Dragons of the Hourglass Mage dc-3 Read online

  They returned to Wizard's Row, and Raistlin understood why almost all the shops were boarded up and shuttered. He marveled that Snaggle managed to stay in business. Then again, being the only mageware shop in Neraka must have its advantages.

  Raistlin resisted Iolanthe's pleas to stay for the evening meal. He was worn out, his exhaustion coming as much from discouragement and unhappiness as from any physical cause. He wanted to be alone, to think through all that had happened and decide what to do. And he had another reason for not wanting to remain around her. He did not like Iolanthe's continued teasing references to marbles. He did not consider it likely that she had figured out the truth about the dragon orb, but he did not dare take the risk.

  Raistlin was polite, but firm in his refusal to stay. Unfortunately, when Iolanthe saw that he meant to have his way, she said she had nothing better to do. She would accompany him to the Broken Shield. They would dine together there.

  He tried to think of some way of discouraging Iolanthe without hurting her feelings. Her friendship had already been of benefit to him, and he foresaw how she could be useful to him in the future. She could also be a formidable enemy.

  He wondered why she was so insistent on dogging him, and, as he listened to her idle chatter as she moved around the apartment, tidying up the room, the realization struck him. She was lonely. She was hungry to talk to another wizard, someone like herself, who understood her goals and aspirations. His thoughts were confirmed when she turned to him to say, "I have the feeling we are very much alike, you and I."

  Raistlin smiled. He almost laughed. What could he, a frail young man with strange-colored skin and stranger eyes, have in common with such a beautiful, exotic, intelligent, powerful, and self-possessed young woman? He wasn't attracted to her. He didn't trust her or even much like her. Every time she brought up marbles in her mocking tone, he could feel his skin crawl. Yet what she said was true. He did feel a kinship to her.

  "It is the love of the magic that binds us," she said, answering his unspoken thought as clearly as if she had heard it. "And the love of the power the magic can bring us. Both of us have sacrificed comfort, safety and security for the magic. And we are both prepared to sacrifice still more. Am I right?"

  Raistlin did not answer. She took his silence for his response and went into her bedchamber to change her clothes. He was resigning himself to being forced to spend the evening with her, which meant the strain of keeping a guard on everything he said and did, when he heard footfalls on the stairs leading to her apartment.

  The feet were heavy, and there was a scraping sound, as of claws on wood. When Iolanthe came out of her room, she grimaced, as though she knew what the sounds meant.

  "Oh, damn," she said softly and flung open the door.

  A large bozak draconian, his wings brushing the ceiling, stood on the landing.

  "Is this the lodging of Mistress Iolanthe?" asked the bozak.

  "Yes," said Iolanthe with a sigh. "And I am Iolanthe. What do you want?"

  "The Emperor Ariakas has returned to grace Neraka with his august presence. He requests your attendance upon him, madam," said the bozak. "I am to escort you."

  The draconian's gaze shifted from her to Raistlin and back to Iolanthe. Seeing the reptilian eyes flicker dangerously, Raistlin rose to his feet, bringing the words of a deadly spell to his mind.

  "I see you have company, madam," continued the bozak in a dire tone. "Have I interrupted something?"

  "Only my dinner plans," said Iolanthe lightly. "I was going to dine at the Broken Shield along with this young man, a novice wizard, newly arrived in Neraka. The Emperor will be interested to meet him, I think. This is Raistlin Majere, brother to Dragon Highlord Kitiara."

  The bozak's suspicious attitude disappeared. He regarded Raistlin with interest and respect. "I hold your sister in high esteem, sir," he said. "As does the Emperor."

  "He only tried to have her executed," Iolanthe whispered to Raistlin as she handed him linens and a blanket, which she had told him he would need for his new lodging.

  Raistlin stared at her, shocked at that news. What did she mean? What had happened? Were Ariakas and Kit enemies? More to the point, how would it affect him? Raistlin was desperate to know details, but Iolanthe only grinned at him and winked, well knowing she had just ensured the fact that he would be certain to seek out her company.

  "You remember how to find your way to the Broken Shield, Master Majere?" she asked.

