Dragons of the Fallen Sun

Chapter Twenty-One The Device of Time Journeying

The wild and terrifying flight. from the dragon ended in blue sky and sunshine. The flight took longer than usual, for the griffon had been blown off course by the storm. The beast made landfall somewhere in the wilds of the Kharolis Mountains to feed on a deer, a delay Palin chafed at, but all his pleas for haste went unheeded. After dining, the griffon took a nap, while Palin paced back and forth, keeping a firm grip on Tasslehoff. When night fell, the creature stated that it would not fly after dark. The griffon and Tasslehoff slept. Palin sat fuming and waiting for the sun to rise.

They continued their journey the next day. The griffon landed Palin and Tasslehoff at midmorning in an empty field not far from what had once been the Academy of Sorcery. The stone walls of the academy still stood, but they were black and crumbling. The roof was a skeleton of charred beams. The tower that had once been a symbol of hope to the world, hope that magic had returned, was nothing but a pile of rubble, demolished by the blast that had tom out its heart.

Palin had once planned to rebuild the academy, if for no other reason than to show his defiance for Beryl. When he began to lose the magic, began to feel it slip away from him like water falling from cupped palms, he discarded the idea. It was a waste of time and effort. Better far to spend his energies searching for artifacts of the Fourth Age, artifacts that still held the magic inside and could still be used by those who knew how.

“What is that place?” Tasslehoff asked, sliding down from the griffon’s back. He stared with interest at the destroyed walls with their gaping, empty windows. “And what happened to it?”

“Nothing. Never mind,” Palin said, not wanting to enter into long explanations involving the death of a dream. “Come along. We have no time to was—”

“Look!” Tas cried, pointing. “Someone’s walking around there. I’m going to go look!”

He was off, his bright shirt tail fluttering behind him, his topknot bouncing with glee.

“Come back—” Palin began and then realized he might as well save his breath.

Tas was right. Someone was indeed walking around the ruins of the academy and Palin wondered who it might be. The residents of Solace considered the place cursed and never went there for any reason. The person was wearing long robes; Palin caught a glimpse of crimson fabric beneath a gold-trimmed beige cloak.

This could, of course, be some former student, come back to gaze in nostalgia at his wrecked place of learning, but Palin doubted it. By the graceful walk and the rich dress, he realized that this was Jenna.

Mistress Jenna of Palanthas had been a powerful red-robed wizardess in the days before the Chaos War. An extraordinarily beautiful woman, she was reputed to have been the lover of Dalamar the Dark, pupil of Raistlin Majere and once Master of the Tower of High Sorcery at Palanthas. Jenna had earned her living by running a mageware shop in Palanthas. Her shop had done moderately well during the Fourth Age, when magic had been a gift granted to people by the three gods, Solinari, Lunitari, and Nuitari. She carried the usual assorted spell components: bat guano, butterfly wings, sulphur, rose leaves (whole and crushed), spider eggs, and so forth. She had a good supply of potions and was known to have the best collection of spell scrolls and books outside the Tower of Wayreth, all to be had for a price. She was particularly renowned for her collection of magical artifacts: rings, bracers, daggers, swords, pendants, charms, amulets. These were the artifacts on display. She had other, more potent, more dangerous, more powerful artifacts, which she kept hidden away, to be shown only to serious customers and that by appointment.

When the Chaos War came, Jenna had joined Dalamar and a white-robed mage on a perilous mission to help defeat the rampaging Father of the Gods. She never spoke of what befell them on that terrible journey. All Palin knew was that on their return Dalamar had been critically wounded. He had lain near death in his tower for many long weeks.

Jenna had been his constant companion and nurse until the day when she walked out of the tower, never to return. For on that night, the Tower of High Sorcery at Palanthas was destroyed in a magical blast. No one ever saw Dalamar again. After many years had passed and he had not returned, the Conclave pronounced him officially dead. Mistress Jenna reopened her mageware shop and discovered that she was sitting on a treasure trove.

