Time of the Twins

“But evil and suffering still remain in the world,” Raistlin persisted.

“Because of such as you!” Crysania cried passionately.

“Ah, no, Revered Daughter,” Raistlin said. “Not through any act of mine. Look—” He motioned her near with one hand, while with the other he reached once again into the secret pockets of his robe.

Suddenly wary and suspicious, Crysania did not move, staring at the object he drew forth. It was a small, round piece of crystal, swirling with color, very like a child’s marble. Lifting a silver stand from where it stood on a corner of his desk, Raistlin placed the marble on top of it. The thing appeared ludicrous, much too small for the ornate stand. Then Crysania gasped. The marble was growing! Or perhaps she was shrinking! She couldn’t be certain. But the glass globe was now the right size and rested comfortably upon the silver stand.

“Look into it,” Raistlin said softly.

“No,” Crysania drew back, staring fearfully at the globe. “What is that?”

“A dragon orb,” Raistlin replied, his gaze holding her fast. “It is the only one left on Krynn. It obeys my commands. I will not allow you to come to harm. Look inside the orb, Lady Crysania—unless you fear the truth.”

“How do I know it will show me the truth?” Crysania demanded, her voice shaking. “How do I know it won’t show me just what you tell it to show me?”

“If you know the way the dragons orbs were made long ago,” Raistlin replied, “you know they were created by all three of the Robes—the White, the Black, and the Red. They are not tools of evil, they are not tools of good. They are everything and nothing. You wear the medallion of Paladine”—the sarcasm had returned—“and you are strong in your faith. Could I force you to see what you did not want to see?”

“What will I see?” Crysania whispered, curiosity and a strange fascination drawing her near the desk.

“Only what your eyes have seen, but refused to look at.”

Raistlin placed his thin fingers upon the glass, chanting words of command. Hesitantly, Crysania leaned over the desk and looked into the dragon orb. At first she saw nothing inside the glass globe but a faint swirling green color. Then she drew back. There were hands inside the orb! Hands that were reaching out...

“Do not fear,” murmured Raistlin. “The hands come for me.”

And, indeed, even as he spoke, Crysania saw the hands inside the orb reach out and touch Raistlin’s hands. The image vanished. Wild, vibrant colors whirled madly inside the orb for an instant, making Crysania dizzy with their light and their brilliance. Then they, too, were gone. She saw...

“Palanthas,” she said, startled. Floating on the mists of morning, she could see the entire city, gleaming like a pearl, spread out before her eyes. And then the city began to rush up at her, or perhaps she was falling down into it. Now she was hovering over New City, now she was over the Wall, now she was inside Old City. The Temple of Paladine rose before her, the beautiful, sacred grounds peaceful and serene in the morning sunlight. And then she was behind the Temple, looking over a high wall.

She caught her breath. “What is this?” she asked.

“Have you never seen it?” Raistlin replied. “This alley so near the sacred grounds?”

Crysania shook her head, “N-no,” she answered, her voice breaking. “And, yet, I must have. I have lived in Palanthas all my life. I know all of—”

“No, lady,” Raistlin said, his fingertips lightly caressing the dragon orb’s crystalline surface. “No, you know very little.”

Crysania could not answer. He spoke the truth, apparently, for she did not know this part of the city. Littered with refuse, the alley was dark and dismal. Morning’s sunlight did not find its way past the buildings that leaned over the street as if they had no more energy to stand upright. Crysania recognized the buildings now. She had seen them from the front. They were used to store everything from grain to casks of wine and ale. But how much different they looked from the front! And who were these people, these wretched people?

“They live there,” Raistlin answered her unspoken question.

“Where?” Crysania asked in horror. “There? Why?”

“They live where they can. Burrowing into the heart of the city like maggots, they feed off its decay. As for why?” Raistlin shrugged. “They have nowhere else to go.”

“But this is terrible! I’ll tell Elistan. We’ll help them, give them money—”

“Elistan knows,” Raistlin said softly.

“No, he can’t! That’s impossible!”

“You knew. If not about this, then you knew of other places in your fair city that are not so fair.”

“I didn’t—” Crysania began angrily, then stopped. Memories washed over her in waves—her mother averting her face as they rode in their carriage through certain parts of town, her father quickly drawing shut the curtains in the carriage windows or leaning out to tell the driver to take a different road.