  "Yes, madam. Thank you," said Raistlin humbly, playing his part.

  Iolanthe held out her hand to him. "It may be some time before I see you again. Good-bye and good luck to you."

  Under the watchful eyes of the bozak, Raistlin stuffed the bed linens into a sack and gathered up his possessions. He did not take the Staff of Magius. He did not even glance at it as he left it standing in a corner. Iolanthe caught his eye and gave a slight nod in reassurance.

  Raistlin made a deep bow to Iolanthe and another to the bozak. He slung the sack with the bed linens and his spellbooks and few belongings over his shoulder. Feeling like a peddler, he hurried down the staircase. Iolanthe held a lantern at the top to light his way.

  "I will stop by the Tower tomorrow to see how you are coming along with your work," she called when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

  She shut her door before he could answer. The bozak remained waiting for her on the landing.

  Raistlin walked into the street, which was empty that time of night. He missed his staff, missed its shining light, the support it lent his weary steps. The sack was heavy, made his arms ache.

  "Here, Caramon, you carry this-"

  Raistlin stopped. He could not believe he had said that. He could not believe he had thought that. Caramon was dead. Furious with himself, Raistlin walked rapidly down the street, his way lit by the red rays of Lunitari and the silver rays of Solinari.

  The Dark Queen's temple came into view. The moons' feeble light seemed incapable of reaching the Temple. The twisted towers and bulbous minarets caused the moons to shrink, the stars to vanish. Its shadow fell upon him, and he was crushed beneath it.

  If she wins the war, her shadow will fall on every person in the world.

  I did not come to serve. I came to rule.

  Raistlin began to laugh. He laughed until the laughter caught in his throat and he choked on it.

  6

  Forces of the Dark Queen The search. The find. 8th Day, Month of Mishamont, Year 352 AC

  Being a Treatise on the Subject of the Advisability of the Using of Parrots as Familiars, with Particular Emphasis on Teaching Said Birds the Words to Magical Spells, and Remarks on the Unfortunate Consequences Resulting Therefrom.

  Raistlin gave a deep sigh. Tossing the manuscript into a large crate he had labeled "Ineffable Twaddle," he gazed in gloomy despair at the pile of manuscripts, books, scrolls, and various other types of documents that surrounded him. He'd been working for hours, all day the previous day and most of this day, sitting on a footstool, sorting through crap. The crate was almost full. He was half suffocated from the dust, and he could not tell that he had made any progress.

  Iolanthe had been right. There was nothing of value in what could only be laughingly termed a "library." The high-level Black Robes must have taken their spellbooks and scrolls with them when they departed. Either that or, as Iolanthe had said, the books had been sold.

  He resumed his task and was rewarded by unearthing a spell-book, nicely bound in red leather. He thought he'd stumbled across a treasure until he opened it to find it was a child's primer, a book meant to teach aspiring young wizards the art of spellcasting. He was flipping through it, thinking back to his own school days-the torment he endured, his inept teacher-when he heard a commotion outside the front door of the Tower. Someone began pounding on the door.

  "Open in the name of Her Majesty the Queen!"

  Down the hall from him, the three old men broke into panicked shrieks at the clamor. Raistlin rose to his feet.


  "It's the Temple guards!" cried Hook Nose, peering out a filthy window. "The elite Temple guards! What do we do?"

  "Let them in," said Paunchy.

  "No, don't," said the third, whom Raistlin had dubbed Scrawny.

  Raistlin made his way through the piles of junk to the door, which was standing wide open. Slowly and silently, he shut the door, leaving it open only a crack, and peered out.

  The pounding on the door and the shouting continued, as did the arguing among the Black Robes. Eventually Hook Nose decided they should open the door; his reason being that if they did not, the guards would break it down, and the Black Robes would have to pay the landlord for the damage.

  Raistlin kept his eye to the door. A contingent of draconians entered and climbed the stairs, their claws leaving scratch marks on the wood.

  "I am Commander Slith," barked one. "I have orders to search the premises."

  "Search? For what? This is an outrage," said Hook Nose, his voice trembling.