With the magic of the gods vanished, desperate mages had sought ways to hold onto their power. They discovered that magical artifacts crafted in the Fourth Age retained their power.

The only drawback was that sometimes this power was erratic, did not act as expected. A magical sword, once an artifact of good, suddenly began to slay those it was meant to protect. A ring of invisibility failed its owner at a critical moment, landing the thief five years in a Sanction dungeon. No one knew the reason. Some said the unreliability was due to the fact that the gods no longer had influence over them, others said that it had nothing to do with the gods. Artifacts were always known to be tricky objects to handle.

Buyers were more than willing to take the risk, however, and the demand for Fourth Age artifacts soared higher than a gnomish steam-driven mechanical flapjack-flipping device. Mistress Jenna’s prices rose to match. She was now, at the age of sixty-something, one of the wealthiest women in Ansalon. Still beautiful, though her beauty had ripened, she had retained her influence and power even under the rule of the Knights of Neraka, whose commanders found her charming, fascinating, mysterious, and accommodating. She paid no attention to those who termed her “collaborator.” Jenna had long been accustomed to playing both ends against the middle, knew how to fool the middle and the ends into thinking each was getting the best of the bargain.

Mistress Jenna was also the acknowledged expert in Ansalon on Fourth Age magical artifacts.

Palin could not go immediately to greet her. The griffon complained again of hunger. The beast was, in fact, eyeing the kender avariciously, obviously considering Tas a toothsome morsel. Palin promised he would send back a haunch of venison. This satisfied the griffon, who began to preen herself, pleased at having reached her destination.

Palin went off in pursuit of Tasslehoff, who was happily picking his way through the rubble, turning over rocks to see what was underneath and exclaiming over every find.

Jenna had been strolling around the grounds of the ruined academy. Curious herself to see what the kender had discovered, she walked over to look.

Tas lifted his head, stared at the mage for long moments and then, with a glad cry, he jumped up and ran straight for her with arms outstretched.

Jenna quickly extended both hands, palms outward. Light flashed from one of several rings she wore, and Tas stumbled backward as if he’d run headlong into a brick wall.

“Keep your distance, Kender,” she said calmly.

“But, Jenna!” Tas cried, rubbing his nose and eyeing the rings with interest, “don’t you recognize me? It’s Tasslehoff! Tasslehoff Burrfoot. We met in Palanthas during the Chaos War, only a few days ago for me, but I guess for you its been years and years ’cause you’re a lot older now. A lot older,” he added with emphasis. “I came to your mageware shop and. . .” Tas prattled on.

Jenna kept her hands stretched outward, regarding the kender with amusement—a pleasant distraction. She obviously did not believe a word he was saying.

Hearing footsteps crunch on rock, Jenna turned her head quickly. “Palin!” She smiled to see him.

“Jenna.” He bowed in respect. “I am pleased you could find the time to come.”

“My dear, if what you intimated to me is true, I would not have missed this for all the treasure in Istar. You will excuse me if I do not shake hands, but I am keeping this kender at bay.”

“How was your journey?”

“Long.” She rolled her eyes. “My ring of teleportation”—she indicated a large ring of sparkling amethyst set in silver that she wore on her thumb—“used to take me from one end of the continent to another in a flash. Now it takes me two days to travel from Palanthas to Solace.”

“ And what are you doing here at the academy?” Palin asked, glancing around. “If you’re looking for artifacts, don’t bother. We salvaged what we could.”

Jenna shook her head. “No, I was just taking a walk. I stopped by your house,” she added with an arch glance. “Your wife was there, and she was not overly pleased to see me. Finding the reception a bit chilly indoors, I decided I would prefer a walk in the sunshine.” She looked around in her turn, shook her head sadly.

“I had not been here since the destruction. They did a thorough job. You’re not going to rebuild?”

“Why should I?” Palin shrugged. His tone was bitter. “What use does anyone have for an Academy of Sorcery if there is no more sorcery? Tas,” he said abruptly, “Usha is at home. Why don’t you go surprise her?” Turning, he pointed to a large house which could barely be seen for the tall trees surrounding it.

