A/N: This was originally supposed to be the anniversary chapter Number 30. But then I decided to slip the Halloween-episode in and so my beautiful count was messed up. However, I want to thank all of you for your support and approval. When I started writing this story I hadn't expected to get this far as to even write a chapter 30. It were your kind reactions and comments that kept me from getting distracted and everything. Though originally planned as a more or less simple get-together romance, 'Wishful Thinking' has somehow become a hydra. Whenever I want to go on with the plot another funny idea/absolutely necessary side-plot pops out of nowhere and into my text. Some ideas are too much fun to resist and I have begun to see this more like a series of episodes then a stringent story. Nevertheless, to celebrate the 30 chapters, the chapter is a little bit longer than usual and the main plot sets in again. Yay! (It is was well hidden the last chapters but it is still there. ;) )

And as long as you are still with me, Petalwing will not be afraid to fight the hydra and get this tale written!

Thanks to everybody from a very happy FFwriter.

-wink-

-Petalwing-

Chapter 31 - Through the grapevine and a prophesy

The next morning, when Dalamar and his Shalafi left the room and went to the common room for breakfast, (since the accident Raistlin had insisted on regular meals and often needed two portions to fulfill his sheer insatiable appetite) Dalamar discovered new aspects of the devastating concept of possible humiliation through otherwise perfectly harmless humans. At first he noticed a sweeping housemaid giving them sidelong glances. Though she kept her eyes on the floor most of the time, he caught her staring at Raistlin and him a few times before she finished her work and left. It was still very early in the morning, too early for the majority of customers. At this time of the day, business had not really begun yet, which left only the two mages and a few barmaids and servants in the common room. Dalamar preferred it just like that. Maybe he had lived too long with Raistlin in their self-imposed solitude but he didn't care for the companionship of strangers at all. Here, in the dusky corner with only the few tavernmaids around, he could relax a little and even dared to discard his hood, revealing his elven nature.

That likely explained the curious glances from the bardmaids as they went over to bring them wine and a light meal. Probably they hadn't seen many elves in their lives. Maybe they had even heard rumors of dark elves before and if they recognized him as one... Well, what was considered an unpardonable stain on his reputation among his own people seemed to make him even more fascinating and appealing to humans. Especially if they were females. Not being as naive as his Shalafi, Dalamar was well aware how striking they both looked. Black mages, self-contained, powerful, secretive, mysterious and unattainable. He had watched similar reactions very often. Young women, eager in their desire to flirt with them, still not daring to draw near, held back by superstition and fear. However, this time, there seemed to be more behind the maid's giggles, their whispered chatter and the amused gazes they regarded him with when they thought he wouldn't notice. Raistlin of course didn't notice any of this at all, bread, cheese and gruel occupying him fully.

Dalamar couldn't deny he was curious. The girls had just begun chattering again, pretending to clean the bar. He could hear them mutter under their breath well enough. And they definitely spoke about the early guests.

Commoners in general either overestimated the abilities of a mage or they underestimated them. It was always a satisfying experience to outwit those who practiced the latter. A cynical smile crossed Dalamar's lips before they formed a barely audible spell. Though his keen elven senses enabled him to even catch a word or two of their talk, he now could lean back, listening to the maidens voices as if standing next to them. The superior smile on Dalamar's face, however, vanished as soon as he caught the content of their conversation.

"And you are sure they are gay? I mean they just don't look like-" whispered one.

"What do you know about how they'd look? It's not as if they have a third arm or something."

"But I don't get it, why must two guys looking this good be gay? It's not fair. Its not-"

"Hush! They will hear you. Did you see the handsome elf staring at us? Maybe he knows what we're talking about?"

"Gosh, you must be kidding. They're sitting at the other end of the room."

"And you are sure that Clarice saw them last night?"

"Yes, the elf, he must be awfully jealous and possessive. And the other mage, he moves like a girl by the way. Watched him yesterday, before Freya hooked him up. They way he holds his head, or how he sits, I'm not sure, but it's a little bit girlish. And when the elf found that his... ehem... friend... had left with her, he immediately ran after them. And Clarice, she was cleaning a room in the same floor, she heard that he nearly broke the door when he stormed in and she said she heard them all screaming at each other. And when Freya came out, she wouldn't say a word and hurriedly left the house as if a thousand dark dragons were on her heels, you know? They must have made an appalling scene."

"Do you think they bewitched her or cursed her?"

"Hush, don't speak of such thinks, this will bring bad luck, my grandmother says."

"But I can't help it, I wish I'd been there. Can you imagine the elf being all furious and angry? Poor Freya, getting into the way of mages."

"I wouldn't have liked to see them fighting. I would have liked to see what they were doing later..."

"Oh, you're so depraved!"

Another round of giggles followed, accompanied by a slight blush of Dalamar's cheeks. He couldn't believe what he had just overheard, likewise wishing he hadn't cast the spell. Luckily, the wench had kept her side of the deal, but apparently the lusty housemaids had their own version of the events from the last evening. It was better that way, he tried to tell himself, absently watching his master with a slight look of disdain. Him and Raistlin? What a ridiculous idea. Only human girls could make up a story like that. But on the other hand, objectively, to an outsider it had probably just looked like that. Still, the mere idea was irritating. And what was that about Raistlin moving like a girl? He was a sick man in a destroyed body, and Dalamar had never noticed any especially feminine mannerisms on his Shalafi. At least not before the accident. However, he refused to lavish even one more thought on the meaningless speculations of tavern girls.

