Raistlin became so absorbed that he completely lost track of time. He was aware that twilight was coming on only

when he found that he was having to hold the books to his nose to be able to read them. He was about to set off in

search of candles when Lemuel tapped at the door.

"What do you want?" Raistlin demanded irritably.

"Excuse me for disturbing you," Lemuel said meekly, poking his head inside. "But your brother says that it will be

dark soon and that you should be going."

Raistlin remembered where he was, remembered that he was a guest in this man's house. He jumped to his feet in

shame and confusion. One of the precious volumes slid from his lap and tumbled to the floor.

"Sir, please forgive my rudeness! I was so interested, this is so fascinating, I forgot that I was not in my own home-

"That's quite all right!" Lemuel interrupted, smiling pleasantly. "Think nothing of it. You sounded just like my

father. Took me back in time. I was a boy again for a moment. Did you find anything of use?"

Raistlin gestured at the three large stacks of books near the chair.

"All these. Did you know that there is an account of the minotaur battle for Silvanesti in here? And this is a

description of how to use battle spells effectively, without endangering your own troops. These three are books of

spells. I have yet to look through the others. I would offer to buy them, but I know I do not have the means."He

gazed sadly at the pile, wondering despairingly how he would ever manage to save up enough money.

"Oh, take them," Lemuel said, waving his hand casually around the room.

"What? Really, sir? Are you serious?" Raistlin caught hold of the back of the chair to steady himself. "No, sir,"he

said recovering. "That would be too much. I could never repay you."

"Pooh! If you don't take them, I'll have to move them, and I'm running out of crates." Lemuel spoke very glibly

about leaving his home, but even as he tried to make this small joke, he was gazing sadly around him. "They'll only

go into an attic, to be eaten by mice. I would much rather they were put to good use. And I think it would please my

father. You are the son he wanted."

Tears stung Raistlin's eyes. His fatigue from the three days of travel, which included not only time on the road but

also time spent climbing the mountains of hope and plummeting into the valleys of disappointment, had left him

weak. Lemuel's kindness and generosity disarmed Raistlin completely. He had no words to thank the man and could

only stand in humble, joyous silence, blinking back the tears that burned his eyelids and closed his throat.

"Raist?" Caramon's anxious voice came floating up the staircase. "It's getting dark and I'm starved. Are you all

right?"

"You'll need a wagon to cart these home in," observed Lemuel.

"I have ... my friend ... wagon ... at the fair ..." Raistlin didn't seem to be able to manage a coherent sentence.

"Excellent. When the fair is ended, drive over here. I'll have these books all packed for you and ready to go."

Raistlin drew out his purse, pressed it into Lemuel's hand. "Please, take this. It isn't much, it doesn't nearly begin

to cover what I owe, but I would like you to have it."

"Would you?" Lemuel smiled. "Very well, then. Although it's not necessary, mind you. Still, I recall my father

saying once that magical objects should be purchased, never given as gifts. The exchange of money breaks whatever

hold the previous owner may have had on them, frees them up for the next user."

"And if by chance you should ever come to Solace," Raistlin said, casting one more lingering look into the library

as Lemuel shut the door, "I will give you slips and cuttings of every plant I have in my garden."

"If they are all as excellent as the black bryony," said Lemuel earnestly, "then that is more than payment enough."

Night had fallen by the time the brothers reached the fairgrounds, which were located about a mile outside the

town's stockade. They had no difficulty finding their way. Campfires as numerous as fireflies marked the

campsites of the vendors, their light warm and inviting. The fair itself was filled with people, though none of the

stalls were open and would not be until the next day. Vendors continued to arrive, their wagons rolling down the

rutted road. They called out greetings to friends and exchanged pleasant banter with rivals as they unloaded their

wares.

Many of the buildings on the site were permanent. They had been built by those vendors who attended the fair

frequently, were boarded up during the rest of the year. Flint's was one of these-a small stall with a sheltering

roof. Hinged doors swung wide to permit customers a good view of the merchandise, dis played to best advantage