Read Online Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night by Margaret Weis - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Weis
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tremble. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breath wheezed and he began to cough. Feeling guilty for having inadvertently caused such anguish, sheflushed and shook her head, biting her lip. “I—I’m sorry to have given you pain. I didn’t mean to.” Confused, she looked down, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face, a girlish habit.
Raistlin leaned forward almost unconsciously, his hand stretching out, trembling, to touch the wondrous hair that seemed possessed of a life of its own, so vibrant and luxuriant was it. Then, seeing before his eyes his own dying flesh, he withdrew his hand quickly and sank back in his chair, a bitter smile on his lips. For what Laurana did not know, could not know, was that, in looking at her, Raistlin saw the only beauty he would ever see in his lifetime. Young, by elven standards, she was untouched by death or decay, even in the mage’s cursed vision.
Laurana saw nothing of this. She was aware only that he moved slightly. She almost got up and left, but she felt drawn to him now, and he still had not answered her question. “I—I meant, can you see the future? Tanis told me your mother was—what do they call it—prescient? I know that Tanis comes to you for advice.…”
Raistlin regarded Laurana thoughtfully. “The half-elf comes to me for advice, not because I can see the future. I can’t. I am no seer. He comes because I am able to think, which is something most of these other fools seem incapable of doing.”
“But what you said. Some of us may not see each other again.” Laurana looked up at him earnestly. “You must have foreseen something! What—I must know! Was it … Tanis?”
Raistlin pondered. When he spoke, it was more to himself than to Laurana. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t even know why I said that. It’s just that—for an instant—I knew—”He seemed to struggle to remember, then suddenly shrugged.
“Knew what?” Laurana persisted.
“Nothing. My overwrought imagination as the knight would say if he were here. So Tanis told you about my mother,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.
Laurana, disappointed but hoping to find out more if she kept talking to him, nodded her head. “He said she had the gift of foresight. She could look into the future and see images of what would come to pass.”
“That is true,” Raistlin whispered, then smiled sardonically. “Much good it did her. The first man she married was ahandsome warrior from the northland. Their passion died within months, and after that they made life miserable for each other. My mother was fragile of health and given to slipping into strange trances from which she might not wake for hours. They were poor, living off what her husband could earn with his sword. Though he was clearly of noble blood, he never spoke of his family. I do not believe he even told her his real name.”
Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. “He told Kitiara, though. I’m sure of it. That is why she traveled north, to find his family.”
“Kitiara …” Laurana said in a strained voice. She touched the name as one touches an aching tooth, eager to understand more of this human woman Tanis loved. “Then, that man—the noble warrior—was Kitiara’s father?” she said in a husky voice.
Raistlin regarded her with a penetrating gaze. “Yes,” he whispered. “She is my elder half-sister. Older than Caramon and I by about eight years. She is very much like her father, I believe. As beautiful as he was handsome. Resolute and impetuous, warlike, strong and fearless. Her father taught her the only thing he knew—the art of warfare. He began going on longer and longer trips, and one day vanished completely. My mother convinced the Highseekers to declare him legally dead. She then remarried the man who became our father. He was a simple man, a woodcutter by trade. Once again, her far-sight did not serve her.”
“Why?” Laurana asked gently, caught up in the story, amazed that the
Raistlin leaned forward almost unconsciously, his hand stretching out, trembling, to touch the wondrous hair that seemed possessed of a life of its own, so vibrant and luxuriant was it. Then, seeing before his eyes his own dying flesh, he withdrew his hand quickly and sank back in his chair, a bitter smile on his lips. For what Laurana did not know, could not know, was that, in looking at her, Raistlin saw the only beauty he would ever see in his lifetime. Young, by elven standards, she was untouched by death or decay, even in the mage’s cursed vision.
Laurana saw nothing of this. She was aware only that he moved slightly. She almost got up and left, but she felt drawn to him now, and he still had not answered her question. “I—I meant, can you see the future? Tanis told me your mother was—what do they call it—prescient? I know that Tanis comes to you for advice.…”
Raistlin regarded Laurana thoughtfully. “The half-elf comes to me for advice, not because I can see the future. I can’t. I am no seer. He comes because I am able to think, which is something most of these other fools seem incapable of doing.”
“But what you said. Some of us may not see each other again.” Laurana looked up at him earnestly. “You must have foreseen something! What—I must know! Was it … Tanis?”
Raistlin pondered. When he spoke, it was more to himself than to Laurana. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t even know why I said that. It’s just that—for an instant—I knew—”He seemed to struggle to remember, then suddenly shrugged.
“Knew what?” Laurana persisted.
“Nothing. My overwrought imagination as the knight would say if he were here. So Tanis told you about my mother,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.
Laurana, disappointed but hoping to find out more if she kept talking to him, nodded her head. “He said she had the gift of foresight. She could look into the future and see images of what would come to pass.”
“That is true,” Raistlin whispered, then smiled sardonically. “Much good it did her. The first man she married was ahandsome warrior from the northland. Their passion died within months, and after that they made life miserable for each other. My mother was fragile of health and given to slipping into strange trances from which she might not wake for hours. They were poor, living off what her husband could earn with his sword. Though he was clearly of noble blood, he never spoke of his family. I do not believe he even told her his real name.”
Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. “He told Kitiara, though. I’m sure of it. That is why she traveled north, to find his family.”
“Kitiara …” Laurana said in a strained voice. She touched the name as one touches an aching tooth, eager to understand more of this human woman Tanis loved. “Then, that man—the noble warrior—was Kitiara’s father?” she said in a husky voice.
Raistlin regarded her with a penetrating gaze. “Yes,” he whispered. “She is my elder half-sister. Older than Caramon and I by about eight years. She is very much like her father, I believe. As beautiful as he was handsome. Resolute and impetuous, warlike, strong and fearless. Her father taught her the only thing he knew—the art of warfare. He began going on longer and longer trips, and one day vanished completely. My mother convinced the Highseekers to declare him legally dead. She then remarried the man who became our father. He was a simple man, a woodcutter by trade. Once again, her far-sight did not serve her.”
“Why?” Laurana asked gently, caught up in the story, amazed that the
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