Dragonlance 04 - Time of the Twins Read Online Free Page A
Revered Daughter," he commented. "You do not tremble at my evil touch."
"Paladine is with me," Crysania replied disdainfully.
Raistlin smiled, a warm smile, dark and secret—a smile for just the two of them. It fascinated Crysania. He drew her near to him. Then, he dropped her hand. Resting the staff against the chair, he reached out and took hold of her head with his slender hands, placing his fingers over the white hood she wore. Now, Crysania trembled at his touch, but she could not move, she could not speak or do anything more than stare at him in a wild fear she could neither suppress nor understand.
Holding her firmly, Raistlin leaned down and brushed his blood-flecked lips across her forehead. As he did so, he muttered strange words. Then he released her.
Crysania stumbled, nearly falling. She felt weak and dizzy. Her hand went to her forehead where the touch of his lips burned into her skin with a searing pain. "What have you done?" she cried brokenly. "You cannot cast a spell upon me! My faith protects—”
"Of course." Raistlin sighed wearily, and there was an expression of sorrow in his face and voice, the sorrow of one who is constantly suspected, misunderstood. "I have simply given you a charm that will allow you to pass through Shoikan Grove. The way will not be easy"—his sarcasm returned—"but, undoubtedly your faith will sustain you!"
Pulling his hood low over his eyes, the mage bowed silently to Crysania, who could only stare at him, then he walked toward the door with slow, faltering steps. Reaching out a skeletal hand, he pulled the bell rope. The door opened and Bertrem entered so swiftly and suddenly that Crysania knew he must have been posted outside. Her lips tightened. She flashed the Aesthetic such a furious, imperious glance that the man paled visibly, though totally unaware of what crime he had committed, and mopped his shining forehead with the sleeve of his robe.
Raistlin started to leave, but Crysania stopped him. "I-I apologize for not trusting you, Raistlin Majere," she said softly. "And, again, I thank you for coming."
Raistlin turned. "And I apologize for my sharp tongue," he said. "Farewell, Revered Daughter. If you truly do not fear knowledge, then come to the Tower two nights from this night, when Lunitari makes its first appearance in the sky."
"I will be there," Crysania answered firmly, noting with pleasure Bertrem's look of shocked horror. Nodding in good-bye, she rested her hand lightly on the back of the ornately carved wooden chair.
The mage left the room, Bertrem followed, shutting the door behind him.
Left alone in the warm, silent room, Crysania fell to her knees before the chair. "Oh, thank you, Paladine!" she breathed. "I accept your challenge. I will not fail you! I will not fail!"
BOOK 1
CHAPTER 1
Behind her,she could hear the sound of clawed feet, scrapping through the leaves of the forest. Tika tensed, but tried to act as if she didn't hear, luring the creature on. Firmly, she gripped her sword in her hand. Her heart pounded. Closer and closer came the footsteps, she could hear the harsh breathing. The touch of a clawed hand fell upon her shoulder. Whirling about, Tika swung her sword and . . . knocked a tray full of mugs to the floor with a crash.
Dezra shrieked and sprang backward in alarm. Patrons sitting at the bar burst into raucous laughter. Tika knew her face must be as red as her hair. Her heart was pounding, her hands shook.
"Dezra," she said coldly, "you have all the grace and brains of a gully dwarf. Perhaps you and Raf should switch places. You carry out the garbage and I'll let him wait tables!"
Dezra looked up from where she knelt, picking broken pieces of crockery up off the floor, where they floated in a sea of beer. "Perhaps I should!" the waitress cried, tossing the pieces back onto the floor. 'Wait tables yourself . . . or is that beneath you now, Tika Majere, Heroine of the Lance?"
Flashing Tika a hurt, reproachful
"Paladine is with me," Crysania replied disdainfully.
Raistlin smiled, a warm smile, dark and secret—a smile for just the two of them. It fascinated Crysania. He drew her near to him. Then, he dropped her hand. Resting the staff against the chair, he reached out and took hold of her head with his slender hands, placing his fingers over the white hood she wore. Now, Crysania trembled at his touch, but she could not move, she could not speak or do anything more than stare at him in a wild fear she could neither suppress nor understand.
Holding her firmly, Raistlin leaned down and brushed his blood-flecked lips across her forehead. As he did so, he muttered strange words. Then he released her.
Crysania stumbled, nearly falling. She felt weak and dizzy. Her hand went to her forehead where the touch of his lips burned into her skin with a searing pain. "What have you done?" she cried brokenly. "You cannot cast a spell upon me! My faith protects—”
"Of course." Raistlin sighed wearily, and there was an expression of sorrow in his face and voice, the sorrow of one who is constantly suspected, misunderstood. "I have simply given you a charm that will allow you to pass through Shoikan Grove. The way will not be easy"—his sarcasm returned—"but, undoubtedly your faith will sustain you!"
Pulling his hood low over his eyes, the mage bowed silently to Crysania, who could only stare at him, then he walked toward the door with slow, faltering steps. Reaching out a skeletal hand, he pulled the bell rope. The door opened and Bertrem entered so swiftly and suddenly that Crysania knew he must have been posted outside. Her lips tightened. She flashed the Aesthetic such a furious, imperious glance that the man paled visibly, though totally unaware of what crime he had committed, and mopped his shining forehead with the sleeve of his robe.
Raistlin started to leave, but Crysania stopped him. "I-I apologize for not trusting you, Raistlin Majere," she said softly. "And, again, I thank you for coming."
Raistlin turned. "And I apologize for my sharp tongue," he said. "Farewell, Revered Daughter. If you truly do not fear knowledge, then come to the Tower two nights from this night, when Lunitari makes its first appearance in the sky."
"I will be there," Crysania answered firmly, noting with pleasure Bertrem's look of shocked horror. Nodding in good-bye, she rested her hand lightly on the back of the ornately carved wooden chair.
The mage left the room, Bertrem followed, shutting the door behind him.
Left alone in the warm, silent room, Crysania fell to her knees before the chair. "Oh, thank you, Paladine!" she breathed. "I accept your challenge. I will not fail you! I will not fail!"
BOOK 1
CHAPTER 1
Behind her,she could hear the sound of clawed feet, scrapping through the leaves of the forest. Tika tensed, but tried to act as if she didn't hear, luring the creature on. Firmly, she gripped her sword in her hand. Her heart pounded. Closer and closer came the footsteps, she could hear the harsh breathing. The touch of a clawed hand fell upon her shoulder. Whirling about, Tika swung her sword and . . . knocked a tray full of mugs to the floor with a crash.
Dezra shrieked and sprang backward in alarm. Patrons sitting at the bar burst into raucous laughter. Tika knew her face must be as red as her hair. Her heart was pounding, her hands shook.
"Dezra," she said coldly, "you have all the grace and brains of a gully dwarf. Perhaps you and Raf should switch places. You carry out the garbage and I'll let him wait tables!"
Dezra looked up from where she knelt, picking broken pieces of crockery up off the floor, where they floated in a sea of beer. "Perhaps I should!" the waitress cried, tossing the pieces back onto the floor. 'Wait tables yourself . . . or is that beneath you now, Tika Majere, Heroine of the Lance?"
Flashing Tika a hurt, reproachful
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