Okay folks, I'll keep this short to compensate for chapter length: I. Don't. Own. Raistlin. The only way I ever will is if action figures are released with the movie. And I apologize to Raistlin fans everywhere: not only for my portrayal, but also...ahh, just read.
Let's boogie.
Judecca, Canto VIII: Raistlin
"Uuffffh." Lyon flopped down on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. "All those...kids, running and screaming around the...library. I thought libraries were...quiet places. What a day."
What a day, indeed. I ignored him, scowling furiously as I turned down the covers of the bed next to his. Not where I'd originally intended to sleep when I designed the house; I'd had a separate room all to myself in the plans with a double bed, but that idiot elf had to dump all of his problems on my doorstep and mess up my sleeping arrangements. Now Yamaki and his tagalong were in the double bed in the next room, and I...
"Raistlin? Is there going to be a light on somewhere? I don't want to run into anything in the middle of the night and wake you up."
...I was with a necromancer who wanted a blasted night-light. "Shirak," I barked at the Staff of Magius, which began to glow with a faint, sulky light in the corner. Huddling in the covers, I turned off the electricity with a wave of my hand and squeezed my eyes shut. Lyon was a fool, but he had a point. I had underestimated the distractions that working in a library would bring, especially as head librarian. All day, people had worriedly told me that "they'd lost the book" or "the audiobook kept skipping" or "how dare you make us pay that seventy-five cent fine." I decided to make Feanor circulation manager. Then no one would come to me with those problems anymore. In fact, after two weeks of Feanor, no one would have the guts to complain at all. Perhaps he would actually be an asset.
And perhaps a horde of elephants with my brother riding a pink one in the front would come flying through the window. I had not needed Feanor here. I had not wanted Feanor here. Even if he hadn't been on a mission at the time I implemented this plan—a mission now apparently completed, and which I was planning on using to my advantage; he couldn't keep that artifact on his person forever—he and his gods-cursed son would not have been invited. I was going to have to speak with Lain. Soon.
Because I'd lied to my companions about finding this world. I hadn't found it. I'd designed it. And it had been functioning perfectly...until Curufinwe Feanaro appeared on my doorstep, leaving me no choice but to house him if I were to maintain my companions' trust, trust which I had to hold for the plan to work out. Of course, was the plan still working even now?
There were lumps in my mattress. It was like sleeping on potatoes. I could only imagine what that arrogant stress-case and his nursemaid were doing in my real bed. From across the room I heard a faint snuffling sound: Lyon was already asleep. Dreaming the restful dreams of the feeble-minded, no doubt, the simpletons' revenge on their sharper comrades. We hold the keys to the world...but they are better prepared to unlock the mysteries in the morning.
To my disgust, I felt my throat begin to sieze up. Not again. If I started coughing now, I would never get to sleep. I flung off the covers and staggered to the door. Perhaps if I made it to the kitchen—and my tea—in time...
I bumped my foot on something in the dark hallway and fell, the shock jolting the fit into fruition. My body heaved as I coughed, feeling my insides straining and warping with each spasm, and tears stung my eyes. Behind me in my wavering vision, the Staff's too-faint light winked gloatingly from the doorway.
Soren's room shouldn't have been too far off. Apprentices were useful for just such emergencies. "Soren!" I managed to croak between retches. "Apprentice!" Too soft. He didn't come. "Soren!" Still no one.
Behind me, a door opened. No. Anyone but them.
"What's...oh my God, are you all right?" Warm arms wrapped around me, helped me to my feet. "Do you need medicine?"
"Tea. Kitchen." Too few people realize that sentences are actually a luxury. "Soren."
"He's fast asleep. Here. I'll help you. Just hold on." Slowly she walked me down the hall, cradling my body in hers, nearly carrying me down the stairs. Yamaki failed to make an appearance. I wasn't surprised.
We made it into the kitchen; I collapsed at the table, my head swimming from lack of oxygen, and she hurried to the stove to warm the water. I got a good look at her for the first time; though my cursed eyes did not reveal to me the beauty that was so apparent to her employer, the fact that she was wearing nothing but a skimpy silk night-shirt could not escape me. At least I'd interrupted them. The thought jabbed me with spiteful pleasure...then the fit jabbed me harder and I lay my head down on the table. Where was Soren? Better him than her. I didn't need her pity.