“There is our house—”

“I know!” Tasslehoff said excitedly. “I was there the first time I went to Caramon’s funeral. Does Usha paint wonderful pictures like she did then?”

“Why don’t you go ask her yourself?” Palin said irritably.

Tas glanced at the rubble and appeared undecided.

“Usha would be very hurt if you didn’t go to see her,” Palin added.

“Yes, you’re right,” Tas replied, making up his mind. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. We are great friends. Besides, I can always come back here later. Good-bye, Jenna!” He started to extend his hand, thought better of it. “And thanks for magicking me. That hasn’t happened to me in a long time. I really enjoyed it.”

“Odd little fellow,” remarked Jenna, gazing after Tas, who was running pell-mell down the hillside. “He looks and talks very much like the kender I knew as Tasslehoff Burrfoot. One would almost think he is Tasslehoff.”

“He is,” said Palin.

Jenna shifted her gaze to him. “Oh, come now.” She scrutinized him more closely. “By the lost gods, I believe that you are serious. Tasslehoff Burrfoot died—”

“I know!” Palin said impatiently. “Thirty-odd years ago. Or thereabouts. I’m sorry, Jenna.” He sighed. “It’s been a long night. Beryl found out about the artifact. We were ambushed by Neraka Knights. The kender and I barely escaped with our lives, and the Solamnic who brought Tas to me didn’t escape at all. Then we were attacked in the air by one of Beryl’s greens. We escaped the dragon only by making a harrowing flight into a thunderstorm.”

“You should get some sleep,” Jenna advised, regarding him with concern.

“I can’t sleep,” Palin returned, rubbing his eyes, which were red-rimmed and burning. “My thoughts are in turmoil, they give me no rest. We need to talk!” he added in a kind of frantic desperation.

“That’s why I am here, my friend,” Jenna said. “But you should at least eat something. Let us go to your house and drink a glass of wine. Say hello to your wife, who has just returned herself from what I gather was a very harrowing journey herself.”

Palin grew calmer. He smiled at her wanly. “Yes, you are right, as usual. It’s just. . .” He paused, thinking what to say and how to say it. “That is the real Tasslehoff, Jenna. I’m convinced of it. And he has been to a future that is not ours, a future in which the great dragons do not exist. A future where the world is at peace. He has brought with him the device he used to travel to that future.”

Jenna gazed at him searchingly and intently. Seeing that he was in earnest, utterly serious, her eyes darkened, narrowed with interest.

“Yes,” she said at last. “We do need to talk.” She took his arm, they walked side by side.

“Tell me everything, Palin,” she said.

The Majeres’ house was a large structure that had once belonged to a Master Theobald, the man who had taught Raistlin Majere magic. Caramon had purchased the house at the master’s death, in memory of his brother, and had given the house as gift to Palin and Usha when they were married. Here their children had been born and grown up, going off on adventures of their own. Palin had transformed the classroom where the young Raistlin had once droned through his lessons into a studio for his wife, a portrait painter of some renown throughout Solamnia and Abanasinia. He continued to use the master’s old laboratory for his studies.

Tasslehoff had spoken truly when he told Palin that he remembered the house from Caramon’s first funeral. He did remember the house—it hadn’t changed. But Palin certainly had.

“I suppose having your fingers all mangled would give you a mangled view of life,” Tas was saying to Usha as he sat with her in the kitchen, eating a large bowl of oatmeal. “That must be the reason, because at Caramon’s first funeral, Palin’s fingers were just fine and so was he. He was cheerful and happy. Well, maybe not happy, because poor Caramon had just died and no one could feel truly happy. But Palin was happy underneath. So that when he was over being sad, I knew he would be happy again. But now he’s terribly unhappy, so unhappy that he can’t even be sad.”

“I . . . I suppose so,” Usha murmured.

