet res," the mage shouted at that precise moment.
The kender reached for the dragon and found it in his grasp. Suddenly, an explosion sent him crashing to the earth. He heard screams, smelled burning grass and something worse, and rolled sideways under the stile as people stampeded, seeking escape. The kender raised his head. The back gate was locked. There were only two get shy;aways: over the wall to the lake, for those few who could swim, and back through the temple Erolydon. The crowd ebbed and surged, unsure which way led to safety.
There was no sign of the mage.
Kifflewit crawled out from under the stile, clutching the Diamond Dragon. "Wasn't that exciting?" he said to no one in particular. "Where'd the mage go? Did he disap shy;pear? Turn into a bird? Fly away? What-"
He turned and saw the body on the stile. The outflung hand still clasped the thong and empty leather cover that had masked the Diamond Dragon. The puffy face had relaxed. The blue robe was blackened and tattered.
In the center of the High Theocraf s chest was a scorched hole the size of a fist. Hederick's heart was gone.
It was enough to silence even a kender. Kifflewit crawled up on the stile. "Gee, I'm sorry," he said to the corpse. "You were really fond of this." He held out the Diamond Dragon. "You probably would have wanted to have it with you when you died." The kender sighed. "Well, you can have it back now, if you like." He held his hand, the one with the Diamond Dragon in it, above the High Theocrat's lifeless palm.
"No, Kifflewit!" came a shout.
That voice. Tarscenian? The kender looked over his shoulder just as he dropped the artifact into Hederick's hand. But this wasn't Tarscenian; this was that beggar. And what a mess he was!
At that moment, Hederick's hand grasped the kender's wrist.
Kifflewit gave a squawk. Hederick held his wrist firmly. The kender could only stare in fascination as color returned to Hederick's flaccid cheeks. Then the pale blue eyes opened-and the wound closed in the High Theo shy;crat's chest.
"But you can't live without a heart!" Kifflewit protested as he yanked his wrist away.
Hederick sat up, his face devoid of expression. Kifflewit held out the thong and rewrapped leather. "I think you lost these," the kender said apologetically. Wordless, Hed shy;erick accepted the gift.
And then Kifflewit was off through the crowd, scrambling over the rocks and up the wall, and diving into the lake. He swam underwater until a change in the light told him he'd passed beyond Erolydon's walls. Then he surfaced, turned south, and paddled in that direction until the Seeker temple had vanished behind the trees.
At last Kifflewit Burrthistle climbed up on a boulder. The sun was warm, the sky cloudless. A warm breeze promised to dry his clothes in short order. A perfect day, really.
Perfect for examining the Diamond Dragon at leisure, he thought, pulling the artifact from his pocket.
Kifflewit hoped idly that Hederick didn't have the same goal in mind. If he did, the High Theocrat would find nothing in his precious leather packet but one of Phy-tos's stones.
Astinus, historian of the Great Library ofPalanthas, gazed at the words he had written. The ink had not even dried yet.
The sentence had come to him in the middle of a routine his shy;tory of the doings in the northern kingdom of Kern. The leader of that kingdom was showing disturbing signs of following in the footsteps of his late uncle, whose campaign to conquer the world had been narrowly stopped only a short time before.
And then Astinus's hand had written the words that stood out from the page now as though etched inflame: "And at that moment, two apprentice scribes in the library at Palanthas attempted to alter the course of history."
Although Astinus's expression of alert concentration didn't change, an assistant gasped as he looked over the chief histo shy;rian's shoulder and saw the latest notation. Astinus gave no sign that he'd heard the aide.
The historian merely gazed at the sentence and waited patiently.
"This has to be illegal," Olven hissed from his seat at the desk. "Or maybe it's even a sin. No, I won't move from this chair and let you in. I know what you have in mind. Are you crazy, Maryal"
"So just leave," the woman rejoined. "Say you left as I entered and that you assumed I, not Eban, was replacing you. Say I lied to you, told you he was sick. I don't care, Olven. Someone has to do something about Hederick." Her face bright shy;ened as she looked down at her fellow apprentice, "fust think!" she exclaimed in a near-whisper. "What good could be done if someone were able and willing to battle evil from here-from the very core of history!"
"But Astinus …" Olven held up an arm and warded off Marya's attempts to grab his quill away from him.
"Listen," she insisted, "if I write something down here, it becomes history, doesn't it? And when somethittg actually hap shy;pens as I wrote it, who will know it wasn't meant to be that way? It's not really a lie, then, is it?" Another thought occurred to her. "And what if you and I were actually meant to do this- to change this? What if we're part of the gods' plans? You believe in the gods, don't you, Olven?"
"Of course. I work here, don't I? Some say the Old Gods themselves created this library. Some even say Astinus himself is…" Olven decided he was getting off the track. "Anyway, I haven't decided to do anything yet, Marya," he continued. The apprentice looked uneasily around the library. No one had taken notice of their heated, although circumspect, discussion. The other scribes were deep in their work, as usual.
Eban wasn't due to relieve Olven for at least an hour, the scribe thought. It could be done as Marya said.
"Olven, think!" Marya persisted, unaware of the battle rag shy;ing within him. "All we have to do is write one simple line: At that moment, Hederick died. No one will know. The black-robed mage burned out the man's heart this afternoon, for the gods' sake! Who would be surprised if the High Theocrat died? We can even make it a peaceful death, if you want. Hederick can die in his sleep. It's better than he deserves, but if you're squea shy;mish …" "But the Diamond Dragon cured him."
"We only know that the hole in his chest closed," Marya said quickly. "Perhaps Hederick is meant to die now, Olven. And perhaps we are the ones who are meant to cause it to happen. We could do the gods' work. We could save Krynn!"
Olven gazed up at Marya. As she watched the younger apprentice's face, the middle-aged woman saw his indecision give way to resolve and then soften again to uncertainty almost immediately.
"Olven, we have to hurry," she insisted. "You know that Eban wouldn't even consider doing something like this-and who knows what could happen in Solace while Eban is record shy;ing events? He won't step in to help; you know that!"