Something warm and steaming touched my lips; she'd added the herbs herself from the pouch I'd hung on the wall for easy access. Eagerly I gulped the mixture down, though it was still searingly hot—the bitter fire burnt away the thicket in my lungs. Taking a deep breath, I frowned and smacked my lips. I hadn't been mistaken. The tea tasted differently than usual, less revolting (though I'd gotten used to it after years of shameful reliance). Almost...spicy.
"What did you do to it?" I asked, sipping the mug on my own power this time. That spice again, rather sweet and definitely familiar.
"It smelled disgusting, so I threw some cinnamon in." She sat down next to me with the pot of liquid, ready if I needed a refill. "I didn't want you to throw it up from revulsion."
"Thank you for that delicate mental image. Women truly are the more refined sex." I took a deep draught of the tea.
She sighed. "I'm sorry about earlier. It just came as a shock, that's all, waking up here and...not knowing anyone. And Yamaki...well, he misses Hypnos already. It's his whole life, and it's the life I've chosen to support. He doesn't hate you so much as the situation."
"As I seem to be the cause of the situation, it amounts to much of the same thing. I'm going to bed. And Riley..." I stood, refusing to face her.
"Yes?" she asked almost hopefully. No doubt waiting for the simple "thank you" that even her lover refused her on a regular basis.
"Next time that happens, I want Soren to care for me. It should be part of his duties, which he is already lax in learning." Let her chew on that all night. Serves her right for stealing my bed. "Good night."
o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
"Good morning, Raistlin."
That statement didn't deserve an answer. It was anything but a good morning. "Lyon, explain something to me." I finished tying my pouches to the belt of my outfit—garments Ken referred to as "street clothes"; while searching for the world prior to the War of Souls I had learned much of other dimensions and had picked a design similar to the boy's homeland—and retrieved my staff from the corner. "How is it that a man can nearly die just outside--" He was putting his chest armor on over his T-shirt. "Oh, never mind."
"No, Raistlin. I really care. What do you need to know?" His eyes were wide, helpful, moist-looking and young. He looked like a puppy—or maybe Caramon.
"There is no point in asking a question for which I already know the answer," I replied dismissively. "And take off that armor. It'll do you little good if we're attacked anyway."
Leaving him there, I made my muggy way back into the kitchen, where I found the rest of my household already up and about. Apparently I was the only one with a defective sleeping area. That could easily be altered.
"Cupimon, don't burn your fingers reaching inside the toaster. I'll get the toast for you. Oh, hi, Raistlin. Um...your shirt's on inside out." Ken frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"
"I most certainly am not 'okay'," I retorted, sitting at the head of the table and shooting a glare at Soren, who was picking at an omelet to my right. "I almost died last night and my apprentice failed to come to my aid."
"I didn't know," Soren argued automatically. "Don't scold me for what I can't help." He stabbed his food viciously with his fork, scowling in such a way that the heavy purplish-grey rings below his eyes stood out. Maybe I was not the only one who had slept poorly...but if so, then he really had no excuse for his absence last night.
"It's alright, Soren," said Riley, spooning hotcakes onto a platter in the center of the table, then onto the plate in front of the man whose head was thoroughly buried in his newspaper. "He's fine now. Your food's ready, Yamaki." He grunted, and the plate disappeared behind the paper as well.
Wordlessly I watched her serve me. "You know something?" she asked. More things than you, I thought, but decided that being tired was no excuse for childishness and remained silent. "I have something to help you." She bustled away and soon returned with yet another mug—but not of tea this time. "Ever have coffee? On our world we use it to help wake up. It makes you more alert."
I took the mug, deciding if I drank the blasted thing it would make us even and then I could stop feeling awkward around her. Even after my purposely callous behavior last night, she was still trying to be helpful. I'd picked her for that very trait, figuring in a house full of Recovering Evil Madmen three or four egos would be bruised at any given time and would need mediation, but I regretted not remembering how annoying that kind of person was.
Fortunately, the brew was pleasant, and I was able to drink the whole thing without gagging. Certainly much richer than I was used to—and I had a feeling the acidity would be bothering my stomach soon—but going down, it was quite nice.
