"Wait!" Raistlin struggled out from behind Caramon to try to reach his sister, but they were caught in a press of

people and it was too late. Kitiara had seized hold of one of the priests and was now being led by him through the

crowd.

What was she going to do?

Raistlin cursed his sister for her distrustful, secretive nature, but even as he muttered the words, he was forced to

bite them off. Blood to blood, as the dwarves say. He might as well curse himself. He had said nothing of his plans to

Kitiara.

"You can put your shirt down now!" he snapped at Caramon, nervousness making him irritable.

"Where do you want us?" Sturm asked.

"You and the kender go to the very back wall," Raistlin said, pointing to the upper tiers of seats in the arena. He

gave them their final instructions. "Tas, when I shout 'Behold,' you start walking down the aisle. Walk slowly and

keep your mind on what you're doing. Don't allow yourself to get distracted by anything, do you understand? If you

obey me, you will see such wonderful magic as you've never seen in your entire life."

"I will, Raistlin," Tas promised. "'Behold."' He repeated the word several times, in order not to forget it. " 'Behold,

behold, behold.' I saw a beholder once. Did I ever tell you-"

"No kender allowed," said a blue-robed priest, descending on them.

Unable and unwilling to lie, Sturm stood with his hand on the kender's shoulder. Raistlin's breath caught in his

throat. He dared not intervene, dared not draw attention to himself. Fortunately for all of them, Tasslehoff was

accustomed to being thrown out of places.

"Oh, he's just escorting me off now, sir," the kender said with a beaming smile.

"Is that true?"

Sturm, his mustaches bristling, inclined his head the merest fraction, the closest he had come in his entire life to

telling a falsehood. Perhaps the Measure sanctioned lies in a good cause.

"Then I'm sorry for interfering with you, sir," said the priest in mollifying tones. "Please don't let me keep you

from your task. The doors are in that direction." He waved his hand.

Sturm bowed coldly and dragged Tasslehoff away, shushing the kender's remarks with a stern "Silence!" and a

shake of the small shoulder to emphasize the point.

Raistlindrew breath again.

"Where to?" Caramon asked, peering over the heads of the crowd.

"Somewhere near the front."

"Keep close behind me," Caramon advised.

Thrusting out with his elbows, he shouldered and jostled and eventually cleared a path through the throng. People

scowled, but on noting his size, they kept any angry remarks they had been about to make to themselves.

The lower seats near the arena were filled. There was perhaps room for one person-and that a small person-at the

end of the aisle. "Watch this," Caramon said to his brother with a wink.

Caramon plunked himself down on the empty seat, shifting and bumping his body against that of his neighbor, a

wealthy woman, finely dressed, who glared at him. Coldly and pointedly, she moved away from his touch. Raistlin

was wondering what this was going to accomplish, for there was still no room for him, when Caramon suddenly let

out a great belch and then noisily passed gas.

People in the vicinity grimaced, regarded Caramon with disgust. The woman beside him clapped her hand over her

nose and glared at Caramon, who gave a shamefaced grin.

"Beans for dinner," he said.

The woman rose to her feet. Sweeping her silk skirts, she favored him with a scathing glance and the comment,

"Clod! I can't think why they permit your kind in here! I shall certainly protest!" She flounced off up the stairs,

searching for one of the priests.

Caramon waved his brother to come sit down in the empty place beside him.

"I had not realized you could be so subtle, my brother," Raistlin murmured as he took his seat.

"Yeah, that's me! Subtle!" Caramon chuckled.

Raistlin searched the crowd and soon located Sturm, standing in the shadow of a pillar near an aisle. Tasslehoff

was not visible, Sturm had probably stashed the kender in the shadows.