Chapter Two: Confusion Abounds

Raistlin woke with a pounding headache, and a dry, sore throat. He groaned and squinted his eyes half-open, as he looked for his water mug.

"Shalafi?" said a smooth voice from his left. Raistlin sat up, staring wildly about him, then squeezed his eyes shut, coughing a little. He recognized nothing in his surroundings.

He opened them again and took stock. There was an elf sitting across from him, wearing black robes, with a book in his hands and inkstained fingers. The room was lit by lanterns, and it was the sort of room only a very rich man would have. The bed had silk sheets. Nobody in Solace lived like this.

"Who are you?" asked Raistlin.

Something that might have been sadness flickered in the elf's eyes. "My name is Dalamar Nightson. I take it you do not recognise me?"

"Should I?" countered Raistlin. There was something horribly wrong with this whole situation. Where was he, and why was he in some rich man's bed he'd never seen before, wearing a black shirt that was far too big for him, what was this black robed elf doing here, and why did he feel so awful? And for all the richness of décor, this place felt dark and wrong in a way he couldn't quite describe.

"Perhaps. What is your name?" said the elf.

"If you know me, then you know my name," said Raistlin.

"I do indeed, Raistlin Majere," said the elf, smiling slightly.

"Where am I and why have you taken me here? Where is Caramon?" demanded Raistlin.

"You are in the Palanthas Tower of High Sorcery. Caramon - your brother?"

"You're lying. The only functioning Tower is at Wayreth!" said Raistlin.

"I do not lie. You can look out the window if you don't believe me."

"It's dark," said Raistlin uneasily.

"Palanthas is never entirely dark even at night. It looks nothing like the forest of Wayreth."

Raistlin frowned. He couldn't see much of anything out the window from this angle. He slid his legs out of bed and stood up gingerly, walking the few steps to the window. He looked down. There was darkness immediately at the base of the tower, but beyond that a blaze of lights spread out below him, lighting streets and houses for what looked like miles. Raistlin swallowed. Wherever he was, it most certainly was neither Solace nor Wayreth.

He looked again at Dalamar, taking in the elf's black robes, pouches and book and shivered.

"You should probably go back to bed," said Dalamar.

"You're a Black Robe, aren't you?" asked Raistlin.

"Yes," said Dalamar. "I won't eat you, child."

Raistlin stared at him for a few moments. "Does the Conclave know you've broken into the Palanthas Tower?"

Dalamar smirked. "Oh, they know I'm here, never fear. Now get back into bed unless you hope to catch a cold."

Not sure what else to do, Raistlin went back over to the bed and wrapped the covers round himself. "Why have you kidnapped me?" he asked.

Dalamar brushed his hair back from his face, smirking again.

"It's not funny!" said Raistlin. "Take me home. Car will be worried sick and so will mother. I want to go home." He felt the start of tears and wiped angrily at his eyes. Not now!

"Let me tell you a story," said Dalamar. "That is what one does with children, isn't it?"

Raistlin glared at him, little knowing that Dalamar's snark was at the thought of how much less intimidating that glare appeared on a child than it did on his Shalafi.

"Well, once upon a time a powerful mage managed to break the curse on the Tower of Palanthas. After that, he invited another mage to live in the tower of Palanthas, and study all the forgotten magics that had been lost since the Cataclysm. One of the mages experimented with a time travel spell, but there was a problem with one rune, and instead of travelling backwards in time, time rebounded on him, turning him into a child who remembered nothing of the great and powerful mage he had been. His name is Raistlin Majere, and the current year is 354 AC."

"Oh." said Raistlin. He was silent for a minute or so, then realized a pressing need. "Where's the bathroom?"

Dalamar blinked. "Down the hallway on the left."


Dalamar was awakened early the next morning by a Spectre. "Wake up. Something is wrong with the Master."

Dalamar rubbed his eyes, the events of the past day flooding back into his mind. "What now?" he asked, grabbing a dressing gown from the closet.

"Master started screaming, then started crying," said the Spectre.

"He's in his quarters?"

The eyes nodded.

"I'll be right down." Dalamar ran up a couple of stories worth of stairs, stopping right outside his Shalafi's bedroom. "Raistlin, are you all right in there?" he asked.

There was a pounding of feet, and the door burst open, clouting Dalamar in the face as something determinedly wrapped itself around his middle. Dalamar staggered backwards a couple of paces, looking down to find Raistlin clinging frantically to him.

"What on Krynn's the matter?" demanded Dalamar, mentally shoving away the fireball spell that had come to mind.

"There's ghosts! And dead things with teeth that are moving!"

Dalamar closed his eyes. "This is the bedroom of a Black Robe. You were expecting pretty flowers?" He frowned. "The toothy creatures are still in their jars, aren't they?"

Raistlin raised a tear-streaked face, gulped, and nodded.

Dalamar sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.


Raistlin felt thoroughly lost and bewildered that first day. Dalamar reassured him that the spectres would not harm him, but that wasn't true of many other things in the tower, or of the things in the Shoikan grove outside. The morning was spent combing through adult Raistlin's quarters and either moving or warding anything Dalamar considered potentially dangerous.

With Master Theobald, Raistlin would probably have contested his decisions, but with Dalamar Raistlin didn't dare. The dark elf had real power and his Robes suggested he might not be that careful in how he used it. Also, Raistlin was very glad to lose the toothy creatures. He had enough trouble with nightmares without things like that lying around. He didn't have Caramon to scare them away.

He was less pleased to lose access to adult Raistlin's journals and spellbooks. Surely he could look at a couple of the earliest ones?

"That one's mine," Raistlin announced, pointing at Sleight-of-hand techniques to Amaze and Delight. "I want it."

"Why do you have a book on sleight of hand?" asked Dalamar.

"I can't do real magic yet, but I can do this."

Dalamar shrugged. "Keep it, then. I will, however, be taking the journals."

"Why do you need them?"

"Raistlin effectively died without telling me everything I need to know."

"Then you don't think you'll change me back."

"I can't," Dalamar admitted. "I can't even read the spell he was using, much less invent my own altered version of the miscast spell. I might kill you trying."

Raistlin pondered this for a moment, then screwed up his courage to ask the question that had been bothering him all morning: "Why are you being nice to me?" Raistlin asked.

"Would you rather I were cruel?" asked Dalamar.

"No," said Raistlin. "But you're evil. It's confusing."

Dalamar sighed and sat down in the armchair nearest the bookcase. "As my Shalafi, Raistlin Majere was the most brilliant mage I have ever met, indeed, possibly the greatest to ever walk the face of Krynn. I honor him for this, though sometimes…" Dalamar trailed off, a look of fear in his eyes that shocked Raistlin.

"Did he hurt you?" Raistlin asked.

"Oh?" Dalamar blinked. "Well, nothing much. I just knew that he could any time he chose to."

I don't want to be evil, thought Raistlin uneasily, as Dalamar went back to perusing the bookcases. I'm not sure I like my older self.


A/N: this is before Raistlin burned holes in Dalamar's chest, so Dalamar hates Raistlin less than when you see him in Legends. He also doesn't want to admit to child Raistlin just how nasty adult Raistlin could be when he wanted to.