Time of the Twins

Astinus snorted, dropping the woman’s hand as though he had completely lost interest in her very existence. Turning away, he walked to the window and looked out over the city of Palanthas, whose gleaming white buildings glowed in the sun’s radiance with a breathtaking beauty, with one exception. One building remained untouched by the sun, even in brightest noontime.

And it was upon this building that Astinus’s gaze fixed. Thrusting itself up in the center of the brilliant, beautiful city, its black stone towers twisted and writhed, its minarets—newly repaired and constructed by the powers of magic—glistened blood-red in the sunset, giving the appearance of rotting, skeletal fingers clawing their way up from some unhallowed burial ground.

“Two years ago, he entered the Tower of High Sorcery,” Astinus said in his calm, passionless voice as Crysania joined him at the window. “He entered in the dead of night in darkness, the only moon in the sky was the moon that sheds no light. He walked through the Shoikan Grove—a stand of accursed oak trees that no mortal—not even those of the kender race—dare approach. He made his way to the gates upon which hung still the body of the evil mage who, with his dying breath, cast the curse upon the Tower and leapt from the upper windows, impaling himself upon its gates—a fearsome watchman. But when he came there, the watchman bowed before him, the gates opened at his touch, then they shut behind him. And they have not opened again these past two years. He has not left and, if any have been admitted, none have seen them. And you expect him... here?”

“The master of past and of present.” Crysania shrugged. “He came, as was foretold.”

Astinus regarded her with some astonishment.

“You know his story?”

“Of course,” the cleric replied calmly, glancing up at him for an instant, then turning her clear eyes back to look at the Tower, already shrouding itself with the coming night’s shadows. “A good general always studies the enemy before engaging in battle. I know Raistlin Majere very well, very well indeed. And I know—he will come this night.”

Crysania continued gazing at the dreadful Tower, her chin lifted, her bloodless lips set in a straight, even line, her hands clasped behind her back.

Astinus’s face suddenly became grave and thoughtful, his eyes troubled, though his voice was cool as ever. “You seem very sure of yourself, Revered Daughter. How do you know this?”

“Paladine has spoken to me,” Crysania replied, never taking her eyes from the Tower. “In a dream, the Platinum Dragon appeared before me and told me that evil—once banished from the world—had returned in the person of this black-robed wizard, Raistlin Majere. We face dire peril, and it has been given to me to prevent it.” As Crysania spoke, her marble face grew smooth, her gray eyes were clear and bright. “It will be the test of my faith I have prayed for!” She glanced at Astinus. “You see, I have known since childhood that my destiny was to perform some great deed, some great service to the world and its people. This is my chance.”

Astinus’s face grew graver as he listened, and even more stern.

“Paladine told you this?” he demanded abruptly.

Crysania, sensing, perhaps, this man’s disbelief, pursed her lips. A tiny line appearing between her brows was, however, the only sign of her anger, that and an even more studied calmness in her reply.

“I regret having spoken of it, Astinus, forgive me. It was between my god and myself, and such sacred things should not be discussed. I brought it up simply to prove to you that this evil man will come. He cannot help himself. Paladine will bring him.”

Astinus’s eyebrows rose so that they very nearly disappeared into his graying hair.

“This ‘evil man’ as you call him, Revered Daughter, serves a goddess as powerful as Paladine—Takhisis, Queen of Darkness! Or perhaps I should not say serves,” Astinus remarked with a wry smile. “Not of him...”

Crysania’s brow cleared, her cool smile returned. “Good redeems its own,” she answered gently. “Evil turns in upon itself. Good will triumph again, as it did in the War of the Lance against Takhisis and her evil dragons. With Paladine’s help, I shall triumph over this evil as the hero, Tanis Half-Elven, triumphed over the Queen of Darkness herself.”

“Tanis Half-Elven triumphed with the help of Raistlin Majere,” Astinus said imperturbably. “Or is that a part of the legend you choose to ignore?”

Not a ripple of emotion marred the still, placid surface of Crysania’s expression. Her smile remained fixed. Her gaze was on the street.

“Look, Astinus,” she said softly. “He comes.”