He nudged Raistlin slightly, asking him to hurry up and get ready. When they eventually had left the inn, ready to mount the Noxequus, Dalamar suddenly noticed a new pouch dangling from his Shalafi's belt. He recognized it as his pouch with the rhubarb leaf. His missing components. How had they ended up in Raistlin's possession? It couldn't be a mistake since he remembered adjusting the pouch to his own belt the last morning. When had Raistlin taken it? On request, Raistlin appeared as surprised as Dalamar. He shrugged.

"You must have lost it. I probably found it somewhere and mistook it for one of mine. With these many bags and pouches you can mix them all up very easily."

Dalamar shook his head, while Raistlin returned him the pouch.

"Shalafi, you just sounded like a kender."

At that idea, Raistlin froze, staring at Dalamar as if in shock. Finally he shook his head in disgust and sneered. He looked the elf straight into the eyes, the gaze of those cold hourglasses suddenly making the elf shiver in the warm morning air. Raistlin's face was so serious now that he looked nearly like his old self.

"You're kidding." he finally said, looking offended. They mounted their horses. When they both sat in their saddles comfortably, Raistlin again shook his head scathingly.

"Dalamar, sometimes you have really infantile ideas."

At the same time in a juggler's camp...

It was a busy morning in the gypsies' camp. The jugglers were packing, finally preparing to move to the city of Solace which would be their next longer stay. All families moved around their wagons like bees, carrying equipment and putting it into barrels and boxes. Huge tarpaulines had to be folded and packed.

The kender had a great time. Being what they were they couldn't help showing their excitement at the prospect of seeing another interesting town which, according to Tasselhoff, had unbelievingly comfortable jails. To Raistlin's infinite annoyance, the Teketolls had practically adopted Tasselhoff by inviting him to stay with them, and as usual he was sputtering cheerful advice to everybody in reach, regardless whether his audience appreciated his presence or not. Moreover, the kender still hadn't put aside his romantic interests with Raistlin, even though he at least refrained from verbalizing his hopes. That, besides, wasn't necessary anymore to torture the mage; Tasselhoff had very effectively found other ways. Just some minutes ago, he had handed Raistlin a bunch of red roses, -wherever he had gotten these from- instead of a dish the mage had demanded. Tasselhoff had left immediately afterwards, not waiting for Raistlin's reaction. Raistlin had still stood there, startled, pondering how to get rid of the flowers and if they might be put to some use as spellcomponents, when Mrs. Teketoll had climbed in. As soon as she had spotted the roses, she had smiled at Raistlin brightly.

"Oh darling, did you get these from young Tasselhoff? How sweet, he must have found them for you! That is so thoughtful of him! He is a very nice young man, don't you think? Your father and I have already talked about him. We think him very responsible and sensible and-"

At that moment, Naranja unintentionally hastened to his rescue. Being only two persons, she and her mother asked for some helping hands to come over. Raistlin jumped at the opportunity to flee from that conversation and accompanied the young gypsy bard to her wagon. Whatever expected him now, it couldn't be as bad as this caricature of a matchmaker's talk.

When they entered the caravan, the mage immediately smelled a bewitching odor of a herbal incense, used by priests in the south for meditation. Raistlin was familiar with the relaxing effect of the mixture, it was not uncommon among mages to use a similar incense in order to prepare their rituals. Relaxing the body and raising the spirits. As on his other visit, the interior of the caravan was sombre. Thick curtains on the walls and in front of the windows effectively damped the outside noise, creating the atmosphere of a sacred place, untouched by the business of the outside world, where time went at its own pace. Most of the furniture was still unpacked. However, contrary to the kenderfamily, Naranja and her mother hadn't so many things to pack at all. Raistlin spotted Lady Toronja in the backside of the caravan, sitting among cushions, legs crossed. Next to her stood a little bowl with incense and in front of her lay a set of cards. At the girls entrance she took the cards and began to shuffle them. With a graceful, secretive gesture, she beckoned Raistlin to sit down with her. Naranja just shrugged, She was used to this kind of behavior.

"Looks like mother decided to lay the cards for you. Maybe she thinks you need some advice." she whispered into Raistlin's ear and gave him a slight push.

He winced at the touch and stepped forward. The mage wondered whether the fortunetellers invitation was an offer or an order. Meanwhile, he had become curious of the woman's trade. She had a certain reputation in the camp. Every gypsy truly believed in her powers as a seer, so she probably either had real talent or she knew some very convincing tricks at least. Slowly he sat down facing her. Without a word she handed him the cards to shuffle himself. While he was doing this, he felt her scrutinizing, intensive gaze studying him, estimating him. He looked back straight into her eyes, his face giving away no emotion, showing no sign of nervousness. He wouldn't give her any advantage in this game. The fortuneteller merely raised an eyebrow while she took the cards back. Naranja lit some candles. Then she sat down behind Raistlin.

