the direction of the men's privies.

Sturm frowned. He did not approve of Kit's levity on serious subjects. "I do not like these followers of Belzor,

but you must admit that we did see a miracle performed in that arena. What other explanation can there be,

except that Belzor is a god and his priests have miraculous powers?"

"I'll give you an explanation," Raistlin said. "Magic." "Magic?"

Kit laughed again. Sturm was disapproving. Flint said, "I knew it," though no one could figure out how. "Are

you certain, Raistlin?" Tanis asked.

"I am," Raistlin answered. "I am familiar with the spell she cast."

Tanis appeared dubious. "Forgive me, Raistlin. I'm not casting doubt on your knowledge, but you are only a

novice." "And as such I am fit for nothing except washing out my

master's chamber pot. Is that what you are saying, Tanis?" "I didn't mean-"

Raistlin dismissed the apology with an irritated wave of his hand. "I know what you meant. And what you

think of me or my abilities makes no difference to me. I have further evidence that what I say is true, but it is

obvious that Tanis does not care to hear it."

"I want to hear it," said Caramon stoutly. He had returned

from his short jaunt, seemed to be feeling better.

"Tell us," said Kit, her dark eyes glinting in the firelight. "Yes, lad, let us hear your evidence," said Flint.

"Mind you,

I knew it was magic all along."

"Bring me a blanket, my brother," Raistlin ordered. "I will

catch my death, sitting on this damp ground." When he was comfortable, seated on a blanket near the fire and

sipping at a glass of mulled cider, which Kit brought him, he explained his reasoning.

"My first indication that something might be wrong was when I heard that the priests were forbidding users of

magic to enter the temple. Not only that, but they are actively persecuting the one wizard who lives in Haven, a

Red Robe named Lemuel. Caramon and I met him this afternoon. The priests forced him to close his mageware

shop. They have frightened him into fleeing his home, the house where he was born. In addition to this, the

priests have prohibited all mages from entering their temple when the 'miracle' is performed. Why? Because any

magic-user, even a novice such as myself," Raistlin added in acid tones, "would recognize the spell Judith casts."

"Why did they force that friend of yours, that Lemuel, to close down his mageware shop?" Caramon asked.

"How could a shop hurt them?"

"Shutting down Lemuel's mageware shop insures that the wizards who frequented that shop-wizards who

might expose Judith-will no longer have a reason to come to Haven. When Lemuel leaves town, the priests will

consider themselves safe."

"But then why did that priest invite you to the temple, little brother?" Kit asked.

"In order to make certain I would not be a nuisance," Raistlin replied. "Remember, he said that I would not be

allowed inside to witness the 'miracle.' Undoubtedly, had I gone, they would have urged me to renounce magic

and embrace Belzor."

"I'd like to embrace him," Caramon growled, flexing his big hands. "I've got the worst hangover I've ever had

in my life, and I never touched a drop. Life's not fair, as the kender says."

"But those people who spoke to Belzor." Sturm was arguing in favor of the miracle. "How did the Widow

Judith know all those things about them? A husband's pet name for his wife, where that farmer hid his money?"

"Remember, those people who appeared before Belzor were handpicked," Raistlin replied. "Judith probably

interviewed them in advance. Through skillful questioning, she could elicit information from them, information

about their husbands and family, information they don't realize they are providing. As for the farmer and the

hidden money, they did not tell him publicly where to find it. When he comes to the temple, they'll tell him to

search under the mattress. If that fails, they'll tell him he

lacked faith in Belzor, and if he contributes more money, they'll offer him another place to search."

"There's something I don't understand," said Flint, thinking things over. "If this widow woman is a wizardess,

why did she attach herself to your mother, then denounce her at your father's funeral?"

"That puzzled me, too, at first," Raistlin admitted. "But then it made sense. Judith was trying to introduce the