Read Online Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night by Margaret Weis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Margaret Weis
Ads: Link
usually taciturn mage was so voluble, not knowing that he was drawing more out of her simply by watching her expressive face than he was giving in return.
“The birth of my brother and I for one thing,” Raistlin said. Then, overcome by a fit of coughing, he stopped talking and motioned to his brother. “Caramon! It is time for my drink,” he said in the hissing whisper that pierced through the loudest talk. “Or have you forgotten me in the pleasure of other company?”
Caramon fell silent in mid-laugh. “No, Raist,” he said guiltily, hurriedly rising from his seat to hang a kettle of water over the fire. Tika, subdued, lowered her head, unwilling to meet the mage’s gaze.
After staring at her a moment, Raistlin turned back to Laurana, who had watched all this with a cold feeling in the pit ofher stomach. He began to speak again as if there had been no interruption. “My mother never really recovered from the childbirth. The midwife gave me up for dead, and I would have died, too, if it hadn’t been for Kitiara. Her first battle, she used to say, was against death with me as the prize. She raised us. My mother was incapable of taking care of children, and my father was forced to work day and night simply to keep us fed. He died in an accident when Caramon and I were in our teens. My mother went into one of her trances that day”—Raistlin’s voice dropped—“and never came out. She died of starvation.”
“How awful!” Laurana murmured, shivering.
Raistlin did not speak for long moments, his strange eyes staring out into the chill, gray winter sky. Then his mouth twisted. “It taught me a valuable lesson—learn to control the power. Never let it control you!”
Laurana did not seem to have heard him. Her hands in her lap twisted nervously. This was the perfect opportunity to ask the questions she longed to ask, but it would mean giving up a part of her inner self to this man she feared and distrusted. But her curiosity—and her love—were too great. She never realized she was falling into a cunningly baited trap. For Raistlin delighted in discovering the secrets of people’s souls, knowing he might find them useful.
“What did you do then?” she asked, swallowing. “Did Kit-Kitiara …” Trying to appear natural, she stumbled over the name and flushed in embarrassment.
Raistlin watched Laurana’s inner struggle with interest. “Kitiara was gone by then,” he answered. “She left home when she was fifteen, earning her living by her sword. She is an expert—so Caramon tells me—and had no trouble finding mercenary work. Oh, she returned every so often, to see how we were getting along. When we were older, and more skilled, she took us with her. That was where Caramon and I learned to fight together—I using my magic, my brother his sword. Then, after she met Tanis”—Raistlin’s eyes glittered at Laurana’s discomfiture—“she traveled with us more often.”
“Traveled with whom? Where did you go?”
“There was Sturm Brightblade, already dreaming of knighthood, the kender, Tanis, Caramon, and I. We traveled with Flint, before he retired from metalsmithing. The roadsgrew so dangerous that Flint gave up traveling. And by this time, we had all learned as much as we could from our friends. We were growing restless. It was time to separate, Tanis said.”
“And you did as he said? He was your leader, even then?” She looked back to remember him as she had known him before he left Qualinost, beardless and lacking the lines of care and worry she saw now on his face. But even then he was withdrawn and brooding, tormented by his feelings of belonging to both races—and to neither. She hadn’t understood him then. Only now, after living in a world of humans, was she beginning to.
“He has the qualities we are told are essential for leadership. He is quick-thinking, intelligent, creative. But most of us possess these—in greater or lesser degree. Why do the others follow Tanis?
“The birth of my brother and I for one thing,” Raistlin said. Then, overcome by a fit of coughing, he stopped talking and motioned to his brother. “Caramon! It is time for my drink,” he said in the hissing whisper that pierced through the loudest talk. “Or have you forgotten me in the pleasure of other company?”
Caramon fell silent in mid-laugh. “No, Raist,” he said guiltily, hurriedly rising from his seat to hang a kettle of water over the fire. Tika, subdued, lowered her head, unwilling to meet the mage’s gaze.
After staring at her a moment, Raistlin turned back to Laurana, who had watched all this with a cold feeling in the pit ofher stomach. He began to speak again as if there had been no interruption. “My mother never really recovered from the childbirth. The midwife gave me up for dead, and I would have died, too, if it hadn’t been for Kitiara. Her first battle, she used to say, was against death with me as the prize. She raised us. My mother was incapable of taking care of children, and my father was forced to work day and night simply to keep us fed. He died in an accident when Caramon and I were in our teens. My mother went into one of her trances that day”—Raistlin’s voice dropped—“and never came out. She died of starvation.”
“How awful!” Laurana murmured, shivering.
Raistlin did not speak for long moments, his strange eyes staring out into the chill, gray winter sky. Then his mouth twisted. “It taught me a valuable lesson—learn to control the power. Never let it control you!”
Laurana did not seem to have heard him. Her hands in her lap twisted nervously. This was the perfect opportunity to ask the questions she longed to ask, but it would mean giving up a part of her inner self to this man she feared and distrusted. But her curiosity—and her love—were too great. She never realized she was falling into a cunningly baited trap. For Raistlin delighted in discovering the secrets of people’s souls, knowing he might find them useful.
“What did you do then?” she asked, swallowing. “Did Kit-Kitiara …” Trying to appear natural, she stumbled over the name and flushed in embarrassment.
Raistlin watched Laurana’s inner struggle with interest. “Kitiara was gone by then,” he answered. “She left home when she was fifteen, earning her living by her sword. She is an expert—so Caramon tells me—and had no trouble finding mercenary work. Oh, she returned every so often, to see how we were getting along. When we were older, and more skilled, she took us with her. That was where Caramon and I learned to fight together—I using my magic, my brother his sword. Then, after she met Tanis”—Raistlin’s eyes glittered at Laurana’s discomfiture—“she traveled with us more often.”
“Traveled with whom? Where did you go?”
“There was Sturm Brightblade, already dreaming of knighthood, the kender, Tanis, Caramon, and I. We traveled with Flint, before he retired from metalsmithing. The roadsgrew so dangerous that Flint gave up traveling. And by this time, we had all learned as much as we could from our friends. We were growing restless. It was time to separate, Tanis said.”
“And you did as he said? He was your leader, even then?” She looked back to remember him as she had known him before he left Qualinost, beardless and lacking the lines of care and worry she saw now on his face. But even then he was withdrawn and brooding, tormented by his feelings of belonging to both races—and to neither. She hadn’t understood him then. Only now, after living in a world of humans, was she beginning to.
“He has the qualities we are told are essential for leadership. He is quick-thinking, intelligent, creative. But most of us possess these—in greater or lesser degree. Why do the others follow Tanis?
Similar Books
