Chapter Two

The next day, Dalamar poked his head into his Shalafi's bedchamber, but only heard the even breathing of a man still deep in slumber. He had read up last night and this morning about head injuries from a book borrowed from the Great Library. What was read within caused more worry even as it dissolved others.

Sleep was normal, and it looked like sleep would likely be all that Raistlin would feel like doing for the next week, maybe even more. Maybe then, once all the sleep had allowed the injury in his head to heal perhaps his memory would start to come back in little fragments, but, and this was cause for even Dalamar to panic if it got to that point, there was no guarantee that his Shalafi would regain all of his memory, or even part of it. There was an equal chance of him simply having to 'start all over' again in life.

Dalamar rather suspected, given Raistlin's patience with things normally, how this turn out.

Raistlin would simply give up, and quite possibly take it as a sign from the Gods that perhaps it just had not been meant to be and simply withdraw from the magic, withdraw from whatever ambition he had held so close to his own heart for so long (mostly since he would not even remember what it was anymore...) and maybe even go back to Solace.

If he remembered where Solace was and what it was supposed to mean to him, anyway. Dalamar well remembered that conversation earlier in the morning when he had brought Raistlin breakfast...

"Shalafi?" called Dalamar quietly.

The lump in the bed shifted and Raistlin rolled over to sleepily face his apprentice that stood in his doorway and held a tray with a steaming bowl on it. "Yes?" he asked, blinking his eyes in vague confusion.

"I thought you might like some breakfast," he began, laying the tray on the bed stand as Raistlin pushed himself up into a sitting position. "How is your head this morning?"

"Sore," answered Raistlin honestly. "I still have a headache, but the pain isn't so bad as it was last night."

"Good," said Dalamar. "That means you're feeling better. I bet you haven't had this treatment since you left Solace."

"Since I left where?" asked Raistlin.

Dalamar paused then. "You... you were born and raised in a small town in Abanasinia... it was called Solace. You had family there."

Honestly, Dalamar rather suspected that her perhaps still had family there, but he had no way of knowing for sure. It was safer to assume that his family, like him, had simply moved on or were all dead. Raistlin had been extremely closed about where his family was or who they were. Par-Salian had told Dalamar of a possible brother or a sister, but the sister was a Dragon Highlord and was definitely not still in Solace and brother was known for also taking mercenary jobs as well. Par-Salian had also told him that Raistlin's parents were long dead and he didn't know of any other family that the archmagus might have...

Dalamar had begun to poke his nose into his Shalafi's notes for mention on the sister since she seemed to be the better lead but he had yet to even find mention of even her name. So far, the only record in the sketchy records of the Dragonarmies from that war of a Majere was Raistlin himself. No other had been found.

Raistlin seemed to struggle to remember but in the end shook his head, "I... barely remember trees. Big trees. A woman I think may have been my mother and always worrying about her."

"Anything else?"

"No."

No other prodding had been able to shake loose a more recent, or even specific, memory than that.

Little did Dalamar realize that his questioning had also attracted attention...

A man in leather armor spoke to a guard at the door, warily eyeing the latest eruption from the volcanoes that surrounded Neraka. Finally, he was allowed in where a woman who was pacing could be seen. She wasn't dressed at all and there was another man hurriedly dressing himself as he left with a nasty look in the first man's direction. Clay didn't let this affect him.

At first the Dark Elf's question about another possible Majere in the Dragonarmy didn't ring any bells. His scant records that he had kept for Ariakan he had burned before the Solamnics could use it for evidence against him. As it was, he had been banned from certain parts of Solamnia.

It was his photographic memory that served him however, this memory that did not need written documents simply because he could remember things without having to be asked or told about it once, even in passing. A memory that could remember what Ariakan had eaten that morning the Half-Elf had betrayed them for the Golden General... and a memory that once the right push had been given remembered what connection the name 'Majere' had with Tanis... and led him to the Blue Lady herself as another connection.

Which was why he was here now. He saluted and said, "Lady Kitiara Uth Matar, General of the Blue Dragonarmy, I am glad you found time to meet with me."

"Cut the crap and tell me what was so bloody important that I had to cut more enjoyable pursuits to actually see you," said the dark haired nude woman as she leisurely dressed in her clothing and dragon scale armor.

"I had an interesting conversation with a Dark Elf, my lady. One that appears to be about your brother..." he began, and she yawned.

"So what?"

"The Dark Elf was looking for possible relatives of Raistlin Majere..." Clay smiled slightly. "It appears that there was some sort of accident in the Tower of High Sorcery and that Master Majere was gravely injured."

Kitiara lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward, "Now, that's news. Sick I expected. On death's door, that would have hardly moved me one way or the other. But Raistlin never gets 'gravely injured'. The Dark Elf say anything about what happened?"

A black robed woman moved at the side, "Indeed, hearing about an archmagus being injured is interesting rumor, one that cannot be confirmed. But the existence of such a rumor bears investigating."

Kitiara turned to the woman, "There are days I wish you wouldn't sneak around like that."

The Black Robe simply shrugged, "It is how I learn most of my news."

Kitiara made a gesture clearly meaning 'get on with it' as she settled into her chair. Clay continued, "I believe the Dark Elf was trying to get information on family to 'jog his Shalafi's memory'. It appears that Majere fell, struck his head, and may not remember who or even what he is."

Both Kitiara and the Black Robe jumped at this, but the Black Robe seemed far more interested when she asked, "How did you come by this?"

