Chapter Six: Many Questions

Roltan did all he could to make them comfortable.

Two beautiful young Elvish servants were called, and they drew a large marble tub full of water and filled it with fragrant bubbles. It was situated comfortably behind a silk screen in the corner of Roltan's spacious bedchamber. Dalamar watched them apprehensively, wondering if his kind were the lower class in this place.

"Do you require assistance in the bath, sir?" the blonde one asked.

"Ah, no. No thank you. Not this evening, at any rate." Dalamar said. He hardly felt comfortable having a stranger touch him when he was in such a malnourished and filthy state, no matter how enticing the stranger. The young woman nodded and turned to draw a basin full of water, joining her companion at Raistlin's bedside and unlacing his tattered robes.

Dalamar felt a small stab of amusement as the girls began giving the sleeping mage a thorough sponge bath.

'That's probably the most thrilling experience of his life,' he thought as he slid into the tub, 'And the poor fellow isn't even awake for it.'

"Great Balance, look at some of these wounds, Annah!"

"The poor sweet dear!"

"Here, help me get these robes off."

"Just toss them down to the incinerator, they look all in."

Raistlin was dimly aware of voices, and something warm and wet being rubbed across his stomach, but he was fading in and out of consciousness and couldn't for the life of him comprehend what was happening. But it felt good, and he was in no pain for the first time in months.

"These stripes tell me he was flogged at one point!"

"And look at those scars near the stomach! Like something horrible has been gouging at him!"

"Not anymore, by Balance! Roltan says this one is to be given protection!"

"Oh, the poor man."

The one with the lower voice seemed to be called Annah. Were they angels? Or devils?

Raistlin didn't truly care at this point. He felt warm and comfortable, the surface he was lying on seemed softer than pure goose down, and there was a wonderfully delicious smell emanating from somewhere nearby. He sighed, his eyelids flickering.

"I think he's waking up. Are you finished with your side yet?"

"Almost. Help me get him into this dressing gown."

"It's too big for the poor skinny little fellow. He looks like he hasn't eaten properly in weeks."

"Only for now. We'll soon have him fattened up and healthy as a Drac." "There, pull his left arm through."

Dalamar, soaping his hair, chuckled softly at the snippets of conversation he was hearing from beyond the screen. If he were not so tired, he would be having the time of his life listening to his Shalafi in such a vulnerable state. It was endearing, the way the two Elves fussed over him. Raistlin would have been mortified.

The water was warm and soothing against his many cuts and bruises, and soon it had turned black as the flesh of a Drow as he scrubbed layer upon layer of grime from his white skin. When he emerged from the bath , clean and refreshed, he wrapped himself in the heavy linen robes that the Elves had set out for him. They were Roltan's, and as a consequence were a bit too large on him, but they were clean and warm and he was grateful.

He waited politely behind the screen for the Elves to finish with his master, then when he heard them leave he emerged into the warm room and went to Raistlin's side.

They'd done a wonderful job. The mage's hair was clean and damp, brushed back from his face to dry on the burgundy satin pillow. He was dressed in a clean white cotton gown and tucked under a pile of down blankets. Dalamar sat in a chair next to the bed and took Raistlin's hand in his own.

"Shalafi?"

"Have they gone?"

Dalamar smiled, shaking his head.

"Yes, Shalafi. They've left. How are you feeling?"

Raistlin opened his eyes and struggled to sit up, leaning back against the pillows and casting a rueful glance at his companion.

"Violated."

It was too much for Dalamar. He burst out laughing.

"And here I believed you to be asleep." he chuckled.

"So did they, apparently. I was resting rather soundly as a matter of fact. But it does feel good to be clean."

Dalamar patted his hand reassuringly.

"Master Mettamoon appears to be a very congenial fellow, to say the least."

"I knew nothing of his kindness. Most of the ancient tomes only mentioned his power, and one or two let on that he was of the undead, but none told of his generosity."

Dalamar noticed a carafe of water nearby on a small ebony table, and he poured a glass full and held it to Raistlin's lips.

