Chapter 1

Note: This is not the same conclave meeting that takes place in Time of the Twins, beginning in Chapter 12. Caramon, Tas and Bupu are not present; Raistlin is not yet ready to leave. Dalamar, however, has both discovered/been told Raistlin's plans and been punished for his "extracurricular" activities.

A sneering voice rang through the hall. "You are a fool, Great One!"

... "I think you should explain yourself, Dalamar," Par-Salian said quietly. "Why am I a fool?"

...Dalamar sneered. "He does not plan to conquer the world! The world means nothing to him. He could have the world tomorrow, tonight, if he wanted it!"

"Then what does he want?" This question came form a red-robed mage seated near Par-Salian.

The delicate, cruel features of the dark elf relaxed into a smile. "he wants to become a god, Dalamar said softly. "He will challenge the Queen of Darkness herself. That is his plan."

The mages said nothing, they did not move, but their silence seemed to stir among them like shifting currents of air as they stared at Dalamar with glittering, unblinking eyes.

Then Par-Salan sighed. "I think you overestimate him."

There was a ripping, rending sound, the sound of cloth being torn apart. The dark elf's arms jerked, tearing open the fabric of his robes.

"Is this overestimating him?" Dalamar cried.

The mages leaned forward, a gasp whispered through the hall like a chill wind. ...

"You see the mark of his hand upon me," Dalamar hissed. "Even now, the pain is almost more than I can bear." The young elf paused, then added through clenched teeth, "he said to give you his regards, Par-Salian!"

The great mage's head bent. The hand rising to support it shook as with palsy. He seemed old, feeble, weary. For a moment, the mage sat with his eyes covered, then he raised his head and looked intently at Dalamar.

"So, our worst fears have been realized." Par-Salian's eyes narrowed questioningly. "He knows, then, that we sent you--"

"To spy on him?" Dalamar laughed, bitterly. "Yes, he knows!" the dark elf spit the words. "He's known all along. He's been using me –using all of us – to further his own ends....You are wise to be afraid, Great One." Dalamar's voice sank to a whisper. "But no matter how great your fear, you do not fear him enough. Oh yes, he lacks power to cross that dread threshold. But that power he goes to find. Even as we speak, he is preparing himself for the long journey. Upon my return tomorrow, we will begin--"

Par-Salian raised his head. "Your return?" He asked, shocked. "But he knows you for what you are—a spy, sent by us, the Conclave, his fellows." The great mage's glance went to the chair that stood empty amidst the black robes, then he rose to his feet. "No, young Dalamar. You are very courageous, but I cannot allow you to return to what would undoubtedly be tortured death at his hands."

"You cannot stop me," Dalamar said, and there was no emotion in his voice. "I said before—I would give my soul to study with one such as he. And now, though it costs me my life, I will stay with him. He expects me back...."

"He expects you to return?" the red-robed mage said dubiously. "You who have betrayed him?"

"He knows me, said Dalamar bitterly. "He knows he has ensnared me. He has stung my body and sucked my soul dry, yet I will return to the web. Nor will I be the first..."

From Time of the Twins

Par-Salian did not have to call them. Once the Conclave had disbanded and the wild-eyed Dalamar withdrew, Par-Salian retreated to his study. He rematerialized in a room at the top of the tower only to find the heads of the other two orders on his heels.

Ladonna, the head of the Black Robes, stood with her arms folded and her spine straight as a poker, her eyes glittering gimlet-bright in her still beautiful face. Justarius limped over to a chair and, with the barest glance of assent from Par-Salian, lowered himself heavily onto the overstuffed cushion. The head of the Red Robes' usually jovial face was tense and drawn. He absently rubbed at his crippled leg, sighing deeply. Par-Salian slowly groped to the chair behind the alter-like desk of white stone like a blind man.

Ladonna spoke first. "We can't leave Dalamar alone with him."

"You know him better that I," Par-Salian said. "Is there no way we can stop him?"

"Not without deadly force. So unless you wanted to simply keep the pleasure of killing Dalamar from him..."

Par-Salian glared at her. "I won't stop him."

"Then you certainly can't let him go alone."

"And what should I do? Send another? Let him savage the body and destroy the soul of another of our brightest young lights?"

Ladonna's steel frame seemed to soften the barest fraction. "We can no longer rely on Dalamar alone. While I do not believe he would intentionally keep anything from us, his spirit is no longer his own. He is serving two masters now, and that tension will tear him apart. We must send a second."

"It will be the same, Ladonna--"

"They don't need to be ours for long. A few months is all we'll need. If they are swallowed by the same darkness, so be it; we will have what we need."

Par-Salian hung his head. He sat broken and nerveless, as though all of his joints had been clipped.

Ladonna lowered herself into the remaining chair, leaned forward. She seemed to stop just short of reaching out for him. "It is a terrible price, Old Friend," she said quietly. "We knew that when we decided on this course of action. If there is any hope for us, we must follow this to the end."

Justarius sat up straighter. His face seemed to hold the sorrow of the mountains mourning the dying world. "If this mission is to succeed, I do not see another way either, Great One," the red robe said. "I can't imagine who we would send--"

"There is one."

Ladonna looked at Par-Salian quizzically. After a glace at his face she understood who the aging mage meant and, closing her eyes, gave a tiny nod.

"I did not at first understand why Paladine had called me to test her so early. She must have been meant for this."

Justarius frowned, his countenance like chiselled granite. "No."

"She is by far and away the best choice, my friend," Par-Salian said, his crumpled voice beginning to regain some strength.

"For the love of the gods, Par-Salian, she's a child. He'll rip her apart."

"She performed phenomenally well on her test."

"And we know she is loyal to the Conclave." She met Justarius' eyes. "I know you were hoping to take her on as an apprentice yourself, and I commend the choice. It is a tragedy." Her face hardened. "Just as Dalamar was going to be mine, before this. There are sacrifices to be made, my friend. Dalamar is too loyal now to his Shalafi, to desparate for the knowledge Rastilin has to impart. He will never be ours, fully, again."

Justarius's shoulders fell. "And soon, neither will she. But you are right, Ladonna. It is my turn to feel this sacrifice most acutely."

"We all feel it, my friend." Par-Salian rose, suddenly gaining strength, his resolve shining platinum. "She is the best we have. But would he accept anything less than the best?"

Ladonna and Justarius stood as well, both feeling the weight of the sentence they were pronouncing an you newest of their number. "We should not tell her why she is being sent, initially," Ladonna said then. "Her ignorance will, for a brief time, protect her until she is fully accepted as an apprentice."

Par-Salian nodded. "I'll send a message to Palanthas directly."

Ladonna curled her lip. "be sure to mention that, after Dalamar reported on his ...unique teaching methods, we were wondering if he would considering giving a second apprentice the chance for a similarly exceptional education."

"This is not a joke, Ladonna." Justarius snarled in the doorway.

"Isn't it? I thought the joke had been on us til now..."

Ladonna and Justarius vanished. Par-Salian resumed his seat, drew a fresh scroll and a quill to himself, and began to write to the only other master of a magical tower currently living on Krynn. While he wrote, he began a second composition in his mind: what he was going to tell the young apprentice, very close to the youngest ever to take and survive the test, second only to him. As he imagined what he would say to her, he had to lower his eagle quill with a shaking hand. The Head of the Conclave was temporarily blinded by unbidden tears as he pictured her complete joy at the prospect of what he knew she would believe was the most incredible opportunity of her young life: the chance to study with the greatest magic-user in the world.