"Tell me, Raistlin, how you divined that I was going to cast this ancient and generally forgotten spell? Satisfy my curiosity. You know you are going to die anyway."
The Nightmaster bent over Raistlin, leering triumphantly.
The young mage sat in stony silence on a rock near the lip of the crater, his arms bound behind him, his feet also tied tightly with rope. Yet Raistlin refused to let defeat show in his face. Instead, he offered the Nightmaster an enigmatic smile with his reply.
"It was completely by chance. It was only a torn page in a yellowed spellbook that caught my eye. I knew that the spell had something to do with minotaur rituals. That much was obvious. And there was a citation of Sargonnas, the Lord of Dark Vengeance. But I had no hope of assembling the spell components, and beyond that, I cared little.
"Then my friend, Tasslehoff Burrfoot"-here Raistlin nodded in the direction of the kender, who was bounding back and forth between members of the High Three, trying to help them mix potions and ingredients but mostly getting in the way-"happened to make mention of a minotaur herbalist located on the island of Southern Ergoth. A minotaur herbalist… that aroused my curiosity. I asked a kender friend of Tasslehoff's who sometimes sold herbs, roots, and other items to me about certain peculiar ingredients that were mentioned on the torn page of the yellowed spellbook.
"One of these ingredients was crushed jalopwort, and the kender assured me that the minotaur had a supply available. Along with my brother and a friend, Tas volunteered to travel to Southern Ergoth to purchase the jalopwort."
Here Raistlin paused, glancing around. The pale of evening had settled in, promising a crisp night, with the stars clear in their formations.
The acolytes and troops had retreated to the edge of the summit, well away from the staging area. Silent and grim, holding their weapons aloft so that the steel and embroidered gems glinted under the twin moons, the small force of soldiers stood back from the Nightmaster, Raistlin, and the others.
Dogz took a position near the Nightmaster, guarding Raistlin.
"Even then, I would not have thought too much about it," the young mage continued. "It is part of my business to be interested in exotic herbs and rare spells. Except then my brother, his friend, and Tasslehoff vanished. And before they vanished, Tas sent me a magic message bottle that told me all about the strange execution of the minotaur herbalist.
'The person who brought me the message bottle added some curious details about the missing ship and its treacherous captain. After completing his job, it seems the captain was also killed in a manner that appeared to me to be distinctly magical."
Raistlin's eyes glittered with intelligence as he spoke.
"After that, it was mostly guesswork. I went back to the crumbling spellbook and read and studied the partial spell. I discussed my conclusions with-" here he paused-"let me call him a learned advisor.
"Through these efforts, it gradually dawned on me that the jalopwort was just a small part of a magical undertaking grander than anything I had suspected, that this ambitious spell had to involve minotaurs at the highest level, and that the spellcasting that was being planned would, if successful, bring Sargonnas, god of the minotaurs, into the material plane. The most logical place for such a rite would be here, near the ruins of Karthay, the last known place on Krynn where the Lord of Vengeance showed his wrath of fire."
"So you did get my magic message bottle!" chirped Tasslehoff. The kender had bounded up behind Raistlin. "I'm glad it wasn't wast-"
The Nightmaster grabbed Tasslehoff, whose habit of idle chatter was beginning to irritate him, and rather roughly shoved the kender under one arm, blanketing his mouth with a huge hand.
Raistlin looked at both of them coolly.
"Yes," purred the Nightmaster while Tas did his best to get loose from the high shaman's smothering grip. "Tasslehoff sent you a magic message bottle. You and he are old friends, right? So how do you like the new, improved Tasslehoff-to whom one of my disciples has fed a potion and turned into an evil kender? He has been most useful to us so far"-here the Nightmaster gave Tas a hard squeeze-"and I trust he will continue to be useful to us in the future."
Raistlin glanced at the struggling kender, then returned his gaze to the Nightmaster. "So that is how you did it," said Raistlin. "A potion."
"Do you doubt it?" rumbled the Nightmaster. For a moment, the Nightmaster lifted his arm away from Tas's mouth.
"It's true," said Tasslehoff, wrinkling his face into what he hoped was a fierce-looking sneer. "I'm incredibly evil now. Quite a change, huh?"
The Nightmaster clapped his arm back around the kender's mouth, and Tas resumed his struggling.
"I would have thought," Raistlin said blandly, "that a potion would not have any long-term effect."
The Nightmaster smiled. "You're quite right," he rumbled. "Dogz!" Dogz approached him, and he handed the kender over to Dogz. "Give Tasslehoff his double dose-now!"
Dogz looked at the Nightmaster, then quickly looked away. For an instant, his eyes met Raistlin's. Then Dogz nodded to the Nightmaster.
The Nightmaster returned his attention to Raistlin. "I am grateful to you for reminding me."
With Tas protesting, Dogz led the kender off to a far corner of the spellcasting area, where a small table was set up. Raistlin saw Dogz set the kender down by the shoulders, swirl something in a beaker, and tip the contents into the kender's mouth. After that, Raistlin observed, Dogz watched Tas for several minutes until the kender's head drooped down and he was slumped peacefully in the chair.
All around them, preparations for the casting of the spell had reached their zenith. Fesz and the other two shaman minotaurs were tossing handfuls of components culled from jars and beakers into the dug-out crater. After hundreds of years of dormancy, the volcano had begun to hiss and sputter. A faint orange light spilled forth from the mouth of the fire fountain.
Dogz trotted back in the direction of Raistlin and the Nightmaster.
"I would have considered the kender for a sacrificial victim," rumbled the Nightmaster, "if kender were not such an insignificant race. Sargonnas would much prefer a human, and a young mage such as yourself will, as you might guess, improve the spell greatly." Here he paused and studied Raistlin closely.
"I am so ignorant of the customs of humans. Tell me why you are not wearing the robes of white, red, or black."
"I have not taken the Test," said Raistlin, "and I have not yet chosen the color of the robes that I will one day wear."
"If you were a black robe," mused the Nightmaster, "we would be on the same side. You would worship Sargonnas as I do."
"I know very little about Sargonnas. That is one of the reasons why I came."
"You came to rescue your brother," the Nightmaster said with a sneer.
"Partly," answered Raistlin, "and partly because I am interested in all the orders of magic-black, white, and neutral."
"Really?"
The High Three had finished their preliminary work. Dogz was standing back, arms folded, in the shadows. Fesz came over and interrupted.
"Pardon, Excellency," said Fesz, "but we are ready."
The high shaman gave him a nod. Fesz turned away.
The Nightmaster leaned over Raistlin, his fetid breath hot on the mage's face. The high shaman examined the young mage from Solace with fresh interest. Raistlin didn't flinch under his gaze.
"So," rumbled the Nightmaster, "that is why you volunteered to take your sister's place… because you wanted to observe the spell and to encounter Sargonnas himself-as you surely will, since you will be the victim who makes possible his entry into this world!"