Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [119]
“Put this out of your mind!” the voice told him. “Your brother is dead. Tanis is dead. Riverwind, Goldmoon, Tika—all dead. Good riddance. They weakened you, diminished you. Now that you are free of them, you will go far. I will see to that.”
You won’t see to anything! Raistlin thought dourly, only to immediately cut the thought short. He waited tensely to hear the derisive laughter echo in his mind, but the lich had either not heard or he’d decided to ignore it.
Raistlin had been hearing the lich’s voice yammering in his head all morning and he was fast becoming a nuisance. Worse than a nuisance. Fistandantilus was a distinct threat.
Last night, Raistlin Majere had been dying. This day, he was alive and as well as he could ever be, which meant that he had to stop every so often, for when his frail body was shaken by fits of coughing he could barely stand, much less walk. He had Fistandantilus to thank for his life, just as he had him to thank for having survived the Test in the Tower of High Sorcery.
Fistandantilus seemed to think that Raistlin’s soul was to be his reward. The lich was going to be disappointed. Now that Raistlin’s soul was finally his own, he was not going to meekly hand it over to Fistandantilus.
Raistlin considered that the lich had done well out of the deal he’d made with Raistlin in the Tower. The lich was, after all, leeching part of Raistlin’s life force in order to cling to his existence on whatever dark plane he inhabited. As far as Raistlin was concerned, the two of them were now even. It was time to end their bargain. He couldn’t figure out how to do that, however, without Fistandantilus knowing about it. The lich was constantly lurking about, eavesdropping on Raistlin’s thoughts. There had to be a way to shut the door and lock the windows.
Raistlin left the central part of Old City behind and with it the crowds. The streets he walked were lined with shops and warehouses and businesses. The streets were known by their trade, so that there was Iron-Mongers Street and Butcher’s Row and the Horse Fair and Goldsmith Way. Raistlin walked on until he came to the street where wool merchants plied their trade. He was searching for the business he needed when he glanced down an alleyway and saw a mageware shop.
The shop was small, a mere hole in the wall. Raistlin was surprised that someone had even bothered to open a shop dealing in objects related to the use of magic in Palanthas. He knew of only wizard who resided in the city and that was Justarius, head of Raistlin’s own order, the Red Robes. Raistlin supposed there must be others. He’d never given the matter much thought.
His steps slowed. The mageware shop would have what he sought. It would be costly. He could not afford it. He had only a small sum of steel coins, hoarded up and hidden away. He had to save that for lodging and food in Neraka, the city to which he would soon be traveling. As soon as his business in Palanthas was done.
Besides, the owner of the mageware shop would be bound to report his purchase to the Conclave. They could not stop him, but he would be summoned to Wayreth, called upon to explain himself. Raistlin didn’t have time for all that. Events were happening; momentous, world-changing events. The end was coming. The Dark Queen was going to be victorious. Raistlin did not plan to be one little person on the street corner cheering as she rode past in triumph. He planned to be leading the parade.
Raistlin walked on, coming at last to the place he’d been seeking. The smell alone should have guided him. The business was located in a large, open-air yard filled with stacks of wood to stoke the fires. Smoke from the flames mingled with steam rising the huge kettles and vats. The neighborhood was redolent with the odors of the various ingredients used in the process, some of which were not at all pleasant.
Raistlin covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and, clutching his bundle, entered a small building located near the compound where the work was going on. Inside was a clerk on a stool writing