And so he stood alone, as if a black sun had been dropped into the courtyard. Not even the glitter of his eyes could be seen within the dark depths of his hood.
“Who’s that?” Tas asked a fellow prisoner conversationally, nodding at the black-robed figure.
“Don’t you know?” the prisoner said nervously, as if reluctant to reply.
“I’m from out of town,” Tas apologized.
“Why, that’s the Dark One—Fistandantilus. You’ve heard of him, I suppose?”
“Yes,” Tas said, glancing at Caramon as much as to say I told you so! “We’ve heard of him.”
4
When Crysania first awakened from the spell Paladine had cast upon her, she was in such a state of bewilderment and confusion that the clerics were greatly concerned, fearing her ordeal had unbalanced her mind.
She spoke of Palanthas, so they assumed she must come from there. But she called continually for the Head of her Order—someone named Elistan. The clerics were familiar with the Heads of all the Orders on Krynn and this Elistan was not known. But she was so insistent that there was, at first, some fear that something might have happened to the current Head in Palanthas. Messengers were hastily dispatched.
Then, too, Crysania spoke of a Temple in Palanthas, where no Temple existed. Finally she talked quite wildly of dragons and the “return of the gods,” which caused those in the room—Quarath and Elsa, head of the Revered Daughters—to look at each other in horror and make the signs of protection against blasphemy. Crysania was given an herbal potion, which calmed her, and eventually she fell asleep. The two stayed with her for long moments after she slept, discussing her case in low voices. Then the Kingpriest entered the room, coming to allay their fears.
“I cast an augury,” said the musical voice, “and was told that Paladine called her to him to protect her from a spell of evil magic that had been used upon her. I don’t believe any of us find that difficult to doubt.”
Quarath and Elsa shook their head, exchanging knowing glances. The Kingpriest’s hatred of magic-users was well known.
“She has been with Paladine, therefore, living in that wondrous realm which we seek to recreate upon this soil. Undoubtedly, while there, she was given knowledge of the future. She speaks of a beautiful Temple being built in Palanthas. Have we not plans to build such a Temple? She talks of this Elistan, who is probably some cleric destined to rule there.”
“But... dragons, return of the gods?” murmured Elsa.
“As to the dragons,” the Kingpriest said in a voice radiating warmth and amusement, “that is probably some tale of her childhood that haunted her in her illness, or perhaps had something to do with the spell cast upon her by the magic-user.” His voice became stern. “It is said, you know, that the wizards have the power to make people see that which does not exist. As for her talk of the ‘return of the gods’...”
The Kingpriest was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, it was with a hushed and breathless quality. “You two, my closest advisors, know of the dream in my heart. You know that someday—and that day is fast approaching—I will go to the gods and demand their help to fight the evil that is still present among us. On that day, Paladine himself will heed my prayers. He will come to stand at my side, and together we will battle the darkness until it is forever vanquished! This is what she has foreseen! This is what she means by the ‘return of the gods!’”
Light filled the room, Elsa whispered a prayer, and even Quarath lowered his eyes.
“Let her sleep,” said the Kingpriest. “She will be better by morning. I will mention her in my prayers to Paladine.”
He left the room and it grew darker with his passing. Elsa stood looking after him in silence. Then, as the door shut to Crysania’s chamber, the elven woman turned to Quarath.
“Does he have the power?” Elsa asked her male counterpart as he stood staring thoughtfully at Crysania. “Does he truly intend to do... what he spoke of doing?”
“What?” Quarath’s thoughts had been far away. He glanced after the Kingpriest. “Oh, that? Of course he has the power. You saw how he healed this young woman. And the gods speak to him through the augury, or so he claims. When was the last time you healed someone, Revered Daughter?”
“Then you believe all that about Paladine taking her soul and letting her see the future?” Elsa appeared amazed. “You believe he truly healed her?”
“I believe there is something very strange about this young woman and about those two who came with her,” Quarath said gravely. “I will take care of them. You keep an eye on her. As for the Kingpriest”—Quarath shrugged—“let him call down the power of the gods. If they come down to fight for him, fine. If not, it doesn’t matter to us. We know who does the work of the gods on Krynn.”
“I wonder,” remarked Elsa, smoothing Crysania’s dark hair back from her slumbering face. “There was a young girl in our Order who had the power of true healing. That young girl who was seduced by the Solamnic knight. What was his name?”
“Soth,” said Quarath. “Lord Soth, of Dargaard Keep. Oh, I don’t doubt it. You occasionally find some, particularly among the very young or the very old, who have the power. Or think they do. Frankly, I am convinced most of it is simply a result of people wanting to believe in something so badly that they convince themselves it is true. Which doesn’t hurt any of us. Watch this young woman closely, Elsa. If she continues to talk about such things in the morning, after she is recovered, we may need to take drastic measures. But, for now—”
He fell silent. Elsa nodded. Knowing that the young woman would sleep soundly under the influence of the potion, the two of them left Crysania alone, asleep in a room in the great Temple of Istar.
Crysania woke the next morning feeling as if her head were stuffed with cotton. There was a bitter taste in her mouth and she was terribly thirsty. Dizzily, she sat up, trying to piece together her thoughts. Nothing made any sense. She had a vague, horrifying memory of a ghastly creature from beyond the grave approaching her. Then she had been with Raistlin in the Tower of High Sorcery, and then a dim memory of being surrounded by mages dressed in white, red, and black, an impression of singing stones, and a feeling of having taken a long journey.
She also had a memory of awakening and finding herself in the presence of a man whose beauty had been overpowering, whose voice filled her mind and her soul with peace. But he said he was the Kingpriest and that she was in the Temple of the Gods in Istar. That made no sense at all. She remembered calling for Elistan, but no one seemed to have heard of him. She told them about him—how he was healed by Goldmoon, cleric of Mishakal, how he led the fight against the evil dragons, and how he was telling the people about the return of the gods. But her words only made the clerics regard her with pity and alarm. Finally, they gave her an odd-tasting potion to drink, and she had fallen asleep.
Now she was still confused but determined to find out where she was and what was happening. Getting out of bed, she forced herself to wash as she did every morning, then she sat down at the strange-looking dressing table and calmly brushed and braided her long, dark hair. The familiar routine made her feel more relaxed.
She even took time to look around the bedroom, and she couldn’t help but admire its beauty and splendor. But she did think, however, that it seemed rather out of place in a Temple devoted to the gods, if that was truly where she was. Her bedroom in her parent’s home in Palanthas had not been half so splendid, and it had been furnished with every luxury money could buy.
Her mind went suddenly to what Raistlin had shown her—the poverty and want so near the Temple—and she flushed uncomfortably.