Time of the Twins

“You’re right, Raistlin,” Tas heard her say with a sigh, “this is much more restful than those garish corridors. When I first came here, I was frightened. You smile! But I was. I admit it. This corridor seemed so bleak and desolate and cold. But now the hallways of the Temple are filled with an oppressive, stifling warmth. Even the Yule decorations depress me. I see so much waste, money squandered that could be helping those in need.”

She stopped speaking, and Tas heard a rustle. Since no one was talking, the kender quit listening and put his eyes to the keyhole. He could see inside the room quite clearly. The heavy curtains were drawn, but the chamber was lit with soft candlelight. Crysania sat in a chair, facing him. The rustling sound he heard was apparently her stirring in impatience or frustration.

She rested her head on her hand, and the look on her face was one of confusion and perplexity.

But that was not what made the kender open his eyes wide. Crysania had changed! Gone were the plain, unadorned white robes, the severe hair style. She was dressed as the other female clerics in white robes, but these were decorated with fine embroidery. Her arms were bare, though a slender golden band adorned one, enhancing the pure whiteness of her skin. Her hair fell from a central part to sweep down around her shoulders with feathery softness. There was a flush of color in her cheeks, her eyes were warm and their gaze lingered on the black-robed figure that sat across from her, his back to Tas.

“Humpf,” said the kender with interest. “Tika was right.”

“I don’t know why I come here,” Tas heard Crysania say after a moment’s pause.

I do, the kender thought gleefully, quickly moving his ear back to the keyhole so he could hear better.

Her voice continued. “I am filled with such hope when I come to visit you, but I always leave depressed and unhappy. I plan to show you the ways of righteousness and truth, to prove to you that only by following those ways can we hope to bring peace to our world. But you always turn my words upside down and inside out.”

“Your questions are your own,” Tas heard Raistlin say, and there was another rustling sound, as if the mage moved closer to the woman. “I simply open your heart so that you may hear them. Surely Elistan counsels against blind faith...”

Tas heard a sarcastic note in the mage’s voice, but apparently Crysania did not detect it, for she answered quickly and sincerely, “Of course. He encourages us to question and often tell: us of Goldmoon’s example—how her questioning led to the return of the true gods. But questions should lead one to better understanding, and your questions only make me confused and miserable!”

“How well I know that feeling,” Raistlin murmured so softly that Tas almost didn’t hear him. The kender heard Crysania move in her chair and risked a quick peep. The mage was near her, one hand resting on her arm. As he spoke those words, Crysania moved nearer him, impulsively placing her hand over his. When she spoke, there was such hope and love and joy in her voice that Tas felt warm all over.

“Do you mean that?” Crysania asked the mage. “Are my poor words touching some part of you? No, don’t look away! I can see by your expression that you have thought of them and pondered them. We are so alike! I knew that the first time I met you. Ah, you smile again, mocking me. Go ahead. I know the truth. You told me the same thing, in the Tower. You said I was as ambitious as you were. I’ve thought about it, and you’re right. Our ambitions take different forms, but perhaps they are not as dissimilar as I once believed. We both live lonely lives, dedicated to our studies. We open our hearts to no one, not even those who would be closest to us. You surround yourself with darkness, but, Raistlin, I have seen beyond that. The warmth, the light...”

Tas quickly put his eye back to the keyhole. He’s going to kiss her! he thought, wildly excited. This is wonderful! Wait until I tell Caramon.

“Come on, fool!” he instructed Raistlin impatiently as the mage sat there, his hands on Crysania’s arms. “How can he resist?” the kender muttered, looking at the woman’s parted lips, her shining eyes.

Suddenly Raistlin let loose of Crysania and turned away from her, abruptly rising out of his chair. “You had better go,” he said in a husky voice. Tas sighed and drew away from the door in disgust. Leaning against the wall, he shook his head.

There was the sound of coughing, deep and harsh, and Crysania’s voice, gentle and filled with concern.

“It is nothing,” Raistlin said as he opened the door. “I have felt unwell for several days. Can you not guess the reason?” he asked, pausing with the door half ajar. Tas pressed back against the wall so they wouldn’t see him, not wanting to interrupt (or miss) anything. “Haven’t you felt it?”

“I have felt something,” Crysania murmured breathlessly. “What do you mean?”