  "It has come to the attention of Queen Takhisis that a powerful and potentially dangerous magical artifact has entered the city of Neraka," Commander Slith said in sonorous tones. "As you know, by law, all magical artifacts must be brought to the temple for evaluation and registration. Those artifacts which are deemed a threat to the good people of Neraka will be confiscated in the interests of public safety."

  Raistlin thought immediately of the Staff of Magius, and he was thankful it was safely hidden in his room in the Broken Shield, tucked under the mattress. Security appeared to be somewhat lax around the Broken Shield, and he had been worried about thieves. He was puzzled however. The Staff of Magius was powerful, and it could be dangerous, but Raistlin did not think it was powerful enough to attract the attention of the Dark Queen.

  "We know the law," Hook Nose was saying in angry tones. "And we have always obeyed it. We have no artifacts of any sort here."

  "What about Mistress Iolanthe?" asked Paunchy eagerly. "She has dangerous artifacts. She doesn't keep them here, though."

  "You should search her," prompted Scrawny.

  "We have spoken to Mistress Iolanthe," said Commander Slith. "We met with her in the private chambers of Emperor Ariakas. Mistress Iolanthe assures us that she has no knowledge of this artifact. She gave us permission to search her apartment. We didn't find it."

  "Why do you think we would have it?" Hook Nose demanded.

  "We believe that some of you are members of Hidden Light," said Commander Slith.

  Raistlin saw the sivak wink at one of the other soldiers.

  "Hidden Light! No, no, no!" Hook Nose was babbling in terror. "We are all of us loyal subjects of our glorious Queen, I assure you!"

  "Good. Then you won't mind if we search the building," said the commander coolly.

  "Please do. We have nothing to hide. What is this artifact?" Hook Nose asked with pathetic eagerness. "We will be glad to hand it over to you if we find it."

  "A dragon orb," said Commander Slith, and he ordered his detail to separate, sending some to the lower levels, some to the upper, and some to search the ground floor.

  "Dragon orb?" Hook Nose glanced at his fellows.

  "Never heard of it," said Paunchy, and Scrawny shook his head.

  Commander Slith rattled off the description. "A crystal ball the size of a man's head. It can either be nondescript in appearance or it may swirl with color." He yelled at his men, "If you find anything that fits this description, don't touch it. Summon me at once."

  Raistlin left the door, stumbling over books as he made his way back to his stool, hardly seeing where he was going. He pulled his cowl low, picked up a sheaf of parchment pages, and pretended to be absorbed in studying the contents. The words swam before his eyes. His hand crept to the leather pouch he wore on his belt, the pouch that was filled with marbles. None were as large as a man's head, but one of them indeed swirled with color.

  He could hear wood splintering-the draconians on the lower level were kicking in the doors. His first panicked impulse was to shove the pouch underneath a stack of books or hide it behind a row of shelving. He swiftly regained command of himself and thought through the problem. Hiding the pouch would be the worst thing he could do. If the draconians discovered it, they would guess at once that it contained something valuable. Draconians were smart and they were users of magic. They would soon figure out that a large crystal globe known to possess magical properties might be able to reduce itself to a small size.

  Far better to keep the pouch on his person, hidden in plain sight. He could hear the draconians chanting spells. He could not distinguish the words, but he knew the type of spell he would cast if he were searching for a hidden magical artifact. He would use a spell that would detect magic, cause the artifact to reveal itself, perhaps glow with light or make a humming sound.

  Raistlin reached into the pouch. His sensitive fingers could distinguish the dragon orb from the other marbles by feel alone. The marbles were cool to the touch. The orb was slightly warm and its surface was far smoother, its shape more perfectly round.

  Other draconians were searching the kitchen, flinging pots and pans to the floor, banging the door of the pantry, breaking crockery. They would reach the library next.

  Raistlin took hold of the orb and clasped it in his hand, closing his fist over it. What if the orb gave itself away? What if the orb wanted to be found by Queen Takhisis? What if the orb had told Takhisis where to find it?

  The orb grew warm in his hand. Viper's voice whispered to him. Takhisis fears the orbs. She seeks to destroy the orbs. She knows the danger we pose. Keep me safe and I will keep you safe.

