his pouches of spell components and hidden the scroll cases under the bed.

"At my age, you'd think I would know better," he said to himself sourly. "What a fool I made of myself. They must

have rolled their eyes and breathed sighs of relief when I left. It is a good thing Par-Salian doesn't know of this. I'm

thankful I never mentioned my intention of traveling to Solamnia to him."

"Greetings again, Archmagus," said a child's voice.

Antimodes blinked, returned to the present. Raistlin had entered the room. The archmage had been looking

forward to this meeting. He had taken a keen interest in the boy since the first time they'd met. The conversations

with the other children had been merely a ruse, contrived in order to have the chance to talk privately with this one

extraordinary child. But his recent discoveries had so devastated Antimodes that he found no pleasure in talking

with the one student who showed any aptitude at all for magic.

What future lay ahead for this boy? A future in which wizards were stoned to death? At least, Antimodes thought

bitterly, the populace had feared Esmilla, the black-robed wizardess, and fear implies a certain amount of respect.

How much worse if they had merely laughed at her! But wasn't that where they were heading? Would magic end up

in the hands of disappointed butchers?

Raistlin coughed slightly and shifted nervously on his feet. Antimodes realized that he'd been staring at the child

in silence, long enough to make Raistlin feel uncomfortable.

"Forgive me, Raistlin," Antimodes said, motioning the boy to come forward. "I have traveled far and I am weary.

And my trip was not entirely satisfactory."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Raistlin said, regarding Antimodes with those blue eyes that were much too old and

wise.

"And I am sorry that I praised your work in the schoolroom." Antimodes smiled ruefully. "I should have known

better."

"Why, sir?" Raistlin was puzzled. "Wasn't it good, as you said?"

"Well, yes, but your classmates ... I should not have singled you out. I know boys your age, you see. I was a bit of

a rascal

myself, I'm sorry to say. I'm afraid they'll be hard on you."

Raistlin shrugged his thin shoulders. "They're ignorant."

"Ahem. Well, now." Antimodes frowned, disapproving. It was all very proper for him, an adult, to think this, but it

seemed wrong in the child to say it. Disloyal.

"They can't rise to my level," Raistlin continued, "and so they want to drag me down to theirs. Sometimes"-the blue

eyes staring at Antimodes were as clear and brilliant as glare ice"they hurt me."

"I ... I'm sorry," Antimodes said, a lame statement, but then he was so completely taken aback by this child, by his

coolness and astute observations, that he could think of nothing more intelligent.

"Don't be sorry for me!" Raistlin flared, and there was the flash of fire on the ice . "I don't mind," he added more

calmly and shrugged again. "It's a compliment, really. They're afraid of me."

The populace had feared Esmilla, the black-robed wizardess, and fear implies a certain amount of respect. How

much worse if they had merely laughed at her! Antimodes recalled his own thoughts. Hearing them repeated in this

childish treble sent a shiver up his spine. A child should not be this wise, should not be forced to bear the burden of

such cynical wisdom this young.

Raistlin smiled then, an ingenuous smile. "It's a hammer blow. I think about what you told me, sir. How the

hammer blows forge the soul. And the water cools them. Except I don'tcry.Or if I do," he added, his voice hardening,

"it's when they can't see me."

Antimodes stared, amazed and confused. Part of him wanted to hug close this precocious child, while another part

warned him to snatch the child up and toss him into the fire, crush him as one crushes the egg of a viper. This

dichotomy of emotion so unsettled him that he was forced to rise to his feet and take a turn about the room before he

felt capable of continuing the conversation.

Raistlin stood silently, waiting patiently for the adult to finish indulging himself in the strange and inexplicable

behavior adults often exhibite d. The boy's gaze left Antimodes and strayed to the book shelves, where the gaze

focused and sharpened with a hungry edge.

That reminded Antimodes of something he'd meant to tell the boy and had, in the ensuing disturbing