"Your knife-"

"Someone stole it in the confusion in the temple. Took it from my belt. I would have told you if you had asked

me, instead of accusing me like that. That's the truth. That's what happened, but do you think anyone will believe

me?"

No, Caramon was quite certain no one would believe her. "Come along," Kit ordered. "We'll wake Tanis. He'll

know what to do."

She laced on her leather vest. Her sword lay on the floor, next to where she'd been sleeping. Grabbing hold of

it, she buckled the belt around her waist.

"Not a word about my little joke to the half-elf," she said to Caramon, lightly stroking his arm. "He wouldn't

understand."

Caramon nodded his head, unable to speak. He wouldn't tell anyone, ever. It was too shameful, too horrible.

Perhaps it had been a joke-gallows humor. But Caramon didn't think so. He could still hear her words, the

vehemence with which they were spoken. He could still see the eerie light in her eyes. Hedrew away from her.

Her touch made his flesh crawl.

Kit patted him on the arm, as if he were a good child who had eaten all his porridge. Shoving past him, she

strode out the tent, yelling Tanis's name as she walked.

Caramon was heading for the booth to wake up Flint when he heard a loud voice shouting, echoing through

the fairgrounds.

"There's going to a wizard-burning! Come and see! They're going to bum the wizard!"

Raistlin started to wakefulness, a sense of danger bursting like lightning on his sleep, jolting him out of

terrifying dreams. Instinctively he kept still, shivering beneath a

thin blanket, until his mind was awake and active and he had

located the source of the danger.

He smelled the smoke of burning torches, heard the voices outside, the prison, and lay immobilized, listening

fearfully.

"And I tell you men," the guard was saying, "the wizard's trial'll be held tomorrow. Today, that is. You'll have your

say then before the High Sheriff."

"The High Sheriff has no jurisdiction in this case!" a deep voice responded. "The wizard murdered my wife, our

priestess! He will burn this night, as all witches must burn for their heinous crimes! Stand aside, jailer. There's only

two of you and more than thirty of us. We don't want innocent people to get hurt."

In the adjacent cells, the kender were chattering with excitement, shoving benches over to the windows in order to

see and lamenting the fact that they were locked up in prison and would miss the wizard's roasting. At this, someone

suggested they once again pick the lock. Unfortunately, following the theft of their keys, the guards had added a

chain and padlock to the kenders' cell door, which considerably raised the level of difficulty. Nothing daunted, the

kender set to work.

"Rankin! Go fetch the captain," the jailkeep ordered.

There came the sound of a scuffle outside, shouts, cursings, and a cry of pain.

"Here are the keys," said the same deep voice. "Two of you, enter the jail and bring him out."

"What about the captain of the guard and the sheriff?" a

voice asked. "Won't they try to interfere?"

"Some of our brethren have already dealt with them. They will not trouble us this night. Go fetch the wizard."

Raistlin jumped to his feet, trying desperately to quell his panic and think what to do. His few magic spells

came to mind, but the jailer had taken away the pouches containing his spell components. Between his extreme

weariness and his fright, he doubted if he had strength or wit enough to cast them anyway.

And what good would they do me? he reflected bitterly. I could not send thirty people to sleep. I might be able

to cast a spell that would hold the cell door shut, but as weak as I am, I could not maintain it for long. I have no

other weapons. I am helpless! Completely at their mercy!

The priests in their sky -blue robes appeared, holding their torches high, searching one cell after another.

Raistlin fought the wild, panicked urge to hide in a shadowy corner. He pictured them finding him, dragging him

out ignominiously. He forced himself to wait in stoic calm for them to reach him. Dignity and pride were all he