  The door to the library flew open, and two bozak draconians entered. They stopped dead in the doorway to stare.

  Raistlin thrust the orb back into the pouch and rose respectfully, smoothing his robes with his hands and keeping his head bowed as though too frightened to lift his eyes.

  "Commander, you better come see this," called the bozak.

  Commander Slith strode into the room. He glanced around at the stacks and bundles and piles and snorted with disgust.

  "Looks like gully dwarves have been living here," he said. The sivak eyed Raistlin. "Who in the Abyss are you?"

  Hook Nose came bustling importantly through the door. "He's nobody, Commander. A novice. He does odd jobs for us. Look at the mess you've created, Majere! Get this cleaned up at once!"

  "Yes, Master," said Raistlin. "I am sorry, Master."

  "Are we going to search through all this junk, sir?" the bozak asked as Hook Nose hurried off to complain loudly about the fact that the draconians had scattered flour all over the kitchen floor. "It will take weeks!"

  "Cast your spell and be done with it," replied Commander Slith. "Mistress Iolanthe warned us that coming here would be a waste of time, and she was right."

  "Do you trust the witch, sir?" the bozak asked doubtfully. "What makes you think she hasn't got the orb herself?"

  Commander Slith chuckled. "The witch has a strong sense of self-preservation. She knows that her life wouldn't be worth spit if Takhisis caught her with a dragon orb."

  "What is a dragon orb, anyway?" The bozak kicked at a stack of books and sent them tumbling. "What does it do?"

  "Beats me. All I know is that the orb was responsible for the Blue Lady losing the Battle of the High Clerist's Tower, or so I heard." Commander Slith rubbed his clawed hands. "I'd love to get my hands on it. Several people I know will pay a good price for it."

  "Pay for it?" The bozak was shocked. "If we find it, we're under orders to give it to the Nightlord immediately."

  Commander Slith shook his head sadly and draped his arm around the bozak's shoulders. "Glug, my boy, I keep trying to educate you. You never 'give' anything to anyone."

  "But our orders-"

  "Orders, shmorders!" Slith sniffed in disdain. "Who gives us orders? Humans. And who's losing this war? Humans. We dracos have got to start looking out for ourselves."

  The bozak
glanced nervously out the door. "I don't think you should be talking like that, sir."

  Raistlin was sweating beneath his robes. He could do nothing except stand in the middle of the library, keeping his head down. He was afraid to move, afraid to draw attention to himself.

  "This dragon orb must be powerful," Slith said longingly, "and worth a bundle. We've never been ordered to institute a citywide search for any kind of magical artifact before."

  "Just that Green Gemstone Man, that Berem fellow," said Glug.

  "I'd like to find him and earn that bounty." Slith smacked his lips. "I could buy a small city with the reward the Queen is offering!"

  "A city, sir?" said Glug with interest. "What would you do with a city?"

  Raistlin thought he would go mad if they stayed here much longer. His hands clenched beneath his robes.

  "I'd build a wall around it," Commander Slith was saying. "Make it a city for dracos only. No humans, dwarves, elves, or any of the rest of that scum allowed inside. Well, maybe I'd let in a few dwarves," he conceded. "Keep my friends and me in dwarf spirits. I'd name it-"

  He was interrupted by shouting.

  "All finished downstairs, Commander! No sign of anything." "Finished upstairs, sir!" called out another. "Nothing of interest."

  "Cast your spell, Glug, and let's get out of here," said Commander Slith. "That foul stench coming from the kitchen is turning my stomach."

  The bozak spoke a few words and waved a clawed hand. Under other circumstances, Raistlin would have been interested to study the bozak's spellcasting techniques. He was far too tense to pay any attention at the moment, however.

  He held his breath, keeping his head lowered, his hands in his sleeves, his sleeves hiding the pouch. He saw in terror a telltale glow emanating from his left arm.

  Raistlin's heart pulsed in his throat. His mouth went dry. His body shook. He prayed to all the gods of magic, prayed to every god he could think of, that the draconians would not notice. For a moment, he thought his prayers had been answered, for the bozak turned away. The sivak was about to follow when he glanced back over his shoulder. The sivak stopped.