"Thank you." Raistlin said after he drank half of it. Dalamar, to the best of his knowledge, couldn't remember him ever being so kind. He set the glass down and tucked the blankets in a little tighter. He, too, felt immensely better at being clean. Clean and warm and out of danger for the moment. It was a relief, though he half expected all of it to be a dream.

He settled back into the chair by Raistlin's bedside, making himself comfortable near to his Master should the weakened mage need anything.

Two hours later there was a quiet knock. Rather than call out and risk waking Raistlin, who was sleeping soundly, Dalamar limped over and opened the heavy door. There was a young woman in the hallway bearing a tray of food and a wine bottle in her hands. Her long black hair was swept back from her heart-shaped face with a thick green ribbon, and her eyes were as yellow as buttercups.

"I am Aegis, familiar of Lord Roltan. He bade me come and see to your ankle, as well as bring you and the other fellow some food." she said in a high, thin voice. Dalamar stepped back, watching her closely as she set the tray down on a table near the window. There was something very strange about her.

"I was under the impression that most familiars were animals, my lady." he said carefully. She gestured for him to sit down, and he did so, offering his wounded ankle to her ministrations.

"You are correct, mage. I am indeed an animal. A cat, to be precise. But my Lord has seen fit to gift me with shape-changing abilities so that I may serve him better. Does this hurt?" she touched his foot.

"No. The pain is emanating more from the left side, near the ball of the heel."

Aegis bent down and sniffed the place experimentally, then nodded.

"You've not broken it, at least. But you will be sore for some time, I'm afraid. What is a Dark Elf? Lord Roltan called you that name."

He was taken somewhat aback by the question, and hesitated a moment before answering.

"Where I come from, my kind are called that." he answered. The Cat looked up at him quizzically.

"Elaborate."

"I have left my home land."

Aegis tugged sharply at his foot, and there was a sickening pop as the joint slid neatly back into place. Dalamar let out an anguished yelp.

"That hurt, damn it!"

Aegis smiled, showing sharp little white cat's teeth.

"I know. But you bore it like a man."

"Sarcasm. How very catlike."

"You have no idea."

Behind them, Raistlin started coughing. Aegis was on her feet and at his side in a flash. Dalamar would have followed, but his entire leg up to the thigh felt like it was on fire, so he contented himself with watching the graceful way the young woman loped across the room.

She leaned over Raistlin, crooning soft words in a language Dalamar had not heard before.

Raistlin recognized the words being spoken to him, and his eyes snapped open. It was a feline dialect, well-known to most arch mages.

"Are we awake, master?" the strange girl purred, kneading his chest slightly with her soft little hands. He smiled sleepily, feeling much stronger for the long rest.

"I am indeed, cat. Please thank Lord Roltan for me."

"I shall. I shall indeed. Do you feel well enough to eat something?"

"As long as it isn't mice."

A few moments later found the two mages seated at the wooden table, bare feet brushing the thick black carpet. Aegis was an attentive servant, filling their glasses with sweet white wine and making sure their plates never emptied. All the while she kept up a steady stream of stories (all cats love stories) about her long history with Roltan and their many adventures together. He's found her in a garbage dump six centuries ago and taken pity on her, a little starving kitten with a broken tail trying to scratch out a living in the refuse pits of Chivarro, a distant planet. Roltan brought her home and fed her fresh meat mixed with a variety of potions that tasted funny. But she was terribly hungry, and ate everything anyway. A few weeks passed, and she gained the ability to speak and think like a human. And later, under Roltan's gentle direction, she was able to take on the form of a woman.

"Are you lovers?" Dalamar asked.

"Certainly not! He is my master, and I his familiar. The Lord has taken no lovers in all the time I have known him. He is solitary, a scholar and necromancer of the first degree. I sleep at the foot of his bed, and sometimes under the covers if he wants me to be closer, but always as a cat."

Raistlin smiled at Dalamar from across the table, shaking his head, and Dalamar found himself grinning back. They were both finding this place to their liking more and more. Aegis was quite an interesting novelty, and the mages were equally curious as to what other sorts of creatures and inventions existed in the rest of the castle.

The door opened, and Roltan stepped in, closing it gently behind him. Aegis trotted over to him and bumped her head against his shoulder in greeting.

