"Don't harm her, Raist," Caramon was saying. His voice came out a croak, his throat was raw from weeping.

"Don't prove her right!"

The widow, white-faced and blenching, had backed up against a tree. She glanced about at her neighbors.

"You saw, good people of Solace! He tried to kill me. He's a fiend in human clothing, I tell you! Send this

mother and her demon spawn away! Cast them out of Solace! Show Belzor that you will not tolerate such evil!"

The crowd was silent, their faces dark and impassive. Moving slowly, they came together to form a circle-a

protective circle with the Majere family in the center. Rosamun crouched on the ground, her head bowed.

Raistlin and Caramon stood close together, near their mother. Although Kitiara was not there she had not been

with the family in years-her spirit had been invoked, and she was also present, if only in the minds of her siblings.

Gilon lay dead in the wagon, his body covered by a blanket. His blood was starting to seep through the

wool. The Widow Judith stood outside the circle, and still no one spoke.

A man shoved his way through from the back of the crowd. Raistlin had only an indistinct impression of him;

the still-smoldering fire within clouded his vision. But he would remember him as tall, clean-shaven, with long

hair that covered his ears, fell to his shoulders.He was clad in leather, trimmed with fringe, and wore a bow over

one shoulder.

He walked up to the widow.

"I think you are the one who had better leave Solace," he said. His voice was quiet, he wasn't threatening her,

merely stating a fact.

The widow scowled at him and flashed a glance around at the people in the crowd behind him. "Are you going

to let this half-breed talk to me like this?" she demanded.

"Tanis is right," said Otik, waddling forward to lend his support. He waved a pudgy hand, in which he still

held his brandy jug. "You just go along back to Haven, my good woman. And take Belzor with you. He's not

needed around here.We care for our own."

"Take your mother home, lads," said the dwarf. "Don't fret about your pa. We'll see to the burial. You'll want

to be there, of course. We'll let you know when it's time."

Raistlin nodded, unable to speak. He bent down, grasped hold of his mother. She was limp in his hands, limp

and shredded, like a rag doll that has been worried and torn by savage dogs. She gazed about her with a vacuous

expression that Raistlin remembered well; his heart shriveled within him.

"Mother," he said in a choked voice. "We're going to go home now."

Rosamun did not respond. She did not seem to have heard him. She sagged, dead weight, in his arms.

"Caramon?" Raistlin looked to his brother. Caramon nodded, his eyes filled with tears. Between

them, they carried their mother home.

The following morning, Gilon Majere was buried beneath the vallenwoods, a seedling planted on his grave as

was customary among the inhabitants of Solace. His sons

came to the ceremony. His wife did not.

"She's sleeping," said Caramon with a blush for his lie. "We didn't want to wake her."

The truth was, they couldn't wake her.

By afternoon, everyone in Solace knew that Rosamun Majere had fallen into one of her trances. She had fallen

deep this time, so deep that she could hear no voice -however loved-that called to her.

The neighbors came, offering condolences and suggestions to aid in her recovery, some of which-the use of spirits

of hartshorn, for instance, which she was to inhale-Raistlin tried. Others, such as jabbing her repeatedly with a pin,

he did not.

At least not at first. Not before the terrible fear set in.

The neighbors brought food to tempt her appetite, for the word spread among their friends that Rosamun would

not eat. Otik himself brought an immense basket of delicacies from the Inn of the Last Home, including a steaming

pot of his famous spiced potatoes, Otik being firm in the belief that no living being and very few of the unliving could

hold out long against that wonderful garlic-scented aroma.

Caramon took the food with a wan smile and a quiet thank you. He did not let Otik into the house but stood

blocking the door with his big body.

"Is she any better?" Otik asked, craning to see over Caramon's shoulder.