The sorcerer steadied himself, closed his eyes, and felt the gently rolling deck of the ship turn to solid stone beneath his feet.
“Palin!”
“Usha?”
She was in his arms in a heartbeat, hugging him fiercely and causing his mending wounds to flare up with pain. But the sorcerer didn’t mind. He returned her embrace and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her lilac perfume. After several long moments, she edged away from him, a slight frown on her unblemished face.
“Where have you been? Look at your face!” She ran her smooth fingers over the short beard he’d grown. He hadn’t shaved since he’d left the Anvil to journey through the desert.
“I think it makes me look more distinguished.”
“Liar,” she tsk-tsked at him. “You’re not a young man anymore, Palin Majere, but you’ve been running around Ansalon like one. And you’re so sunburnt.”
He smiled and stared wistfully at her, glad that his clothes covered his bandages so she wouldn’t fuss over him. Usha Majere was only a few years younger than Palin, though she could pass for a woman nearly twenty years younger than that. Her silvery-white hair fell in soft curls about her shoulders, framing her face and her golden eyes.
Palin thought she still looked very much like the girl he had met more than thirty years ago. His love for her grew stronger with each passing day.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. He raised his hand, and cupped her chin. Her skin was soft and smooth and unblemished by the years. “It’s not that I’m not glad to see you. I certainly am. But why aren’t you in Solace?”
“I was worried about you,” she said. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while. And neither had they.” She pointed to the cloaked men moving up behind Her. “The Master brought me here, said he knew you’d be coming for a visit soon. I’m just happy he was right.”
The Master of the Tower nodded to Majere. “You have news for us?” His voice barely rose above a whisper and was muffled by the folds of the hood of his black robe. The dark-cloaked man was the caretaker of the Tower of High Sorcery, hence his title. Despite all the time they’d spent together, Palin scarcely knew him. The Master kept his past a secret, dressed in somber robes that hid his features, and rarely talked about anything save magic and the dragons.
Near him stood the Shadow Sorcerer, an even greater enigma. Dressed in voluminous gray robes that effectively masked individual features, the sorcerer could have been a man or a woman. It was impossible to tell. The voice was too indistinct to provide a clue, and though the Shadow Sorcerer had spent much time over the years with Palin and the Master, there was never a revealing slip about his—or her—past.
Palin had given up trying to figure either sorcerer out. His Uncle Raistlin had been a bit eccentric; many sorcerers seemed to wrap themselves in secrets and puzzles. He knew only that they were able colleagues interested in combating the menace of the overlords. He trusted them and welcomed their counsel.
“We looked in on you,” the Master began, gesturing toward a crystal ball on the shelf. “We saw you in the Blue’s lair. You were most fortunate that he was not at home.”
Palin smiled, and nodded his head. “It wasn’t exactly the lair we were looking for, but the trip was valuable nonetheless. We learned how spawn are created.” He continued to regale the sorcerers and Usha with the tale of his escapades in the Northern Wastes while the quartet climbed the stairs to the tower’s topmost level.
A rectangular ebonwood table stretched nearly the length of the room. Maps detailing where dragons had claimed territory hung on all four walls. Palin sat at the head of the table and steepled his fingers. The climb had taken more effort than he had expected, and he didn’t want his wife to realize that he was winded. Usha, who rarely joined the sorcerers’ sessions, sat next to him, looking intently into his eyes.
“Khellendros is becoming an increasing threat,” Palin said finally.
The Shadow Sorcerer brushed by the Majeres and stood in front of one of the room’s windows. “All of the dragons are becoming an increasing threat, Majere. An army of blue spawn? If Khellendros has discovered the secret for making dragonspawn, the other dragons will learn it soon — if they don’t know already. We’ll be facing armies of spawn. But spawn are the least of our worries. Some dragons are gathering human slaves. Now you say Khellendros wants to gather ancient artifacts — magic from the Age of Dreams? If he seeks them, other dragons will, too.”
“That ancient magic,” the Master cut in. “It is more powerful than any could comprehend. Palin, I believe Sageth could be correct — destroying it might unleash enough energy to increase Krynn’s magic.”
“But something bothers you about the idea,” Palin prompted. “I can tell by the tone of your voice.”
“What troubles me is that the Shadow Sorcerer and I had not considered such a venue before. It took a half-mad old scholar from a prison cell to open our minds. Enhancing magic, if it could be done, sorcerers could command more powerful spells, and with them, the dragons could be challenged.”
“That settles it, then,” Palin said. “My companions and I will search for the artifacts. While we do so, I want you to research the matter. I want to be absolutely certain we’d be taking the right path by destroying the items once we found them.”
The Master nodded. “Research takes time, and it doesn’t always lead to the conclusion one expects.”
“Time isn’t something we have a lot of,” Palin said. “But regardless of whether we decide to destroy the items, we need to find them before Khellendros.” He inhaled deeply, looked into the recesses of the Master’s shadowy hood, and then turned to glance at the Shadow Sorcerer. “I recently learned that a piece of the ancient magic sits within this tower. It is a ring.”
“Dalamar’s ring,” the Master answered, his singularly soft voice even more difficult to hear than usual.
“You have it?”
The Master extended his right hand beyond the folds of his long sleeve. A thick band of braided gold encircled his middle finger. The entire piece gleamed with an eldritch light, and Palin felt the waves of its dark energy from several feet away.
The Shadow Sorcerer pushed himself back from the table. “And just what other secrets do you have?”
“Perhaps as many as you.” The Master withdrew his hand back into his sleeve.
“How did you come into possession of such a ring?” asked the Shadow Sorcerer.
“Dalamar studied in the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. It was one of the items he left behind, and I rescued it before the tower was destroyed many years ago.”
“And Dalamar was a Wizard of the Black Robes, just as Raistlin was. And Raistlin would have known just where Dalamar left the precious ring.”
“I have no qualms, Shadow Sorcerer, about surrendering this ring to Palin,” the Master said. “It is a very powerful artifact. But first I would prefer to conduct the research he requires. I would prefer to know that my sacrifice of the ring will not be wasted. I’ll review Raistlin’s notes. Certainly they discuss the ancient magic. Raistlin knew how.”
“Raistlin,” the Shadow Sorcerer hissed. “Not even he could have hoped to stand against these dragons.”
“You don’t know that,” the Master argued. “He was powerful. His books and tomes are filled with—”
“Words and suppositions about the arcane,” the Shadow Sorcerer finished. “But do what you will. Maybe you will find something of use amid his musty ruminations.”
The Master glanced at Palin. “Sageth spoke of needing four artifacts. When you’ve gained three, return to me. Then you can have Dalamar’s ring—the fourth.”
“Such a noble sacrifice,” the Shadow Sorcerer whispered. “But then it’s no greater sacrifice than any loving uncle would make.”