"Well, the Dark Elf suggested it in the way he was asking questions," answered Clay. "He asked about if there was another Majere in the dragonarmy. I asked why and wouldn't Raistlin be better equipped to answer that, and he said, 'My Shalafi is unable to.' I naturally asked why that would be and if the archmagus was dead and the elf promptly told me in no uncertain terms that he was most certainly alive but abed after a rather nasty fall. I simply put two and two together."

The Black Robe and Kitiara looked at each other for a moment. Both had their uses for one very powerful archmage and no memory. The Black Robe left in a swirl of robes, gone as if she had never been. Clay had heard that wizards could come and go as if on air, but seeing one disappear into thin air was a bit startling. Kitiara frowned, then motioned to Clay, "Tell me, did you catch this Dark Elf's name?"

"I believe it was Dalamar..."

The Black Robe materialized in her lab at Wayreth, packing a few essentials that she would need for the trip to Palanthas, secretly gloating over her fortune. It would likely take Kitiara a few days to organize, but she still had to move swiftly as Kitiara had her dragon Skie. Finally, with a few final touches Ladonna was ready for her ultimate victory.

Raistlin winding up with no memory about himself was more than simply fortunate for Ladonna, it was the boon she had been begging Nuitari to give her for years. She knew he was a more powerful wizard than she but also knew that with the right push the power struggle present at the Conclave would forever be in her hands.

All she had needed was the right weight on the balance and an amnesiac Raistlin Majere was that weight she needed.

Her things packed she cast the spell that would take her to Palanthas for her best deception yet... the Aunt that Raistlin never knew he had...

Kitiara also packed her things in a frenzy, the sleepy Clay watching from the bed as she packed and dressed in her armor. He was suitably rewarded, a satisfying tumble with the loose, but hard to get, Blue Lady and a heavy pouch full of steel coin for his information. He knew that he would be hard challenged to survive getting out of Neraka but he was sure he could pull it off. He remained as he was, pretending to be asleep until she was gone then slid out of the bed, made it look like he was still in the bed, took his sword and hid.

On cue Kitiara's lieutenant came in and plunged his blade into the lump he thought was Clay, then pulled back the covers to slit his throat. The look on the man's face was priceless. Even more priceless when Clay reached out and opened him up from gut to neck to silence any cries of warning before they could be made. Clay then put the man in the bed after stripping him of his clothes. Dressing in the discarded armor that the man had left the night before and strapping on the man's own sword after cleaning it, Clay said, "I find it highly ironic that I got more from the Blue Lady than you did. See ya around, mate. Too bad it didn't work out..."

With that he simply walked out of the front door unchallenged and unharmed. It would a few hours before anyone bothered to check the Blue Lady's room and by then Clay would be miles away and unable to be tracked.

Sometimes it simply paid to be a little bit smarter than the average mercenary...

Dalamar paced in his Shalafi's study. His research had turned up nothing and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he had simply heard wrong. A spectre appeared and said, "A woman is here claiming to be the Shalafi's aunt. Shall I turn her away?"

His aunt? Dalamar turned in surprise and said, "Did she give a name?"

"Marinda Talvines," answered the spectre as Dalamar mouthed the name, his brow knitting. "She claims its his mothers side, as she's Rosamun Talvines Uth Matar Majere's younger sister."

First, Dalamar started at this. Rosamun Majere had definitely been a name that he had run across in Raistlin's earlier journals on his childhood as the name of his mother. Another was the name Uth Matar.

Of course.

The Blue Lady, his half-sister. Dalamar mentally slapped himself on his forehead for missing such an obvious clue, "No, let her in. Treat her as a guest and bring her up here. Tell her that his condition is grave, though, and he will likely not know or remember who she is if they have ever met."

The spectre disappeared and Dalamar suddenly realized that if it had slipped to one relative more would show. Abyss, there would also be people claiming him as a relative to milk the unfortunate archmagus for steel and other comforts so long as Raistlin did not actually remember if they were family or not.

Either way, Marinda deserved investigating. A few moments later, after seeing that guest rooms, with suitable locks on them and other areas also not to be seen by laypeople were also locked off, he greeted the woman.

Ladonna held in a breath as Dalamar swept in, obviously hurried and distracted. Then again, if Ladonna's own master had injured himself enough to lose his memory she could imagine the feeling. The magical skin cream and other ointments on her served to change her appearance and she had dyed her hair a grey auburn. It hurt to see her perfect hair with a single silver hair, but if she appeared too young the deception would be up too swiftly. Dalamar gave a slight bow as he walked in and she inclined her head.

Ladonna had done her research. Rosamun had been a Solamnic lady before eloping Gregor Uth Matar and allowing him to take her to Solace and far from the Palanthian pampering she was used to. It took only a little bit of acting to achieve the Palanthian House Matriarch attitude and a dress that would have paid for numerous of the better houses in Solace to achieve her aim. Dalamar took in the obvious money and bearing, and bowed a little lower, "Lady Talvines. It is an honor and a surprise to find you willing to step onto these grounds."

"Nonsense, Apprentice," she stated, her usual accent that would gave given her away in a second covered by the differently cultured one. "I can see by my nephew's belongings in even a lowly guest room that this Tower is befitting a noble Lord once one gets past that horrible grove. And it is an effective method of keeping the ignorant masses at bay."

Dalamar's eyebrows lifted slightly. Well, if attitude was a measure of relation, he could definitely see where Raistlin got his superiority complex...

A/N: And we'll leave it there or the story will be all finished in a few long chapters... I don't think this story will be as long as others I've written, but we'll see.