"I have set the Elf's ankle and fed them both, master." she said happily. Roltan kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, my dear. You may go hunting now."

She scampered from the room, sliding down into her cat form as she went.

"Ah, I see that you're both looking much cleaner and stronger than when you came in. I was rather worried."

Raistlin struggled to his feet and bowed.

"My Lord, we are honored by your hospitality. But perhaps, if you don't mind, we could discuss the terms of our service."

Roltan laughed at the eagerness plain on Raistlin's face and sat down beside Dalamar, helping himself to a glass of wine.

"By all means, my friend. I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I do remember what it was like to be young and impatient. Quite well, actually. To begin with, I should like to know something of yourselves."

Raistlin sat down again as well, visibly weakened by the exertion of standing. He was still so very weak...

"I am the youngest son of three children, with a sister and a brother before me. I was born sick and useless. My childhood was a misery until I discovered the wonders of mage craft, which offered some respite from the torment visited upon me by the village children and the daily battle with my ill health. My Test took place at the Tower of Wayreth and nearly killed me. And so on and so forth, pacts with dark mages, pissing off gods, delving into unmentionable territory, challenging Takhisis, et cetera. Dalamar?"

After a few moments of tense silence, Dalamar cleared his throat.

"My father was Derathos Argent, my mother the beautiful Ronan Windwalker. I met my Shalafi in my ninety-seventh year a while after being banished from my homeland. He's taught me a great deal, and I am grateful." Dalamar lapsed into silence. He, too felt uneasy under the keen gray stare of Roltan Mettamoon. It wasn't that the necromancer was looking at them with malice or distrust...it was just that his gaze was so steady, his eyes so clear, his face so ethereal and haunting that he seemed completely unnatural. Which he was, in a manner of speaking.

He smiled.

"And you carried him here on a twisted ankle at the risk of your own life."

Dalamar nodded, unsure of how he should reply. He settled for saying nothing. Roltan nodded slowly, approvingly.

"It sounds like the two of you have had rather interesting pasts. Now, about your duties -"

"My Lord?" Dalamar interrupted. Raistlin kicked him under the table, but he pressed on.

"Lord Roltan, what of your past? I know only what I have read of you, which is even less than my Shalafi has read. Can you tell us something of yourself?"

"Please forgive my apprentice, my Lord. He is young and has no concept of your power." Raistlin apologized.

"No, no. It's fine. Really, I'm not so egocentric as all that. I certainly don't mind being spoken to as an equal. I have company very rarely, and am rather enjoying your presence here. And I certainly don't mind answering your questions. My twin brother and I were the first beings created by the Unified God, the all-powerful Being who eventually split into three parts. Law, Chaos, and Balance. I now follow Law, but live in the realm of Chaos. They are my friends. My brother chooses to live his life in another part of the galaxy, bending his will to gaining ever greater power over all sentient beings even as I spend the bulk of my time learning and studying the knowledge of every species in existence. We are two halves of the same coin, in a way. His name is Zellfiend, and I love him dearly despite our differences. You will meet him one day, I am certain. I have one child, a son named Shadow that comes here very rarely. He was born to a greater demoness, a succubus that I adored for many years. When she died, he came to find me. And every thousand years or so he comes round again to visit." Roltan fell silent, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

"Are all those close to you so very long-lived, my Lord?" Raistlin asked.

"Not all, sadly. But I am a master of death, and can hold it back for as long as I wish, or reverse it, if necessary. It is the science I have chosen to study longer and harder than any other. Aegis has lived far, far beyond her normal lifespan because she is precious to me and I will not have her die. Shadow has my blood in his veins. He will outlive the stars. And the two of you, if you truly wish to learn from me all you desire to know, will have to accept my rule that death stay clear of you for at least the next eon or so. Knowledge is not a thing to rush at by any means."

"You mentioned healing me..." Raistlin whispered, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Roltan smacked a hand to his forehead as though just remembering.

"Yes! Oh, how terribly thoughtless of me! I shall gather the needed ingredients and have something for you by tomorrow evening. Thank you for reminding me. And I will have those rooms prepared for you as well by that time. The Elves are already seeing to it as we speak. I think you'll be very pleased."

