giant kender. The captain himself was considerably baffled. He had sudden visions of the giant kender

incarcerated in the Haven jail, with most of his torso and his topknotted head and shoulders sticking up

through the hole they would have to cut in the roof.

Under these circumstances, a riot-plain and simple-was extremely welcome. Ignoring the giant kinder, the

captain ordered his men to quell the riot.

The giant kender continued to march down the aisle, but few were paying attention to him anymore. By this

time, most of the people in the arena were on their feet.

The prudent, seeing that the situation was quickly getting dangerously out of hand, gathered up their

families and headed for the exits.

Thrill-seekers stood on their seats, trying to obtain a better view. Young men in the audience charged

gleefully across the

arena to take part in the fight. Several children, escaping their frantic mothers, were in hot pursuit of the giant

kender.

A group of visiting dwarves were taking on all comers and swearing that this was the best religious meeting they

had attended since before the time of the Cataclysm.

Raistlin stood on the marble seat, where he had taken refuge. The knowledge that he had wrought this confusion,

that he had fomented this chaos, appalled him. And then, it thrilled him.

He tasted the power and its taste was sweet, sweeter to him than love, sweeter than gain. Raistlin saw for himself

the fatal flaws in his fellow mortals. He saw their greed and prejudice, their gullibility, their perfidy, their baseness.

He despised them for it, and he knew, in that instant, that he could make use of such flaws for his own ends,

whatever those ends might be. He could use his power for good, if he chose. He could use it for ill.

He turned, in his triumph, to the High Priestess.

She was gone. Kitiara was gone, too, Raistlin realized in consternation.

He caught hold of the back of Caramon's shirt-the only part of him he could reach-and gave it a jerk. Caramon

was wrestling two of the acolytes. He held one at arm's length, his hand at the throat of another. All the while he was

telling them over and over that they should just settle down and leave honest people alone. The jerk on his collar

half-strangled Caramon, caused him to twist his head around.

"Let them go!" Raistlin shouted. "Come with me!"

Fists flailed around them, men heaved and shoved and shouted and swore. In their attempt to restore order, the

guards increased the confusion. Raistlin took a moment to search the crowd for Sturm, but couldn't find him. The

giant kender had disappeared, the spell faded as the audience's readiness to believe in the illusion subsided.

Tasslehoff, returned to his normal size, was buried beneath an avalanche of smallboys.

The magic was gone from Raistlin as well, leaving him drained, as if he had cut open an artery, spilled his life's

blood. Every movement took an effort, every word spoken required concentrated thought. He longed desperately to

curl up under a soft blanket and sleep, sleep for days. But he dared not. Yet when he took a step, he swayed and

nearly fell.

Caramon took firm hold of his brother's arm. "Raist, you look terrible! What's the matter? Are you sick? Here, I'll

carry you."

"You will not! Shut up and listen to me!" Raistlin had neither the time nor the energy to waste on Caramon's

nonsense.

He started to thrust aside Caramon's supportive arm, then realized that he might well collapse without it. "Help

me walk, then. Not that way, ninny! The door beneath the snake! We must find Judith!"

Caramon glowered. "Find that witch? What for? Good riddance. The Abyss take her!"

"You don't know what you're saying, Caramon," Raistlin gasped, foreboding sending a shudder through him.

"Come with me or I will go myself."

"Sure, Raist," Caramon said, subdued, impressed by his brother's urgent tone. "Out of our way!" he cried, and

punched a skinny town guardsman, who was trying ineffectually to get his hands around Caramon's thick neck.

Caramon helped Raistlin climb down from the seats, assisted him over the rope used to keep the faithful from

entering the arena.

"Watch out for the vipers!" Raistlin warned, leaning on Caramon's strong arm. " The charm that held them is