Raistlin placed the packages on the table and stared at them as if they would reveal the answers to all his problems. The small packages themselves were identical—black boxes bound with ribbons, however one ribbon was gold and one was silver. One was addressed to him while the other was addressed to his apprentice, Dalamar.
It was near Yuletide, but the gold-skinned mage hadn't been expecting any gifts, nice or not.
He hardly ever received gifts; if anything, this was another hate message or inventive assassination attempt. Upon examining the packages for spells and other magical booby traps, Raistlin could tell the quality of the boxes. They were made by humans skilled in the art of decorating and, judging by the ornate wrapping, casing presents.
The method of delivery was a mystery, one that the Master of the Palanthas Tower of Sorcery intended to discover. But the bell had rung to alert him of some being's presence in the Shoikan Grove and the black boxes sat on his doorstep.
The boxes themselves were not enchanted or magical in any way that he could sense, meaning the exterior was safe…but Raistlin remained cautious.
Dalamar arrived and his Shalafi gestured toward the box with the silver ribbon. "We have a secret admirer," the mage whispered dryly.
Black eyebrows rising in surprise, his apprentice picked up his box and read the card aloud, more to himself than his Master. " 'Everyone has one, you were not skipped, though few see it.' " Raistlin's own card had a matching inscription in unfamiliar curvaceous black lettering.
The Black Robe watched as Dalamar tugged an end piece of the silver and the entire ribbon came undone. Sliding the shimmering band into his robes, the dark elf warily opened the box. Raistlin's curiosity piqued when his apprentice peered inside and then paled considerably, sharply sucking in his breath. When the dark elf began blinking tears and smiling like an idiot, the archmage reached for his own parcel and unwrapped it.
Inside was a pearl-colored heart, but the heart was made of layers thinner than the delicate parchment cocooned around it.
Raistlin recognized the pastry—honey wafers.
Silvanesti silver bees produced a rare honey that was impossibly flimsy but utterly desirable and therefore insanely expensive. The honey was mixed with crystal dew and flower pollen. Leaves of plants and flowers from Silvanost was the crystal dew, the plant's life trapped in every precious droplet, each plant gave a distinct flavor. Even richer was the earthly flower pollen.
Normally, the sweets were devoured on special occasions. No one outside the elven country knew the secret of the delicacy's construction.
Surprisingly, the honey wafer heart smelled and looked freshly made.
Raistlin gazed into the black box, surprised. Two honey wafer hearts…
As he fondly smiled softly at the thoughtful gift, the mage wondered how much it had cost the sender and who the sender was.
Dalamar was crying. Stumbling to the other side of the room, he had to set the treat on his table and collapse into a chair. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing, yet smiling. A piece of Silvanesti. Joy and torment tore him in two directions.
Under his honey wafer a card said: I heard you needed a little sunshine.
The Master of the Past and Present lifted his honey wafer creation and sampled a nibble. It melted in his mouth, creating an explosion of flavor. His mouth filled with unmistakable velvet sweetness and tastes he could not describe.
Rose. The flavor was rose.
Raistlin glanced at his weeping apprentice. "Sunshine," the dark elf explained, happily smiling weakly.
"Rose," the Shalafi returned.
Raistlin spotted a white card inside and picked it up before placing his treat into the black box. He read silently: It's been told you smell of rose petals, Master.
The mage smiled wryly from the depth of his cowl. This Yuletide someone had made him smile and his apprentice cry…
All because of a simple act of kindness.