The kitchen was a large one with a high, beamed ceiling and an enormous stone fireplace, charred and blackened with years of use. A pot hung from a black chain in the center of the fireplace.

Usha sat across from the kender at a large, butcher-block table used for chopping the heads off chickens and such, or so Tas supposed. Right now it was washed clean, no headless chickens lying about. But then it was only midmoming. Dinnertime was a long way off.

Usha was staring at him just like all the rest of them—as if he’d grown two heads or maybe was headless altogether, like the chickens. She had been staring at him that way ever since his arrival, when he had thrown open the front door (remembering to knock afterward), and cried out, “Usha! It’s me, Tas! I haven’t been stepped on by the giant yet!”

Usha Majere had been a lovely young woman. Age had enhanced her good looks, although, Tas thought, she doesn’t have quite the same prettiness she had when I came back here for Caramon’s funeral the first time. Her hair shone with the same silver sheen, her eyes glinted with the same gold, but the gold lacked warmth, the silver was dull and tarnished. She looked faded and tired.

She’s unhappy, too, Tas realized suddenly. It must be catching.

Like measles.

“That will be Palin now!” Usha said, hearing the front door open and close. She sounded relieved.

“ And Jenna,” Tas mumbled, his mouth full.

“Yes. Jenna,” Usha repeated, her voice cool. “You can stay here, if you like, er . . . Tas. Finish your oatmeal. There’s more in the pot.”

She rose to her feet and left the kitchen. The door swung shut behind her. Tas ate his oatmeal and eavesdropped with interest on the conversation being held in the entry hall. Ordinarily he would not have listened in on someone else’s conversation, because that wasn’t polite, but they were talking about him when he wasn’t there, which wasn’t polite, either, and so he felt justified.

Besides, Tas was starting not to like Palin very much. The kender felt badly about this, but he couldn’t help the feeling.

He’d spent a considerable amount of time with the mage when they were at Laurana’s, relating over and over everything he could remember about Caramon’s first funeral. The kender added the usual embellishments, of course, without which no kender tale is considered complete. Unfortunately, instead of entertaining Palin, these embellishments—which shifted from story to story—appeared to irritate him to no end. Palin had a way of looking at him—Tas—not as if he had two heads, but more as if the mage would like to rip off the kender’s single head and open it up to see what was inside.

“Not even Raistlin looked at me like that,” Tas said to himself, scraping the oatmeal out of the bowl with his finger. “He looked at me as if he’d like to kill me sometimes, but never like he wanted to turn me inside out first.” Usha’s voice came floating through the door “. . . claims he’s Tasslehoff . . .”

“He is Tasslehoff, my dear,” Palin returned. “You know Mistress Jenna, I believe, Usha? Mistress Jenna will be spending a few days with us. Will you make up the guest room?”

There was a silence that sounded as if it had been mashed through a sieve, then Usha’s voice, cold as the oatmeal had grown by now. “Palin, may I see you in the kitchen?”

Palin’s voice, colder than the oatmeal. “Please excuse us, Mistress Jenna.”

Tasslehoff sighed and, thinking he should look as if he hadn’t been listening, began to hum loudly to himself and started to rummage through the pantry, searching for something else to eat.

Fortunately, neither Palin nor Usha paid any attention to the kender at all, except for Palin to snap at him to stop that infernal racket.

“What is she doing here?” Usha demanded, her hands on her hips.

“We have important matters to discuss,” Palin answered evasively.

Usha fixed him with a look. “Palin, you promised me! This trip to Qualinesti would be your last! You know how dangerous this search for artifacts has become—”

“Yes, my dear, I do know,” Palin interrupted, his tone cool.

“That is why I think it would be best if you left Solace.”

“Left!” Usha repeated, astonished. “I’ve just come back home after being away for three months! Your sister and I were virtual prisoners in Haven. Did you know that?”

