Margaret Weis - Dragons of the Hourglass Mage

"Would you like to see my hands?" Raistlin asked and started to pull off the black gloves.

The guard muttered something unintelligible and jerked his thumb toward the doors. Raistlin drew his hood over his head, and no one stopped him. As he entered the temple, he could hear, behind him, the shocked comments from the onlookers.

"Chunks of flesh falling off…"

"… lips rotted away! You could see the tendons and the bone…"

"… living skull…"

Raistlin was pleased. His illusion spell had worked. He considered maintaining the illusion, but keeping the spell going all day would be draining. He would simply keep his hood over his face.

Raistlin joined a black mass of clerics milling around in the entryway. He asked one how to find the council chamber.

"I have traveled from the east. This is my first time visiting Her Dark Majesty's temple," Raistlin said by way of explanation. "I do not know my way around."

The dark pilgrim was pleased to be singled out by a cleric of such high office, and she offered to personally escort the Spiritor. As she led him through the convoluted corridors to the council hall, she described the events planned for the war council, or the "High Conclave," as Ariakas termed it.

"The meeting of the Highlords will commence with the setting of the sun. An hour after"-the pilgrim's voice grew soft with awe-"our Dark Queen, Takhisis, will join her Highlords to declare victory in the war."

A trifle premature, Raistlin thought.

"What happens during the High Conclave?" he asked.

"First the Emperor's troops will take their places at the foot of his throne. Then the troops of the Highlords will enter and, after that, the Highlords themselves. Last to come will be the Emperor. When all are assembled, the Highlords will swear their loyalty to the Emperor and Her Dark Majesty. The Highlords will present the Emperor with gifts to the goddess as a mark of their devotion.

"We hear," the dark pilgrim added in a confidential tone, "that one of the gifts will be the elf woman known as the Golden General. She will be sacrificed to Takhisis in the Dark Watch rites. I hope you will be able to attend, Spiritor. We would be honored by your presence."

Raistlin said he looked forward to it.

"This is the council chamber," announced the pilgrim, bringing him to the main door. "We are not permitted to go in, but you can see inside. It is most impressive!"

As with all other chambers in the temple, the circular council hall existed half on the ethereal plane and half in the real world and was designed to unsettle all who looked upon it. Everything was as it appeared to be, and nothing was what it appeared. The black granite floor was solid and shifted underfoot. The walls were made of the same black granite, making the observer feel the dark rising all around him in a tidal wave meant to drown the world.

Raistlin, peering upward to the domed ceiling, was astonished and displeased to see several dragons perched among the eaves. He was staring at the dragons and wondering how they might affect his plans, when he suddenly had the horrible impression that the ceiling was falling on him. He ducked involuntarily, then heard the dark pilgrim give a dry chuckle. Raistlin stared at the ceiling until the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach subsided.

"On those four platforms," said the guide, gesturing, "are the sacred thrones of the Dragon Highlords. The white is for Lord Toede, the green for Salah-Kahn, the black for Lucien of Takar, and the blue is for the Blue Lady, Kitiara uth Matar."

"The platforms are rather small," said Raistlin.

The guide bristled, taking offense. "They are most imposing."

"I beg your pardon," said Raistlin. "What I meant was that the platforms are not large enough to hold the Highlord and all his bodyguards. Don't you fear assassins?"

"Ah, I see what you mean," said the guide stiffly. "No one other than the Highlord is permitted on the platform. The bodyguards stand on the stairs that lead up to the platform, and they encircle the platform itself. No assassin could possibly get by."

"I assume the large, ornate throne with all the jewels at the front of the hall is for the Emperor?"

"Yes, that is where His Imperial Majesty will sit. And you see the dark alcove above his throne?"

Raistlin had found it difficult to look at anything else. His eyes were constantly drawn to that shadowy area, and he had known what the alcove housed before the guide told him.

"That is where our Queen will make her triumphant entrance into the world. You are fortunate, Spiritor. You will be there with her."

"I will?" Raistlin asked, startled.

"The Emperor has his throne beneath her. Our Nightlord stands close to Her Dark Majesty, and dignitaries such as yourself, Spiritor, will be standing alongside her."

The guide sighed with envy. "You are very lucky to be so close to Her Dark Majesty."

"Indeed," said Raistlin.

He and Kit had planned that he would join her on her own platform. He could work his magic from there. There were risks in that. He would be in full view of everyone in the council hall, including Ariakas. And though Raistlin was disguised as a cleric, the moment he started to cast his spell, everyone in the hall would know he was a wizard. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that the Nightlord's platform would serve him far better.

I will be standing above Ariakas, he reflected. The Emperor will have his back to me. True, I will be close to Takhisis, but she will not be paying attention to me. Her attention will be focused on her Highlords.

"We should be going," the guide said abruptly. "It is almost time for midday rituals. You can accompany me."

"I do not want to be a burden," said Raistlin, who had been wondering how to get rid of the woman so he could go exploring on his own. "I will find my own way around."

"Attendance is mandatory," said the guide sternly.

Raistlin swore beneath his breath, but there was no help for it. His guide steered him away from the hall and into the maze that was the temple, where they immediately got caught up in a confused mass of dark clerics and soldiers, all attempting to enter the council hall. The heat from the hundreds of bodies was intense. Raistlin was sweating in his velvet robes. His palms in the black, leather gloves were itchy and wet. He disliked the feeling, and he longed to rip the gloves off. He dared not do so. His golden skin would have caused comment; he feared he would be recognized from the time when he'd been imprisoned here.

Just as the crowd seemed about to thin out, a large baaz draconian appeared out of nowhere and barged into them.

"Make way!" the draconian was yelling. "Dangerous prisoners. Make way! Make way!"

People fell back as ordered. The prisoners came into view. One of them was Tika, walking directly behind the guard. Her red curls were limp and bedraggled, and she had long, bloody scratches on her arms. Whenever she slowed down, a baaz draconian gave her a shove from behind.

Caramon came next, carrying Tasslehoff, slung over his shoulder. Caramon was protesting loudly that they had no reason to arrest him, he was a commander in the dragonarmy, they'd made a big mistake. So what if he didn't have the right papers? He demanded to see whoever was in charge.

Tas's face was bloody and bruised, and he must have been unconscious because he was quiet. And Tasslehoff Burrfoot, in such an interesting situation, would have never been quiet.

Where is Tanis? Raistlin wondered. Caramon-insecure and self-doubting-would never abandon his leader. Perhaps Tanis was dead. The fact that Tasslehoff was injured suggested a fight had taken place. Kender never did know when to keep their mouths shut.

There was one other person in the group, a tall man with a long, white beard. Raistlin didn't recognize him at first, not until Tika stumbled. The baaz draconian shoved her, and she fell against the bearded man. His false beard slipped and Raistlin knew him-Berem.