"Almost thirty years ago, Raistlin Majere came here to take his Test," Justarius began. "Once inside the Tower, taking his Test, he was contacted by-"
"We know that," Caramon growled.
"Some of us do," Justarius replied. "Some of us do not." His gaze went to Palin. "Or at least, they do not know the entire story. The Test was difficult for Raistlin-it is difficult for all of us who take it, isn't it?"
Dalamar did not speak, but his pale face went a shade paler, the slanted eyes were clouded. All traces of laughter had vanished from Dunbar s face. His gaze went to Palin and he almost imperceptibly shook his head.
"Yes," Justarius continued softly, absently rubbing his leg with his hand as though it pained him. "The test is difficult. But it is not impossible. Par-Salian and the Heads of the Orders would not have granted Raistlin permission to take it-as young as he was-if they had not deemed it likely that he would succeed. And he would have! Yes, Caramon! There is not a doubt in my mind or in the minds of any who were present that day and witnessed it. Your twin had the strength and the skill to succeed on his own. But he chose the easy way, the sure way-he accepted the help of an evil wizard, the greatest of our order who ever lived- Fistandantilus."
"Fistandantilus," Justarius repeated, his eyes on Pa-lin. "His magic having gone awry, he died at Skullcap Mountain. But he was powerful enough to defeat death itself. His spirit survived, on another plane, waiting to find a body it could inhabit. And he found that body. He found Raistlin."
Caramon sat silently, his eyes fixed on Justarius, his face red, his jaw muscles stiff. He felt a hand on his shoulder and, glancing up, saw Palin, who had come to stand behind him. Leaning down, Palin whispered, "We can go, father. I'm sorry. I was wrong to make you come. We don't have to listen…"
Justarius sighed. "Yes, young mage, you do have to listen, I am afraid. You must hear the truth!"
Palin started, flushing at hearing his words repeated. Reaching up, Caramon gripped his son's hand reassuringly. "We know the truth," he growled. "That evil wizard took my brother's soul! And you mages let him!"
"No, Caramon!" Justarius's fist clenched, his gray brows drew together. "Raistlin made a deliberate choice to turn his back upon the light and embrace the darkness. Fistandantilus gave him the power to pass the Test and, in exchange, Raistlin gave Fistandantilus part of his life force in order to help the liche's spirit survive. That is what shattered his body-not the Test. Raistlin said it himself, Caramon! 'This is the sacrifice I made for my magic!' How many times did you hear him say those words!"
"Enough!" Scowling, Caramon stood up. "It was Par-Salian's fault. No matter what evil my twin did after that, you mages started him down the path he eventually walked." Motioning to his sons, Caramon turned upon his heel and walked rapidly from the chamber, heading for what he hoped (in this strange place) was the way out.
"No!" Justarius rose unsteadily to his feet, unable to put his full weight upon his crippled left leg. But his voice was powerful, thundering through the chamber. "Listen and understand, Caramon Majere! You must, or you will regret it bitterly!"
Caramon stopped. Slowly, he turned around, but only half way. "Is this a threat?" he asked, glaring at Justarius over his shoulder.
"No threat, at least not one we make," Justarius said. "Think, Caramon! Don't you see the danger? It happened once, it can happen again!"
"I don't understand," Caramon said stubbornly, his hand on his sword, still considering.
Like a snake uncoiling to strike, Dalamar leaned forward in his chair. "Yes, you do!" His voice was soft and lethal. "You understand. Don't ask for us to tell you details, for we cannot. But know this-by certain signs we have seen and certain contacts we have made in realms beyond this one, we have reason to believe that Raistlin lives-much as did Fistandantilus. He seeks a way back into this world. He needs a body to inhabit. And you, his beloved twin, have thoughtfully provided him with one-young, strong, and already trained in magic."
Dalamar's words sank into Caramon's flesh like poisoned fangs. "Your son…"
CHAPTER FOUR
Justarius resumed his seat, easing himself into the great stone chair carefully. Smoothing the folds of his red robes about him with hands that looked remarkably young for his age, he spoke to Caramon, though his eyes were on the white-robed young man standing at his father's side. "Thus you see, Caramon Majere, that we cannot possibly let your son-Raistlin's nephew-continue to study magic and take the Test without first making certain that his uncle cannot use this young man to gain entry back into the world."
"Especially," added Dunbar gravely, "since the young man's loyalties to one particular Order have yet to be established."
"What do you mean?" Caramon frowned. "Take the Test? He's long way from taking the Test. And as for his loyalties, he chose to wear the White Robes-"
"You and Mother chose that I wear the White Robes," Palin said evenly, his eyes avoiding his father. When only hurt silence answered him, Palin made an irritated gesture. "Oh, come now. Father. You know as well as I do that you wouldn't have considered letting me study magic under any other conditions. I knew better than to even ask!"
"But the young man must declare the allegiance that is in his heart. Only then can he use the true power of his magic. And he must do this during his Test," Dun-bar said gently.
"Test! What is this talk of the Test! I tell you he hasn't even made up his mind whether or not to take the damn thing. And if I have anything to say about it-" Caramon stopped speaking abruptly, his gaze going to his son's face. Palin stared at the stone floor, his cheeks flushed, his lips pressed tightly together.
"Well, never mind that," Caramon muttered, drawing a deep breath. Behind him, he could hear his other two sons shuffling nervously, the rattle of Tanin's sword, Sturm's soft cough. He was acutely aware, too, of the wizards watching him, especially of Dala-mar's cynical smile. If only he and Palin could be alone! Caramon sighed. It was something they should have talked about before this, he supposed. But he kept hoping…
Turning his back on the wizards, he faced his youngest son. "What… what other loyalty would you choose, Palin?" he asked belatedly, trying to make amends. "You're a good person, son! You enjoy helping people, serving others! White seems obvious…"
"I don't know whether I enjoy serving others or not," Palin cried impatiently, losing control. "You thrust me into this role, and look where it has gotten me! You admit yourself that I am not as strong or skilled in magic as my uncle was at my age. That was because he devoted his life to study! He let nothing interfere with it. It seems to me a man must put the magic first, the world second.."
Closing his eyes in pain, Caramon listened to his son's words, but he heard them spoken by another voice-a soft, whispering voice, a shattered voice — A man must put the magic first, the world second. by doing anything else, helimits himself and his potential . He felt a hand grasp his arm. "Father, I'm sorry," Palin said softly. "I would have discussed it with you, but I knew how much it would hurt you. And then there's Mother." The young man sighed. "You know mother…"
"Yes," said Caramon in a choked voice, reaching out and grasping his son in his big arms, "I know your mother." Clearing his throat, he tried to smile. "She might have thrown something at you-she did me once-most of my armor as I recall. But her aim is terrible, especially when it's someone she loves…"
Caramon couldn't go, but stood holding his son. Looking over his shoulder at the wizards, he asked harshly, "Is this necessary, right now? Let us go home and talk about it. Why can't we wait-"