Then the aftertaste kicked in, and I grimaced. How sour. The effects came later.
O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
She was having her revenge after all. I'd been tricked, and now I was dying.
"What do you want from me?" Soren demanded. "You knew I was a mercenary. We attack and defend things for clients. Of course I specialize in combat spells."
"You don't just specialize. You're limited." Oh, gods, my heart. My heart was going to hammer itself right out of my chest. The coffee had not made my eyelids any lighter, my head any clearer. The sour aftertaste still tainted my mouth. I was fidgety and exhausted at the same time. And I had an essentially useless apprentice.
We were off in the forest just inside Judecca's boundary, in a clearing I had special-ordered, though of course Soren thought I'd happened upon it once and then taken him there. Not wanting to face head librarianship immediately, I'd decided to see which aspects of my apprentice's arcane knowledge would need the most expanding.
It was staggering. His powers were immense, but he only knew variations of three basic spells, all of which were martial in nature. There was more to magecraft than wind, fire, and lightning! Did they truly hold it in such low regard on his home continent? Normally I enjoy a challenge, but getting Soren to listen to me was troublesome enough without his being unable to cast a simple sleep or binding spell. Where would we start? How could I round out his abilities? Would I even be able to, since his world's magic was not the same as mine? Was there yet another flaw in my plan?
I couldn't think straight. I was going to explode from all the nervous energy jittering through my veins. If I actually had felt awake, it would have been more tolerable, but to want to sleep and yet be this frantic...My chest shook, and I started coughing. "Tea!" I commanded. Soren remained standing there, in the charred and windswept area in which he'd exhibited his paltry powers. "What are you just standing there for, you dolt?" I gasped. "Fix me my tea."
He didn't. He just stood there and watched, calculations clicking behind his scarlet eyes. "I'm not a slave," he replied. "Lyon said I have to take care of you, but I don't owe you that. You let Ike be taken. You aren't strong."
I'd show him strength!...once I could breathe again. "Don't leave me," I pleaded breathlessly as he turned around. "Look at you, at how little..." Winded, then better, relatively speaking. "...you can do. You need me. I can teach you..."
"No." He began to slowly walk away. "I don't need anything but combat skills for what I have to do. You are not my client. And Ike is my leader. I have to save him. I don't need you for that. I was a fool to think I did." His shoulders heaved; was he crying? "I couldn't sleep last night. I laid up, thinking about what he'd said to me. What he...called me. And I realized something. You tricked me just like Kaizer. The only person I can depend on is myself. So goodbye, Raistlin. Make Lyon your apprentice. He's the only one gullible enough for you. I'll be back for you to take us home. And if you refuse, you'll realize how much I really know about magic."
Threatening me? He was threatening me? I tried to laugh and ended up crying aloud in pain as my lungs twisted. Stupid fool, I thought, watching him walk away. Stupid blasted stubborn fool. You need me. All of you, here in my game within a game, need me. But you're too blinded by your own pride to see it! I have to make you see...if my internal organs let me live out the day.
I lay there in the forest, exhausted by the coughing yet wired by the coffee and adrenaline, for countless minutes. Then, when the spasms subsided and I could stand, I brushed myself off and teleported away. I had some shopping to do.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
It was called the Black Sheep Apothecary and Convenience Store, and it was run by two men called Cain and Kain.
"Hello, Raistlin," said Kain, moving his lance aside so I could enter the sliding door. "He's in the back."
"Thank you." Kain—fully armored despite the trappings of the world—was more a shoplifting prevention device for the other proprietor than anything else. He was a dragoon, a man of war and few words. He knew next to nothing about prescription drugs or potions.
Fortunately, the man in the back was an expert. Specifically, on poisons.
"Greetings, Raistlin," Cain Hargreaves said, smirking from where he stood on a high ladder, dapper in his clean white shirt, his ever-present cane tucked under one arm as he retrieved a vial from the top shelf. "How may I serve today? I just received a new shipment of aconite, and arsenic is on sale." He never had any of his "special" items out. The Black Sheep looked just like an ordinary drug store...on the outside.