“Yes, I knew—”

“You knew! And you didn’t say anything? You weren’t worried? You didn’t ask how we escaped—”

“My dear, I haven’t had time—”

“We couldn’t even come back for your father’s funeral!” Usha continued. “We were permitted to leave only because I agreed to paint a portrait of the magistrate’s wife. She has a face that would have been ugly on a hobgoblin. Now you want me to leave again.”

“It’s for your own safety.”

“What about your safety?” she demanded.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Can you, Palin?” Usha asked. Her voice was suddenly gentle. She reached out, tried to take hold of his hands in her own.

“Yes,” he snapped and snatched his crippled hands away, folded them in the sleeves of his robes.

Tasslehoff, feeling extremely uncomfortable, wished he could crawl inside the pantry and shut the door. Unfortunately, there was no room, not even after he’d cleared out a space by stashing several interesting-looking objects in his pockets.

“Very well, if that’s how you feel. I’m not to touch you apparently”—Usha folded her arms across her chest—“but I do think you owe me an explanation. What is going on? Why did you send this kender here claiming to be Tas! What are you up to?”

“We’re keeping Mistress Jenna waiting—”

“I’m sure she won’t mind. I am your wife, in case you’ve forgotten!” Usha tossed her silver hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had. We never see each other anymore.”

“Don’t start that again!” he shouted angrily and turned away toward the door.

“Palin!” Usha reached out her hand impulsively. “I love you! I want to help you!”

“You can’t help me!” he cried, rounding on her. “No one can.” He lifted his hands, held them to the light, the fingers crooked and turned inward like the claws of a bird. “No one can,” he repeated.

More silence. Tas recalled the time he’d been a prisoner in the Abyss. He had felt very alone then, desolate and unhappy.

Strangely, he was feeling the same now sitting in his friends’ kitchen. He lacked the spirit to even give the lock on the silver cabinet a second glance.

“I am sorry, Usha,” Palin said stiffly. “You are right. You deserve an explanation. This kender is Tasslehoff.”

Usha shook her head.

“Do you remember my father telling the story about how he and Tas traveled back in time?” Palin continued.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice tight.

“They did so by means of a magical artifact. Tasslehoff used that same device to jump forward in time so he could speak at Caramon’s funeral. He was here once, but he overshot the mark. He arrived too late. The funeral was over, so he came back a second time. In this instance, he was on time. Only everything was different. The other future he saw was a future of hope and happiness. The gods had not gone away. I was head of the Order of White Robes. The elven kingdoms were united—”

“And you believe all this?” Usha asked, amazed.

“I do,” Palin said stubbornly. “I believe it because I have seen the device, Usha. I’ve held it in my hands. I’ve felt its power. That’s why Mistress Jenna is here. I need her advice. And that’s why it’s not safe for you to stay in Solace. The dragon knows I have the device. I’m not sure how she found out, but I fear someone in Laurana’s household may be a traitor. If so, Beryl may already be aware that I have brought the device to Solace. She’ll send her people to try to—”

“You’re going to use it!” Usha gasped, pointed her finger at Palin.

He made no response.

“I know you, Palin Majere,” Usha said. “You’re planning to use the device yourself! To try to go back in time and . . . and. . . who knows what else!”

“I’ve only been thinking about it,” he returned, uneasily. “I haven’t made up my mind. That’s why I needed to speak to Mistress Jenna.”

“You planned to speak to her and not to me? Your wife?”

“I was going to tell you,” Palin said.

“Tell me? Not ask me? Not ask me what I thought about this insanity? Not ask my opinion? No.” She answered her own question. “You intend to do this whether I want you to or not. No matter how dangerous. No matter that you could be killed!”

“Usha,” he said, after a moment, “it’s so very important. The magic. . . if I could. . .” He shook his head, unable to explain. His voice trailed away.

“The magic is dead, Palin,” Usha cried, her voice choked with tears. “Good riddance, I say. What did it ever do for you? Nothing except destroy you and ruin our marriage.”

He reached out his hand, but this time she was the one who pulled away. “I’m going to the Inn,” she said, not looking at him.

“Let me know if . . . if you want me to come home.”