"The Elves, sir. Are they some sort of serving class here?" Dalamar asked. Roltan shook his head.

"Not in so many words, no. But they serve Draconia as all the conquered must. It was penance for the Elvish Coalition of Planets standing against Draconia during the Great War. But the Elves are paid well and not treated poorly. The servitude was to last five hundred years, but that was six hundred and seventy years ago. Most of the Elves stayed to serve because they'd grown very fond of their Drac masters and their comfortable lives here."

"When you say Draconian, do you mean creatures similar to those on Krynn?" Raistlin asked, recalling the huge stupid lizard creatures that appalled his brother so terribly. Roltan laughed.

"Not at all! These are bigger, sleeker, and far more intelligent than anything you've seen before. But it is late, and the two of you need to rest. There will be plenty of time to learn of your new surroundings tomorrow."

He stood up and bowed slightly, the picture of a gracious host.

"Please make yourselves comfortable. No one will disturb you before at least noon tomorrow. I'm very glad you made it. The Abyss is nothing to scoff at. Rest well."

And with that, he turned and left the two mages to their thoughts.

"Eons? Do you think he meant that?" Dalamar asked after a while, taking a bite of potatoes. Raistlin drained the wineglass and leaned back, his face speculative.

"I have been seeking immortality all my life." he whispered, almost to himself. And so he had. All the pain and anguish, the sleepless nights studying magic, the lost relationships and the great gulf that yawned wider and wider every year between him and his brother.

His brother.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright, his eyes feverish.

"Great gods!"

Dalamar paused, mid-chew.

"What is it, my lord?"

Raistlin started to speak, but such was his excitement that the words all tried to come out together, and he broke into a coughing fit. Dalamar limped around to his side and rubbed his back, trying to ease his master's suffering.

"Shall I call for Lord Roltan, Shalafi?"

Raistlin shook his head, trying to speak. He motioned to Dalamar to hand him a glass of water, and when he'd drunk a generous measure he sat down heavily, missing the chair completely and landing in an undignified heap on the floor.

"Shalafi!" Dalamar tried to help him up, but Raistlin grabbed his arm and pulled him down as well. For a moment Dalamar thought he was weeping, and he moved to put a comforting arm around the mage's thin shoulders. But Raistlin wasn't crying.

He was laughing.

"What in all of Krynn?" Dalamar feared his master might be going mad, that the strain of the past few months had finally cracked his sanity.

"Dalamar!" Raistlin gasped, tears running down his golden cheeks. "Oh sweet Dalamar!"

"What? What, Raistlin? What is it?"

"Caramon! Tika! Even that damned Tasslehoff! Oh gracious! Kitiara and Tanis and Palin and Usha -"

"Dead, my teacher. All dead and buried. Shhhh, you'll hurt yourself."

Raistlin violently shook his head, still laughing.

"You don't understand! Stupid, short-sighted, wonderful, faithful Dalamar! Caramon! Oh great Law, Chaos, Balance and whomever else is out there!"

He grabbed the bewildered Elf by the shoulders, shaking him and laughing with pure joy.

"We can bring them back, Dalamar! Roltan is a master of death, he said so himself! We can learn it, bring them back and make things right! A whole new chance! My brother, my sister, everyone we knew and loved! Everyone we stepped on and pushed aside to get where we are today!"

Dalamar was dumbfounded.

"Master, what you speak of cannot be natural." he said carefully, "Haven't we angered the gods enough?"

"No! No, not by half!" Raistlin was adamant, elated, unwavering, "Can't you see? It's a chance, my friend!" he dropped his voice, totally worn out by the exertion.

"A chance...to make things right." he whispered.

Dalamar helped him to his feet and over to the bed, laying the mage down and drawing the covers up and over him. Raistlin was still laughing and crying all at once, the possibility of correcting the mistakes of his past bright and real before his eyes. Dalamar left him to his quiet ranting and hurried to find Roltan.

Raistlin was either losing his mind, or had just figured out a way to settle their score with the world.