Brother's Majere

Chapter 21

The door to the estate was unlocked, and Raistlin turned the handle without a sound, walking through the foyer and front room to the library. The councillor, wearing a white silk gown that clung about her flawless shoulders as if it possessed a life of its own, sat in a chair in front of the fire, arranging the varied pieces on the black and white gameboard on top of a small table.

“Very fitting,” said Raistlin softly, the door closing behind him.

“Welcome, Master Mage. Have you been successful in your mission?”

“It appears that you were expecting me,” he said.

“Please.” Shavas gestured to the chair opposite her. “Yes, I have.”

The mage nodded, taking the offered seat. His face was flushed with red light from the fireplace, giving his skin a sheen of bronze.

“A game?”

“We are much alike, Councillor,” Raistlin said.

“How do you mean?” Shavas asked, her graceful hands arranging her pieces for the first move.

“We both have the same desires.”

“Ah!” Shavas lifted her head. Her word held a volume of meaning, of promise. Her gaze was warm, her voice and body alluring. Her face was incomparably beautiful.

Raistlin, swallowing, began setting up his own pieces. He watched Shavas’s hands carefully, saw her fingers shake. She accidentally knocked over a foot soldier.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

She shook her head briskly, tightening her lips, her pale skin flushing in the heat of the fire. “Who shall go first?” she asked.

“I will,” Raistlin replied, pushing a yeoman forward. “I must admit that I am surprised to find you so calm, with your city in such chaos. What has happened?”

Shavas glanced up. “Don’t you know? Where have you been?” She pushed her own yeoman to counter her opponent’s. “Lord Brunswick was murdered last night. Lady Masak was killed just … just this afternoon.”

“You can’t move that piece yet.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t … thinking.”

“How did they die?” Raistlin brought out another yeoman.

“The same as Lord Manion. They were killed by a giant cat.”

The mage lifted one of his knights from the board, replacing it in front of his lines.

The councillor removed a small bar from the scales at the side of the table, shifting the balance very slightly in Raistlin’s favor. She placed a metal barrier, carved to resemble a hedgerow, in front of the knight.

“It is now my turn to ask questions. You have found the reason for the cats’ disappearances?”

Raistlin sent the knight around the hedge, pressing forward, evening the scales by removing one of his own ingots and placing it next to the figure.

“No, I have not. Do you have any information to add to the investigation?”

Shavas paused before answering, placing her fingers against her mouth in thought. She opened a drawer in the board and took out a footman, clad in heaviest armor, placing it two squares in front of Raistlin’s champion.

“It seems late to further a lost cause.”

Raistlin detected a note of relief in her voice.

“How, then, have you spent your time?” she questioned.

The mage left his knight where it was, placing another marker next to it. “In strange company.”

“Whose?”

Raistlin moved the piece forward, in front of Shavas’s footman. “You know him, I think. You keep his picture … there.” He pointed.

“Really? In a book?”

“Allow me to show you.”

The mage rose from his seat, aided by his staff, and went to the shelf where he had replaced the volume entitled, Mereklar and the Lord of Cats.

It was gone.

Raistlin glanced back at Shavas. “Ah, I see you’ve found it for yourself.”

The woman appeared uneasy. “I have no idea what you mean. But perhaps I have seen the man. What does he look like?”

“Tall, with dark skin and hair. Many would consider him handsome,” the mage replied, with a slight touch of bitterness. He returned to his seat, scanning the board with expert ability.

“And his eyes, are they … unusual in any way?”

“Unusual? How do you mean?”

“Did they … shine, reflect, in the light?”

“Perhaps. I didn’t notice. I didn’t spend time gazing into his eyes,” said Raistlin. He removed the opposing footman from the board and the yeoman behind it, setting it into its square.

The councillor bit her lower lip and scraped her tapered fingernails against the varnished table, leaving a slight mark of their passage in the wood. Reaching to the scales, she removed another ingot, this one larger than the others.

Raistlin frowned, wondering at her strategy. The spell she was about to cast was powerful. In defense, he took a marker of his own.

Shavas lifted her knight, dropped it nervously.

“He is here!” she said in a hollow voice. “He has come to kill us all!”

“Who?”

“You know very well who I’m talking about! The Lord of the Cats! He has come to punish the Council of Mereklar.” Shavas reached out a lovely, trembling hand to Raistlin. “I desperately need your protection!”

“The Cat Lord? If is it truly he, then he is a demi-god. How can I stand against one so powerful?” Raistlin asked.

“I didn’t tell you this before,” Shavas began, taking a deep breath, “but my ancestors collected several items of magic in their journeys. One of them is this broach of good fortune I wear”-she touched the golden necklace with the fire opal-“and the other is this.” Opening the drawer to the table, Shavas removed a triangular leather pouch that bulged in the center. “It is a weapon.”

Raistlin was not looking at the bag. He was staring at the necklace, thinking that it looked incomplete, unfinished. Why didn’t I notice that before? he asked himself.

Because you weren’t looking at the necklace, a mocking, inner voice answered.

Shavas opened the pouch, taking out a short wand. Raistlin glanced at it, saw that it was bent at one end, and fitted with a metal ring at the other. It was covered with runes and sigla. He did not touch it.

“How does it work?”

“I’m not certain. I’ve never used it. I’ve never had any need. But, I was told by my father that it takes our feelings and amplifies them a hundredfold. If you want to destroy an enemy, you have only to feel his destruction and point the wand at him, like this.”

She held the weapon by the bent end, pointing the tip at Raistlin.

The mage made no comment. He did not move.

Shavas, smiling and lowering her eyes, turned the wand around and handed it to him. Raistlin replaced it in the bag, then tucked the bag into his robes.

“Now, you can protect me,” Shavas said. “It is a powerful weapon. It can destroy even a demi-god.”

She leaned forward and her gown slipped, revealing her white bosom. The opal hung glittering from her soft neck. “And when this terrible nightdream is over, we will have time to ourselves.”

“You mean you and my brother will have time,” Raistlin said, sneering. Why did I say that? What is she doing to me? He snarled at himself inwardly. Remember! Remember what you have seen!

“I admit it,” said Shavas, her fingers caressing the mage’s hand. “I … met with Caramon”-she blushed like a schoolgirl-“but it was only to make you jealous. You’re the one I want!”

Her voice was low and husky. There was a ring of truth to her last statement that startled Raistlin. He stared at her, entranced.

“I am wealthy, powerful! I could give you … so much! Do this one thing for me! Destroy the Lord of the Cats!”

Raistlin slowly removed his arm from the woman’s grasp. She let him go, sitting back in her chair. The mage stared down at the board, at the warrior of the dead who stood before his champion.

“From the way you speak, you sound as if you know where he is.”

“Not where he is, where he might be. Lord Cal is very efficient. We think the Cat Lord may be trapped in Leman Square, east of the center of Southgate Street.”

“I have seen it,” the mage said, standing. “Shall I go there now, lady?”

“Yes!” she cried. “And if you succeed, come back to me … tonight.”

“Yes,” said Raistlin, gazing at her intently. “I will be back. Tonight.”