Turning away from him, she walked over to Tas. Usha looked him over long and hard. “You really are Tas, aren’t you?” she said, awed.

“Yes, Usha,” Tas said miserably. “But I wish right now I wasn’t.”

She leaned down, kissed him on the forehead. He could see the unshed tears shimmer in her golden eyes.

“Good-bye, Tas. It was nice to see you again.”

“I’m sorry, Usha,” he wailed. “I didn’t mean to make a mess of things. I just came back to speak at Caramon’s funeral.”

“It’s not your fault Tas. Things were a mess long before you came.”

Usha left the kitchen, walking past Palin without glancing at him. He stood where she had left him, staring at nothing, his expression dark, his face pale. Tas heard Usha say something to Jenna, something he couldn’t quite catch. He heard Jenna respond, but he couldn’t catch that either. Usha left the house. The front door shut with a bang. The house was silent except for Jenna’s restive pacing. Still Palin did not move.

Tas reached into several of his pockets and at last located the device. He removed some string that had become tangled around it dusted off the lint from his pocket and some crumbs from a biscuit he’d meant to eat two days ago.

“Here, Palin,” Tas said, holding out the device. “You can have it.”

Palin stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Go on,” Tas said, pushing the device at him. “If you want to use it like Usha said you did, I’ll let you. Especially if you can go back and make things the way they’re supposed to be. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Here,” Tas said insistently and gave the device a shake, which caused its jewels to wink.

“Take it!” Jenna said.

Tas was startled. He had been so intent on Palin, he hadn’t heard Jenna come into the kitchen. She stood in the doorway, the door partially ajar.

“Take it!” she repeated urgently. “Palin, you were worried about overcoming the geas laid on the device, the spell that would always return the device to the person who uses it. Such a geas would protect the owner if the device was ever stolen or lost but if the device is freely given, this act may break the geas!”

“I don’t know anything about gewgaws,” said Tas, “but I know that I’ll let you use the device if you want to.”

Palin lowered his head. His gray hair fell forward, covering his face, but not before Tas had seen the pain that contorted and twisted it into a face he did not recognize. Reaching out Palin took hold of the device, his crooked fingers wrapping around it lovingly.

Tas watched the device go with something akin to relief.

Whenever the device was in his possession, he could always hear Fizban’s voice reminding him in irritable tones that he wasn’t supposed to be off having adventures. He was supposed to go back to his own time. And while this adventure certainly left a lot to be desired as far as adventures go—what with being cursed and having to see Usha cry and discovering that he didn’t like Palin anymore—Tas was starting to think that even a bad adventure was probably better than being stepped on by a giant.

“I can tell you how it works,” Tas offered.

Palin placed the device on the kitchen table. He sat there staring at it, not saying a word.

“There’s a rhyme that goes with it and stuff you have to do to it,” Tas added, “but it’s pretty easy to learn. Fizban said I had to know it so that I could recite it standing on my head and I could, so I’m sure you probably can, too.”

Palin was only half-listening. He looked up at Jenna. “What do you think?”

“It is the Device of Time Journeying,” she said. “I saw it at the Tower of High Sorcery when your father brought it to Dalamar for safekeeping. He studied it, of course. I believe he had some of your uncle’s notes regarding it. He never used it that I know of, but he has more knowledge about it than anyone now living. I never heard that the device went missing. However, as I recall, we did find Tasslehoff in the Tower right before the Chaos War. He might have taken it then.”

Jenna eyed the kender quite sternly.

“I did not take it!” Tas said, insulted. “Fizban gave it to me! He told me—”

“Hush, Tas.” Palin leaned across the table, lowered his voice.

“I don’t suppose there is any way you could contact Dalamar.”

“I do not practice necromancy,” Jenna returned coolly.

Palin’s eyes narrowed. “Come now, you don’t believe he’s dead. Do you?”

Jenna relaxed back in her chair. “Perhaps I don’t. But he might as well be. I have not heard a word from him in more than thirty years. I don’t know where he may have gone.”

