from the High Priest, they raised their voices to try to drown out Raistlin's words with their chanting. Caramon

was on his feet, standing protectively beside his brother, keeping a baleful eye upon the acolytes, who had

grabbed torches and were hastening down the aisle toward them.

Raistlin paid no attention to the uproar. He was watching Judith. She had ceased her spell-casting. Locating

him in the crowd, she stared at him. In the semidarkness, she did not

recognize him. She saw his white robes, however, and immediately recognized her own danger. She was confounded,

but only for a moment. Quickly she regained her composure.

"Beware the wizard!" she cried. "Seize him and take him away. His kind are forbidden in the temple. He comes to

work his evil magic among us!"

"Let us hear more about evil magic, Widow Judith," Raistlin shouted.

She knew him then. Her face suffused with the blood of her rage. Her eyes widened, the white rims visible around

the dilated pupils. Her pallid lips moved without speech. She stared at him, and he was appalled at the hatred he

saw in her eyes, appalled and alarmed. His conviction wavered.

She sensed him faltering, and her lips parted in a terrible smile. She did what she should have done at first.

Disdainfully she turned from him, ignored him.

The acolytes clattered down the steps toward him. Fortunately some of the audience had moved into the aisle,

hoping tosee better, and were blocking the way. Caramon, fists clenched, was ready to hold the acolytes off, but it

would be only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

"I can prove my accusations are true!" Raistlin cried. His voice cracked. People began to boo and hiss.

Embarrassed, feeling his audience slipping away, he struggled to retain his desperate hold. "The woman who calls

herself a High Priestess performs what she calls a miracle. I say it is magic, and to prove it, I will cast the very same

spell. Watch as I bring you another so-called god! Behold!"

Raistlin did not need the scroll. The words of the spell were in his blood. The magic formed a pool of fire around

his fast-beating heart, his blood carried the magic into every part of his body. He recited the words of magic,

pronouncing each correctly and precisely, reveling in the exhilarating sensation as the magic flowed like molten steel

through his fingers, his hands, his arms.

Drawing on the energies of those watching him, utilizing even the hatred and fury of his enemies to his own

advantage, Raistlin cast forth the magic. The spell streamed out of him, seemed to uplift him, carry him along on

radiating waves of heat and fire.

A giant appeared before the audience. A fearful giant, a giant with a topknot, wearing green plaid pants and a

purple silk shirt, a giant draped with pouches, a giant trying his very best

to look as if he appreciated the enormity of the situation. "Behold!" Raistlin called again. "The Giant Kender of

Balifor!"

People gasped, then someone tittered. Someone else giggled, the nervous giggle of tense situations. The

giant kender began moving down the aisle, his face so solemn and serious that his nose quivered with the

effort.

"Summon Belzor!" cried one wit. "Sic Belzor on the kender!"

"My money's on the kender!" cried another.

Gales of merriment rippled through the crowd, most of whom had come to see a spectacle and were feeling

well rewarded. A few of the faithful cried out in anger, demanded that the wizard cease his sacrilege, but the

laughter, once started, was difficult to halt.

Laughter-a weapon as deadly as any spear.

"In this corner, Belzor ..." cried out someone.

Roars of laughter. Four acolytes had made it down the stairs, were attempting to seize hold of Raistlin.

Caramon pushed the acolytes back, knocking them aside with his bare hands.

Their neighbors, who were enjoying the show an d didn't want it to end, joined in the shoving match. Some

of the faithful sided with the acolytes. Three men who had come to the temple straight from the beer tent leapt

eagerly into the fray, not caring whose side they took. A small riot erupted around Raistlin.

Shouts and screams and cries drew the attention of the Haven town guards who were in attendance. They

had been glancing nervously at their captain, fearing that at any moment they might be ordered to arrest the