Raistlin said nothing. He did not leave the table, however, but remained standing, regarded the elf with

more interest.

"There's money to be had," the elf said, smiling.

Raistlin shrugged.

The elf was puzzled at his reaction. "Odd. I thought humans were always interested in money. It seems I

was wrong. What might tempt you? Ah, I know. Magic! Of course. Artifacts, enchanted rings. Spellbooks."

The elf rose gracefully to his feet. "Come meet my brethren. Hear what we've got in mind. Then if you

happen to run across a mage"-the elf winked-"you could let him know he could make his fortune by joining

up with us."

"Bring the wine," Raistlin said. Walking through the inn, he joined the other two elves at their table.

The elf, smiling, picked up the pitcher and brought it along.

Raistlin knew something about the Qualinesti from Tanis, probably knew more than most humans, for he had

questioned the half-elf extensively on elven ways and practices. The three were tall and slender, as are all elves, and

though most elves look alike to humans, Raistlin thought he detected a certain resemblance between them. All three

had green eyes and peculiarly jutting, pointed chins. They were young, probably around two hundred. They wore

short swords beneath their cloaks-he could hear the metal strike the chairs occasionally-and probably carried knives.

He could hear the creak of leather armor.

He wondered what crime they had committed that was vile enough to be sent into exile, a punishment worse than

death to elves. He had the feeling he was about to find out.

The elf who had spoken to Raistlin was the spokesman for the group. The other two rarely opened their mouths.

Perhaps they didn't speak Common. Many elves did not, scorned to learn a human language.

"I am Liam." The elf made introductions. "This is Micah and Renet. And your name would be?..."

"Of little interest to you, sir," Raistlin replied.

"Oh, but I assure you, it is, sir," Liam returned. "I like to

know the name of any man with whom I'm drinking." "Majere," Raistlin said.

"Majere?" Liam frowned. "One of the ancient gods was called by that name, I believe."

"And so am I." Raistlin sipped at his wine. "Though I do not claim godhood. Please explain the nature of this job,

sir. I don't find the company of dark elves so appealing that I want to prolong this interview."

An angry glint came into the eye of one of the other elves, the one called Renet. His fist clenched, he started to

stand. Liam snapped words in elven, shoved his friend back down in his seat. Raistlin's question was answered,

however. At least one of the other elves understood Common.

Raistlin himself spoke a smattering of Qualinesti, having learned the language from Tanis. He did not let on that

he understood what was being said, however, thinking he might pick up useful information if the elves imagined they

could speak freely among themselves in their own tongue.

"This is no time to be thin-skinned, Cousin. We need this human," Liam said in elven.

Shifting to Common, he added, "You must forgive my cousin, sir. He's a bit hot-tempered. I think you might be a

little

friendlier toward us, Majere. We're doing you a big favor."

"If you are looking for friends, I suggest you talk to the barmaid," Raistlin said. "She looks as if she could

accommodate you. If you want to hire a mage, then you should explain the job."

"You are a mage, then," Liam asked with a sly grin. Raistlin nodded.

Liam eyed him. "You look very young."

Raistlin was growing irritated. "You are the one who approached me, sir. You knew what I looked like when

you invited me to join you." He started to rise. "It seems I have wasted my time."

"All right! All right! I don't suppose it matters how young you are, so long as you can do the work." Liam

leaned forward, lowered his voice. "Here is the proposal. There's a mage living in Haven who owns a mageware

shop. He's human, like yourself. His name is Lemuel. You know him?"

Raistlin did in fact know Lemuel, having had dealings with him in the past. He considered Lemuel a friend,

hoped to find out what these unsavory elves wanted, with a view toward warning him.

Raistlin shrugged. "Whom I know is my own affair and none of yours."