Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [37]
“And the day came when the populace rose against the magic-users. And for only the second time in the history of the Order, the Robes came together. The first time was during the creation of the dragon orbs which contained the essences of good and evil, bound together by neutrality. After that, they went their separate ways. Now, allied by a common threat, they came together once more to protect their own.
“The magicians themselves destroyed two of the Towers, rather than let the mobs invade them and meddle with that which was beyond their understanding. The destruction of these two Towers laid waste to the countryside around them and frightened the Kingpriest, for there was a Tower of High Sorcery located in Istar and one in Palanthas. As for the third, in the Forest of Wayreth, few cared what became of it, for it was far from any center of civilization.
“And so the Kingpriest approached the magic-users with a show of piety. If they would leave the two Towers standing, he would let them withdraw in peace, removing their books and scrolls and magical implements to the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth. Sorrowfully the magic-users accepted his offer.”
“But why didn’t they fight?” Laurana interrupted. “I’ve seen Raistlin and … and Fizban when they’re angry! I can’t imagine what truly powerful wizards must be like!”
“Ah, but stop and consider this, Laurana. Your young friend, Raistlin, grew exhausted casting even a few relatively minor spells. And once a spell is cast, it is gone from his memory forever unless he reads his spellbook and studies it once more. This is true of even the highest level mages. It is how the gods protect us from those who might otherwise become too powerful and aspire to godhood itself. Wizards must sleep, they must be able to concentrate, they must spend time in daily study. How could they withstand besieging mobs? And, too, how could they destroy their own people?
“No, they felt they had to accept the Kingpriest’s offer. Even the Black Robes, who cared little for the populace, saw that they must be defeated and that magic itself might be lost from the world. They withdrew from the Tower of High Sorcery at Istar, and almost immediately the Kingpriest moved in to occupy it. Then they abandoned the Tower here, in Palanthas. And the story of this Tower is a terrible one.”
Astinus, who had been relating this without expression in his voice, suddenly grew solemn, his face darkening.
“Well I remember that day,” he said, speaking more to himself than to those around the table. “They brought their books and scrolls to me, to be kept in my library. For there were many, many books and scrolls in the Tower, more than the magic-users could carry to Wayreth. They knew I would guard them and treasure them. Many of the spellbooks were ancient and could no longer be read, since they had been bound with spells of protection, spells to which the Key … had been lost. The Key …”
Astinus fell silent, pondering. Then, with a sigh, as if brushing away dark thoughts, he continued.
“The people of Palanthas gathered around the Tower as the highest of the Order—the Wizard of the White Robes—closed the Tower’s slender gates of gold and locked them with a silver key. The Lord of Palanthas watched him eagerly. All knew the Lord intended to move into the Tower, as his mentor, the Kingpriest of Istar, had done. His eyes lingered greedily on the Tower, for legends of the wonders within, both fair and evil, had spread throughout the land.”
“Of all the beautiful buildings in Palanthas,” murmured Lord Amothus, “the Tower of High Sorcery was said to