"Nothing from your collection today, my dear Earl." I took a folded piece of paper from my pocket and slid it across the polished counter to him as he dismounted the ladder. "Though the offer is tempting." I liked Cain, which was rare for me; I'd run across him, like so many others, as I searched for Krynn. Seemingly cursed, he too suffered the slings and arrows of the undeniably maladjusted. And, while I disapproved of his occasional womanizing, he was a cunning and secretive snoop well-known for meddling in affairs that should have been none of his business. We had much in common, Cain and I.
Picking up and unfolding the paper, Cain gave a low whistle. "What are you cooking up, exactly?"
"A spell. A potion. Of unusual strength and effect." I'd never cast this particular spell before—that is, I knew a variation, but I was experimenting with this version for the first time. And I would be doing it on myself.
Cain busied himself collecting the ingredients on the list. "I pity the poor sap who gets hit with this concoction." I smiled to myself, knowing he would poke and pry until he found out the identity of aforementioned sap. And then he'd get a surprise.
Laughing at me with his gold-green eyes, Cain pushed the bag of ingredients across the counter to me, drawstring pulled tight. "On the house," he remarked almost diffidently. "Provided I hear a full report of the effects."
"Believe me," I replied, accepting the bag with an equally smirking smile, "no one will be better qualified to inform you."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
The potion was prepared. The coffee's effects had subsided. Yet I was still jumpy.
"It didn't hurt the gully dwarves," I muttered to myself, remembering the variation I'd successfully cast. But I'd changed so much...even the application...what if it turned out to be poison after all?
Even worse, what if it never wore off? What if they never found the keyword? I'd leaked the anticipated effects onto the internet, knowing Ken at least if not Yamaki would search for answers there (I myself had little use for the place, which I suppose lent my situation with Lain a bit of unneeded irony), and considering where I was casting it (library bathroom) I knew they had a host of resources at their disposal. There was nothing to be worried about. Everything would be fine. I would have control again...except first, I would have to relinquish it.
What if Soren lived up to his promise about attacking Kaizer and got himself killed? Where would that leave me?
"You idiot," I scolded myself, meeting my reflection hourglasses for hourglasses in the mirror. "Either cast it or don't. Just don't stand here dithering!"
The potion gurgled up at me. I glared and the bubbles died down. Perfect. It had a personality. I was going to ingest liquid with a personality.
Dipping a paper cup into the mixture, I held it high. "Here's to you, Soren you dolt," I said aloud, trying not to notice that my hand and voice were shaking.
A gasp came from just outside the door; still holding the potion with my left hand, I flung the door open with my right, releasing the knife bound around my arm with a flick. The blade's point nicked the skin of the spy, and she gave a little cry of fright, her hands going instinctively to the medallion around her neck.
I nearly dropped the cup but smothered my shock. "Not the reunion you anticipated, is it, Revered Daughter?" I asked sibilantly. "Why have you come?" If it didn't mean Judecca would be wiped out of existence, I would murder Lain, I swore. Lumpy mattresses and haughty elves with contraband goods were one thing. This was quite another.
"K-kaizer...he...oh, he's awful, Raistlin, and he wanted me to--"
I noticed the choker around her neck. "Ah. Well, you always acted like a queen. My congratulations."
"No, no, you don't understand!" White-knuckled hands squeezed the medallion even tighter. "I don't want to help him...the way he wants me to. I want to save him..."
I withdrew the knife and laughed aloud. "Was your last endeavor not proof enough? Was being abandoned once not sufficient? What must I do to you now to make you see? Believe me, compared to Kaizer, I am merciful!"
"He's just a boy! And I've learned so much. So much..." Her voice trailed off, her glance dropped away in shame. Such a lovely face. She must have died on Krynn, for my not to notice the signs of age on her body now...
That did it. If I was going to notice things like that, one small potion could do no more harm. I held the cup in front of her blind gaze mockingly. "To you, then, Revered Daughter. It matters not whom I toast. One fool is the same as another." Throwing my head back, I quaffed the mixture.
All of the cinnamon in the world couldn't have prevented this drink from being foul. It bounded almost of its own accord down my throat, hit my stomach with a plop. Then the crawling sensation subsided. I waited, tense, to feel something, anything. Nothing. No tingling in my limbs, no unfocusing of my vision. Crysania pressed herself up against the wall in fear, not certain what was happening but afraid to ask.
