"What do you mean, you got rid of Tanis? How?"

Kit shrugged. "I told him that a messenger had come by with word that Tasslehoff had been thrown into

prison. Tanis promised the town guard that he'd be responsible for the kender, so there wasn't much he could do

but go see to the matter."

"There's the temple-where that bright light is shining." Raistlin pointed, hoping his brother would take the hint

and drop the subject. "I suggest we turn down this road." He indicated the Hostlers Street.

Caramon persisted. "Is Tas in prison?"

"If he's not now, he soon will be," Kit answered with a grin and wink. "I didn't tell much of a lie."

"I thought you liked Tanis," Caramon said in a low voice.

"Oh, grow up, Caramon!" Kit returned, exasperated. "Of course I like Tanis. I like him better than any other

man I've ever known. Just because I like a man doesn't mean I want him hanging around every minute of every

hour of every day! And you have to admit that Tanis is a bit of a spoilsport. There was this time I captured a

goblin alive. I wanted to have some fun, but Tanis said-"

"I believe that this is the temple," Raistlin stated.

The temple of Belzor was a large and imposing structure, built of granite wrested from the nearby Kharolis

Mountains and dragged into Haven on ox-drawn skids. The building had

been erected hastily and possessed neither grace nor beauty. It was square in shape, short, and squat, topped with a

crude dome. The temple had no windows. Carvings-not very good carvings-of hooded vipers adorned the granite

walls. The building had been designed to be functional, to house the various priests and priestesses who labored in

Belzor's name, and to hold ceremonies honoring their god.

About twenty priests formed a double line outside the temple, funneling the faithful and the curious into the open

door. The priests held blazing torches in their hands and were friendly and smiling, inviting all to come inside to

witness the miracle of Belzor. Six huge wrought-iron braziers, their iron legs made in the image of twisted snakes,

had been placed on either side of the doorway. The braziers were filled with coal that, by the smell, had been

sprinkled with incense. Flames leapt high, sending sparks flying into the night sky, filling the air with smoke laced

with a cloying scent.

Kit wrinkled her nose. Caramon coughed; the smoke seemed to seize him by the throat. Raistlin sniffed, choked.

"Cover your nose and mouth! Quickly!" he warned his brother and sister. "Don't breathe the smoke!"

Kit clapped her gloved hand over her nose. Raistlin covered his face with his shirt sleeve. Caramon fumbled for a

handkerchief, only to find it missing. (It would be discovered the next day, inside Tasslehoff's pocket, where the

kender had put it for safekeeping.)

"Hold your breath!" Raistlin insisted, his voice muffled by his sleeve.

Caramon tried, but just as he was entering the temple, shuffling along with a crowd of people going the sameway,

an acolyte used a gigantic feather fan to waft the smoke directly into Caramon's face. He blinked, gasped, and sucked

in a huge breath.

"Get that thing away from us!" And when the acolyte didn't move fast enough to please her, Kit gave the youth a

shove, nearly knocking the youngster down.

Kit caught hold of Caramon, who had veered drunkenly off to the right. Dragging him along, she swiftly mingled

with the crowd entering the temple. Raistlin slid through the press of bodies, keeping close to his brother and sister.

They entered a wide corridor, which opened into a large arena located directly beneath the dome. Granite benches

formed a circle around a recessed center stage. Priests guided

the people to their seats, urging them to move to the center in order to accommodate the crowd.

"There's Sturm!" said Kit.

Ignoring a priest's instructions, she barged down several stairs to reach the front of the arena.

Caramon stumbled after her. "I fee l awful strange," he said to his twin. He put his hand to his head. "The

room's going round and round."

"I told you not to breathe in the smoke," Raistlin muttered, and did what he could to guide his brother's

fumbling steps.

"What was that stuff?" Kit asked over her shoulder.

"They are burning poppy seeds. The smoke brings about a feeling of pleasant euphoria. I find it interesting to