Meanwhile, Lady Toronja turned the first card around, laying it in the middle of the space between them. It was the 'King of Swords'.

"See what you are." Her voice accompanied the gesture as if reciting a poem or a ritual incantation.

"See what hinders you." she continued turning around a second card. She laid it over the first, thus forming a cross. The card showed a female riding on a lion. 'Power' said the card.

"See where you root in."

The next card again belonged to the swords, showing a dead body, lying in a snowy landscape impaled by three swords. Behind him, he heard Naranja give a startled gasp, the card was either important or she hadn't expected that. However, the fortuneteller's face was utterly expressionless like a mask. She placed the Three of Swords below the cross.

"See to what you may rise to."

Her dark, elegant hand revealed the next card and laid it above the cross. Golden bracelets thrummed softly around her wrist. The card said 'Ace of Staves' and showed an ornamented wooden staff impaling a hart-shaped object. Her hand touched the stock again.

"Your past and your present."

Two cards were laid out in quick succession, one was put to the left and one to the right of the cross. The one to the left was again of the swords-kind, this time a nine. He was no warrior, why this affinity for swords? The card to the right, probably symbolizing the present showed a picture he had seen before, it was the lightening struck tower. Behind him Naranja gasped again, bewildered, but Raistlin's eyes were fixed on the woman before him. The fortuneteller frowned shortly, this being the only expression she allowed herself to show. He hardened himself against the disturbing feeling of being the only one who could not extract a meaning of these pictures. He already regretted having given in to the proposal.

Now, the woman's hands moved to the side. Laying another row.

"See what you seek."

The card she turned revealed 'The Mage'. He wasn't really surprised by that anymore.

"See what you will find on your way."

The next card showed a male and female figure, intertwined in a loving kiss. 'The Lovers' it read below. He raised an eyebrow. How cliched.

"See what you must seek for advice." the fortuneteller's emotionless, merciless voice continued slowly, while her hands revealed a crowned man in precious robes sitting on a thrown. The card was named 'The Kingpriest'. She laid it down next to the Lovers.

"Now for the last card."

Naranja's mother hesitated for an instant, before her gracious fingers took one more card from the stock.

"See what you are heading to."

The last card was turned. It showed a dark hooded figure, robed in black, holding an hourglass his skeletal grip. Even without reading the title, Raistlin knew what it said. It was "Death".

The three sat there silently for a while. Raistlin sensed Naranja shiver. But the girl kept quite until her mother, who hadn't taken her eyes of the cards yet, started speaking.

"When I see the cards, I sometimes can see in people's souls." The fortuneteller said, her dark rich voice filling Raistlin's ears. "I don't like and I fear what I see in yours. Too many swords. Were you go, you carry darkness, pain and terror with you. You received, you gave. You may rise to a higher understanding but your greatest strength is your greatest flaw and your power may lead to your destruction. But there is hope."

She tipped on the 'Lovers' and the 'Kingpriest'.

"The Lovers stand for a kindred spirit that will be with you and the Kingpriest usually stands for our faith in the gods or the gods themselves. I can't say which is meant here. Maybe both. Still, you walk a dangerous path that may lead to destruction. Hopefully it will be the beginning of something new. It can be, if you can defeat the darkness within you."

The Fortuneteller finished her speech. Finally, she leaned back her face relaxing. Now it was not a mask of concentration anymore, she showed signs of weariness instead, as if the whole ordeal had exhausted her gravely. He also sat back, startled, and even slightly concerned. Of course it was deception, it had to be. This had not been a real trance, she had just interpreted a pile of colorful pictures. Though her words had struck, she could have guessed that, couldn't she? Still, the seriousness of her words had left a seed of doubt in his heart that even he couldn't deny. What if there was more to those cards? And what did it all mean then? He was lost in thought, his gaze drawn to the cards that still lay in their position, when Naranja tensed.
"Mother." she cried suddenly her eyes growing large in terror. He had turned to Naranja at first, at her cry he looked back again at the fortuneteller. Her eyes were wide open now. Unnaturally open. They fixed him and likewise seemed to look through him, staring into another world. Her face was pale and bloodless, as if life and soul had left her, leaving only an empty shell behind. Raistlin involuntarily shuddered. He had seen that expression before. He knew the symptoms.

'Mother...'

He pressed his lips firmly together to prevent himself from letting out a shocked gasp and suppressed the sudden, painfully vivid memory on Rosamun's last and lasting trance. At that moment, the fortuneteller opened her mouth, but the words that left her lips were not carried by her own voice. It was as though she was a puppet on strings, forced to speak by an unknown, invisible will. The words seemed to come from another place and time. Dark, warning, intensive. Each syllable burning itself into the souls of the listeners. A message that could not be forgotten.

"When neutrality is corrupted, darkness takes over. But the seed of hope may spring from the darkest ground. The cards are given out, but the joker is still in the game. All depends on whom he chooses to serve. It's the little thing that makes a difference."

After that, Lady Toronja went limb and collapsed on the floor.

TBC