"Nothing," I said aloud.
"What?" she asked, eyes wide, staring blankly like a surprised deer.
"Nothing's happened. My potion...didn't work." Unthinkable! I refused to believe it, but it could not be denied. The potion wasn't working. How embarrassing.
I must have looked a fool, standing there quivering with fear over a useless concoction. Funny, really! Hysterical! I, Raistlin Majere, who nearly became a god, can't mix a few ingredients together and get the result I want!
"How wonderful!" I told Crysania, warmth filling me. "The potion didn't work! I had nothing to be afraid of! I'm such a fool, Crysania, such a fool. Worse than my brother, than dear old blundering Caramon. Poor puppy-eyed Caramon." I missed him. Why wasn't he here to laugh at this with me? Everyone should be laughing at me! I wanted everyone to know the joy I felt right now!
"Raistlin, what's wrong with you?" she cried, shirking away.
"Nothing's wrong! That's what's funny! The potion didn't work! Look at me--" I wiggled my fingers in the air, said a few spidery words. "No fireball. My magic's all used up, all gone. And that was such a marvelous spell..." Oh poor, dear sweet Soren, my crystal purity boy too pure for his manipulative master. You were right to walk away, bless your smart little heart. And Lyon! He and I could perform together! The man whose magic doesn't work and the man whose magic works too well. I bet he still felt bad about those phantoms. I needed to tell him that it was all right, that it was actually quite funny. He thinks he's weak because he's too strong. That's called irony, that is, or maybe paradox. One of those blasted terms tutors are so fond of. The word "tutor" is funny, too.
"Don't you think the word 'tutor' is funny?" I asked Crysania, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. She really was such a beautiful woman. How could I have left her behind? How could I have ever let such a marvelous woman go?
Yet she came back to me! Just like Riley! Oh, wonderful Riley. Yamaki doesn't deserve you...but he's a funny man, too. You have to be a funny man to stick noxious chemicals in your mouth and then light them on fire. No one in their right mind would do that.
"Stop it!" she cried. Was I hurting her? I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt anyone ever again. Oh, I've hurt so many people! So many wonderful people who just wanted me to be okay! Caramon! Where's Caramon? I have to tell him that I'll be a good brother from now on.
"Where's Caramon?" I asked her. She ought to know. They spent a lot of time together, Crysania and Caramon. I told myself not to be jealous. Good brothers don't get jealous. Good brothers understand. Just like good girlfriends come back to their bad boyfriends. Oh, Crysania!
I wonder if good apprentices come back to their bad tutors...I think I need Soren to for some reason...but what? Oh yes. The spell. Well, the spell's not working, so I don't need him for that. But I do need to tell him that I'm sorry. He's right. I shouldn't have let his best friend become a mindless slave. I'll bet that really put a damper on Soren's day—and Ike's too, for that matter. But then again, I've never been a mindless slave. I'll have to try it sometime.
"Can I be your mindless slave?" I asked Crysania. "You're a good woman so I know you'll be a good mistress."
"Mistress?" Crysania wrenched her arm free. "Raistlin, there is something wrong with you! I'll go get help!"
"I need you, Crysania, don't leave me!" She wanted to help me, just like everyone else. People were so nice, and Crysania was the nicest. I felt like I could kiss her, long and hard.
So I did.
O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
a/n: I don't know how to break this to you, Raistlin, but I think you're wrong about that there spell...
FYI, Cain is from "The Cain Saga" by Kaori Yuki, which is composed of the stories "Count Cain" and "Godchild." "Godchild" is currently partially available in America, with "Count Cain" coming out in the fall under the name "The Cain Saga." Confused?
Kain with a "K" is from Final Fantasy IV...thanks, HWB! Now review me!
No blog posting today. I've wasted too much time writing this as is.
Coming up next: Raistlin continues to take a ride on the happy train as the rest of his group frantically tries to get him back to normal...but Kaizer sees his chance and strikes. Lucemon POV...ahem, I mean Cupimon.
Heck, I guess I'll put a picture of Cupimon on my blog so you all know what he looks like. I haven't got any of C/Kain.
See you soon...the sooner, the better. (Raistlin, stop hugging me!)