Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [31]
The mage collapsed. His head with its sparse white wispy hair lolled back onto the floor, his eyes with their cursed vision closed. The hand that held the orb went limp, but its fingers did not relax. It held the orb fast in a grip stronger than death.
Little more than a heap of bones garbed in blood-red robes, Raistlin lay unmoving amid the papers that littered the spell-blasted library.
Astinus stared at the body for long moments, bathed in the garish purplish light of the two moons. Then, his head bowed, the historian left the silent library, closing and locking the door behind him with hands that shook.
Returning to his study, the historian sat for hours, gazing unseeing into the darkness.
6
Palanthas.
I tell you, it was Raistlin!”
“And I tell you, one more of your furry-elephant, teleporting-ring, plants-living-off-air stories and I’ll twist that hoopak around your neck!” Flint snapped angrily.
“It was too Raistlin,” Tasslehoff retorted, but he said it under his breath as the two walked along the wide, gleaming streets of the beautiful city of Palanthas. The kender knew by long association just how far he could push the dwarf, and Flint’s threshold for irritation was very low these days.
“And don’t go bothering Laurana with your wild tales, either,” Flint ordered, correctly guessing Tas’s intentions. “She has enough problems.”
“But—”
The dwarf stopped and gazed grimly at the kender from beneath bushy white eyebrows.
“Promise?”
Tas sighed. “Oh, all right.”
It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t feel quite certain he had seen Raistlin! He and Flint were walking past the steps of the great library of Palanthas when the kender’s sharp eyes caught sight of a group of monks clustered around something lying on the steps. When Flint stopped for a moment to admire some particularly fine piece of dwarven-crafted stonework in a building opposite, Tas took advantage of the opportunity to creep silently up the stairs to see what was going on.
To his amazement, he saw a man that looked just like Raistlin, golden-colored metallic skin, red robes, and all, being lifted up off the stairs and carried inside the library. But by the time the excited kender ran across the street, grabbed Flint, and hauled the grumbling dwarf back again, the group was gone.
Tasslehoff even ran up to the door, banging on it and demanding entrance. But the Aesthetic who answered appeared so horrified at the thought of a kender coming into the great library that the scandalized dwarf hustled Tas off before the monk could open his mouth.
Promises being very nebulous things to kenders, Tas considered telling Laurana anyway, but then he thought of the elfmaid’s face as it had appeared lately, wan and drawn from grief, worry, and lack of sleep, and the soft-hearted kender decided maybe Flint was right. If it was Raistlin, he was probably here on some secret business of his own and wouldn’t thank them for dropping in on him uninvited. Still …
Heaving a sigh, the kender walked on, kicking stones with his feet and looking around the city once more. Palanthas was well worth the look. The city had been fabled even during the Age of Might for its beauty and grace. There was no other city on Krynn that could compare to it, at least to human thought. Built on a circular pattern like a wheel, the center was, literally, the hub of the city. All the major official buildings were located here, and the great sweeping staircases and graceful columns were breathtaking in their grandeur. From this central circle, wide avenues led off in the directions of the eight major compass points. Paved with fitted stone (dwarven work, of course) and lined with trees whose leaves were like golden lace year-round, these avenues led to the seaport on the north and to the seven gates of the Old City Wall.
Even these gates were masterpieces of architecture, each one guarded by twin minarets whose graceful towers rose over three hundred feet into the air. The Old Wall itself was carved with