Palin looked dubious, as if he did not quite believe her.

Jenna spread her bejeweled hands on the table’s surface, fingers apart. “Listen to me, Palin. You do not know him. No one knows him as I know him. You did not see him at the end, when he came back from the Chaos War. I did. I was with him. Day and night. I nursed him to health. If you could call it that.”

She sat back, her expression dark and frowning.

“I am sorry if I offended you,” Palin said. “I never heard. . . . You never told me.”

“It is not something I enjoy talking about,” Jenna said tersely. “You know that Dalamar was gravely wounded during our battle against Chaos. I brought him back to the Tower. For weeks he hovered between the realm of the living and that of the dead. I left my home and my shop and moved into the Tower to care for him. He survived. But the lo$s of the gods, the loss of godly magic, was a terrible blow, one from which he never truly recovered. He changed, Palin. Do you remember how he used to be?”

“I didn’t know him very well. He supervised my Test in the Tower, the Test during which my Uncle Raistlin took him by surprise, turning what Dalamar had intended as illusion into reality. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw I had been given my uncle’s staff.” Palin sighed deeply, regretfully.

The memories were sweet, yet painful. “All I remember of Dalamar is that I thought him sharp-tongued and sarcastic, self-centered and arrogant. I know that my father had a better opinion of him. My father said Dalamar was a very complicated man, whose loyalty was to magic, rather than to the Dark Queen. From what little I knew of Dalamar, I believe that to be true.”

“He was excitable,” Tas chimed in. “He used to get very excited when I started to touch anything that belonged to him. Jumpy, too.”

“Yes, he was all that. But he could also be charming, softspoken, wise. . .” Jenna smiled and sighed. “I loved him, Palin. I still do, I suppose. I have never met any other man to equal him.”

She was quiet a moment, then she shrugged and said, “But that was long ago.”

“What happened between you two?” Palin asked.

She shook her head. “After his illness, he withdrew into himself, became sullen and silent, morose and isolated. I have never been a particularly patient person,” Jenna admitted. “I couldn’t stomach his self-pity and I told him so. We quarreled, I walked out, and that was the last I saw of him.”

“I can understand how he felt,” Palin said. “I know how lost I felt when I realized the gods were gone. Dalamar had practiced the arcane art far longer than I. He had sacrificed so much for it. He must have been devastated.”

“We all were,” Jenna said bluntly, “but we dealt with it. You went on with your life, and so did I. Dalamar could not. He fretted and fumed until I feared that his frustration would do what his wounds could not. I honestly thought he would die of it. He could not eat or sleep. He spent hours locked up in his laboratory searching desperately for what had been lost. He had the key to it, he once told me during one of the rare times he actually spoke to me. He said the key had come to him during his sickness. Now he had only to find the door. It’s my belief,” Jenna added wryly,

“that he found it.”

“So you do not think he destroyed himself when he destroyed the Tower,” Palin said.

“The Tower’s gone?” Tas was stunned. “That great big Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas? What happened to it?”

“I am not even convinced he blew up the Tower,” Jenna said, continuing the conversation as if the kender wasn’t there. “Oh, I know what people say. That he destroyed the Tower for fear the dragon Khellendros would seize it and use its magic. I saw the pile of rubble that was left. People found all sorts of magical artifacts in the ruins. I bought many of them and resold them later for five times what I paid for them. But I know something I’ve never told anyone. The truly valuable artifacts that were in the Tower were never found. Not a trace. The scrollbooks, the spellbooks, those belonging to Raistlin and Fistandantilus, Dalamar’s own spellbooks—those were gone, too. People thought they were destroyed in the blast. If so,” she added with fine irony, “the blast was extremely selective. It took only what was valuable and important, left the trinkets behind.”

She eyed Palin speculatively. “Tell me, my friend, would you take this device to Dalamar if you had the chance?”

