come to see.

Judith lowered her arms with a sudden dramatic gesture,

I.

which caused the voluminous sleeves to fall and cover her hands, hiding them from sight. The High Priest began

to chant, calling upon Belzor. Judith tilted her head. Her eyes closed, her lips moved in silent prayer.

The statue moved.

Raistlin's attention had been focused on Judith; he caught sight of the movement out of the corner of his eye.

He shifted his gaze to the statue, at the same time drawing his brother's attention to it with a nudge.

"Huh?" Caramon gave a violent start.

The crude stone statue of the viper had come to life. It twisted and writhed, yet as Raistlin narrowed his gaze

to focus on the statue, he was not convinced that the stone itself was moving.

"It's like a shadow," he said to himself. "It is as if the shadow of the snake has come to life ... I wonder. .."

"Do you see that?" Caramon gasped, awe-struck and breathless. "It's alive! Kit, do you see that? Sturm? The

statue is alive!"

The shadowy form of the snake, its hood spread wide, slithered forward across the arena. The viper was

enormous, the swaying head brushed the high domed ceiling. The viper, tongue flickering, crawled toward the

High Priestess. Women cried out, children shrieked, men called hoarse warnings.

"Do not be afraid!" cried the High Priest, raising his hands, palm outward, to quiet the worshipers. "What you

see is the spirit of Belzor. He will not harm the righteous. He comes to bring us word from beyond."

The snake slithered to a halt behind Judith. Its hooded head swayed benignly over her, its gleaming eyes

stared out into the crowd. Raistlin glanced at the priests and priestesses in the arena. Some, especially the young,

gazed up at the snake with wonder, utterly believing. The audience shared that belief, reveled in the miracle.

A subdued Kit was grudgingly impressed. Caramon was a firm believer. Only Sturm remained doubtful, it

seemed. It would take more than a stone statue come to life to displace Paladine.

Judith's head lifted. She wore an expression of ecstasy, her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, her

lips parted. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.

"Belzor calls forth Obadiah Miller."

The widow of the late Miller stepped nervously forward, her hands clasped. Judith shut her eyes, stood

slightly swaying on her feet, in rhythm with the snake.

"You may speak to your husband," said the High Priest. "Obadiah, are you happy?" asked the widow.

"Most happy, Lark!" Judith replied in an altered voice, deep

and gravely.

"Lark!" The widow pressed her hands to her bosom. "That was his pet name for me! It is Obadiah!"

"And it would please me very much, my dear," the late Obadiah continued, "if you would give a portion of the

money I left you to the Temple of Belzor."

"I will, Obadiah. I will!"

The widow would have spoken with her husband further, but the priest gently urged her to step back, permitting

the next widow to take her place.

This one greeted her late husband, wanted to know if they should plant cabbages next year or turn the parcel of

land on the sunny slope over to turnips. Speaking through Judith, the late husband insisted on cabbages, adding

that it would please him very much if a certain portion of all their produce should be given to the Temple of Belzor.

At this, Kit sat up straight. She cast a sharp, questioning look at Raistlin.

He glanced at her sidelong, nodded his head once very slightly.

Kit lifted her brows, silently interrogating him.

Raistlin shook his head. Now was not the time.

Kit sat back, satisfied, the pleased smile again on her face.

The other widows spoke to their dead. Each time the deceased husband came forth, he managed to say something

that only a wife would know. The husbands all concluded by requesting money for Belzor, which the widows

promised, wiping away happy tears, to grant.

Judith asked that the farmer searchi ng for his lost heritage come forward.