Time of the Twins

“I’m going to get him back,” Caramon said finally, tears gleaming in his eyes. “If he can go back in time to meet this old wizard, so can I. You can send me back. And when I find Fistandantilus, I’ll kill him. Then Raist will be...” He choked back a sob, fighting for control. “He’ll be Raist again. And he’ll forget all this nonsense about challenging th—the Queen of Darkness and... becoming a god.”

The semi-circle broke into chaos. Voices raised, clamboring in anger. “Impossible! He’ll change history! You’ve gone too far, Par-Salian—”

The white-robed mage rose to his feet and, turning, stared at every mage in the semi-circle, his eyes going to each individually. Tas could sense the silent communication, swift and searing as lightning.

Caramon wiped his hand across his eyes, staring at the mages defiantly. Slowly, they all sank back into their seats. But Tas saw hands clench, he saw faces that were unconvinced, faces filled with anger. The red-robed mage stared at Par-Salian speculatively, one eyebrow raised. Then he, too, sat back. Par-Salian cast a final, quick glance around the Conclave before he turned to face Caramon.

“We will consider your offer,” Par-Salian said. “It might work. Certainly, it is not something he would expect—” Dalamar began to laugh.

13

“Expects’?” Dalamar laughed until he could scarcely breathe. “He planned all of this! Do you think this great idiot”—he waved at Caramon—“could have found his way here by himself? When creatures of darkness pursued Tanis Half-Elven and Lady Crysania—pursued but never caught them—who do you think sent them? Even the encounter with the death knight, an encounter plotted by his sister, an encounter that could have wrecked his plans—my Shalafi has turned to his own advantage. For, undoubtedly you fools will send this woman, Lady Crysania, back in time to the only ones who can heal her—the Kingpriest and his followers. You will send her back in time to meet Raistlin! Not only that, you’ll even provide her with this man—his brother—as bodyguard. Just what the Shalafi wants.”

Tas saw Par-Salian’s clawlike fingers clench over the cold stone arms of his chair, the old man’s blue eyes gleamed dangerously.

“We have suffered enough of your insults, Dalamar,” Par-Salian said. “I begin to think your loyalty to your Shalafi is too great. If that is true, your usefulness to this Conclave is ended.”

Ignoring the threat, Dalamar smiled bitterly. “My Shalafi—” he repeated softly, then sighed. A shudder convulsed his slender body, he gripped the torn robes in his hand and bowed his head. “I am caught in the middle, as he intended,” the dark elf whispered. “I don’t know who I serve anymore, if anyone.” He raised his dark eyes, and their haunted look made Tas’s heart ache. “But I know this—if any of you came and tried to enter the Tower while he was gone, I would kill you. That much loyalty I owe him. Yet, I am just as frightened of him as you are. I’ll help you, if I can.”

Par-Salian’s hands relaxed, though he still continued to regard Dalamar sternly. “I fail to understand why Raistlin told you of his plans? Surely he must know we will move to prevent him from succeeding in his terrifying ambitions.”

“Because—like me—he has you where he wants you,” Dalamar said. Suddenly he staggered, his face pale with pain and exhaustion. Par-Salian made a motion, and a chair materialized out of the shadows. The dark elf slumped into it. “You must go along with his plans. You must send this man back into time”—he gestured at Caramon—“along with the woman. It is the only way he can succeed—”

“And it is the only way we can stop him,” Par-Salian said, his voice low. “But why Lady Crysania? What possible interest could he have in one so good, so pure—”

“So powerful,” Dalamar said with a grim smile. “From what he has been able to gather from the writings of Fistandantilus that still survive, he will need a cleric to go with him to face the dread Queen. And only a cleric of good has power enough to defy the Queen and open the Dark Door. Oh, Lady Crysania was not the Shalafi’s first choice. He had vague plans to use the dying Elistan—but I won’t relate that. As it turned out, however, Lady Crysania fell into his hands—one might say literally. She is good, strong in her faith, powerful—”

“And drawn to evil as a moth is drawn to the flame,” Par-Salian murmured, looking at Crysania with deep pity.

Tas, watching Caramon, wondered if the big man was even absorbing half of this. He had a vague, dull-witted look about him, as if he wasn’t quite certain where—or who—he was. Tas shook his head dubiously. They’re going to send him back in time? the kender thought.

“Raistlin has other reasons for wanting both this woman and his brother back in time with him, of that you may be certain,” the red-robed mage said to Par-Salian. “He has not revealed his game, not by any means. He has told us—through our agent—just enough to leave us confused. I say we thwart his plans!”