Palin stirred restlessly. “Probably not, now that I think of it. If he knew I had it, the device would not remain long in my possession. ”

“Do you truly intend to use it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Palin was evasive. “What do you think? Would it be dangerous?”

“Yes, very,” she answered.

“But the kender used it—”

“If you believe him, he used it in his own time,” she said.

“And that was the time of the gods. The artifact is now in this time. You know as well as I do that the magic of the artifacts from the Fourth Age is erratic in nature. Some artifacts behave perfectly predictably and others go haywire.”

“So I won’t really find out until I try,” Palin said. “What do you suppose could happen?”

“Who knows!” Jenna lifted her hands, the jewels on her fingers glittered. “The journey alone might kill you. You might be stranded back in time, unable to return. You might accidently do something to change the past and, in so doing, obliterate the present. You might blow up this house and everything around it for a twenty-mile radius. I would not risk it. Not for a kender tale.”

“Yet I would like to go back to before the Chaos War. Go back simply to look. Perhaps I could see the moment where destiny veered off the path it should have taken. Then we would know how to steer it back on the right course.”—

Jenna snorted. “You speak of time as if it were a horse and cart. For all you know, this kender has made up this nonsensical story of a future in which the gods never left us. He is a kender, after all.”

“But he is an unusual kender. My father believed him, and Caramon knew something about traveling through time.”

“Your father also said the kender and the device were to be given to Dalamar,” Jenna reminded him.

Palin frowned. “I think we have to find out the truth for ourselves,” he argued. “I believe that it is worth the risk. Consider this, Jenna. If there is another future, a better future for our world, a future in which the gods did not depart, no price would be too great to pay for it.”

“Even your life?” she asked.

“My life!” Palin was bitter. “Of what value is my life to me now? My wife is right. The old magic is gone, the new magic is dead. I am nothing without the magic!”

“I do not believe that the new magic is dead,” Jenna said gravely. “Nor do I believe those who say that we ‘used it all up.’ Does one use up water? Does one use up air? The magic is a part of this world. We could not consume it.”

“Then what has happened to it?” Palin demanded impatiently. “Why do our spells fail? Why do even simple spells require so much energy that one has to go to bed for a week after casting them?”

“Do you remember that old test they used to give us in school?”

Jenna asked. “The one where they put an object on the table and tell you to move it without touching it. You do, and then they put the object on a table behind a brick wall and tell you to move it. Suddenly, it’s much more difficult. Since you can’t see the object, it’s difficult to focus your magic on it. I feel the same when I try to cast a spell—as if something is in the way. A brick wall, if you will. Goldmoon told me her healers were experiencing similar feelings—”

“Goldmoon!” Tas cried eagerly. “Where is Goldmoon? If anyone could fix things around here, it’s Goldmoon.” He was on his feet, as if he would run out the door that instant. “She’ll know what to do. Where is she?”

“Goldmoon? Who brought up Goldmoon? What does she have to do with anything?” Palin glowered at the kender. “Please sit down and be quiet! You’ve interrupted my thoughts!”

“I’d really like to see Goldmoon,” Tas said, but he said it quietly, under his breath, so as not to disturb Palin.

The mage lifted the device carefully in his hand, turned it over, examined it, caressed it.

“Your wife was right,” Jenna stated. “You’re going to use the device, aren’t you, Palin?”

“Yes, I am,” he replied, closing his hands over it.

“No matter what I say?”

“No matter what anyone says.” He glanced at her, appeared embarrased. “Thank you for your help. I’m certain my sister can find you a room at the Inn. I’ll send word.”

“Did you really think I would leave and miss this?” Jenna asked,amused.

“It’s dangerous. You said—”

“These days, walking across the street is dangerous.” Jenna shrugged. “Besides, you will need a witness. Or at the very least,” she added lightly, “you’ll need someone to identify your body.”

“Thank you very much,” Palin said, but he managed a smile, the first Tas had seen the mage wear. Palin drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. His hands holding the device trembled.

“When should we try this?” he asked.

“No time like the present,” Jenna said and grinned.