for a week. They don't want you around; they've made that plain enough. You upset their lives and they upset

yours. The best thing for you to do is wash the mud of Qualinesti off your boots and never go back."

"You're right, of course," said Tanis reflectively. "And every time I leave, I swear I will never return. But

something draws me back. When I hear the music of the aspen trees in my dreams, I know it is time for me to

return home. And Qualinesti is my home. They can't deny it to me, no matter how they'd like to try."

"Bah! That's the elf in you!" Flint scoffed. " 'Music of the aspen trees!' Horse droppings! I haven't been home

in one hundred years. You don't hear me carrying on about the music of the walnuts, do you?"

"No, but I have heard you express a longing for proper dwarf spirits," Tanis teased.

"That's completely different," Flint returned sagaciously. "We're talking life's blood here. I do wonder that

Otik can't seem to get the recipe right. I've given it to him often enough. It's these local mushrooms, or what

humans think pass for mushrooms."

Despite Flint's urgings, Tanis left that fall for Qualinesti. He was gone during Yule. The heavy snows set in,

and it began to look as if he wouldn't be back before spring.

Flint had always been a bit lonely when Tanis was gone, though the dwarf would have cut off his beard

before he admitted it. The inadvertent addition of Tasslehoff eased the dwarf's loneliness some, though Flint

would have cut off his head before he admitted that. The kender's lively chatter filled in the silence, though

the dwarf always irritably put a stop to it when he found himself becoming too interested.

Teaching the young humans how to handle themselves in a fight gave Flint a true feeling of

accomplishment. He showed them the little tricks and skillful maneuvers he had learned from

a lifetime of encounters with ogres and goblins, thieves and footpads, and other hazards faced by those who

travel the unchancy roads of Abanasinia. He likened this feeling of satisfaction to that of turning out an

exceptional piece of metalwork.

In essence, he was doing much the same: shaping and crafting young lives as he shaped and crafted his metal.

One of them, however, was not particularly malleable.

Raistlin continued to "shiver" Flint's skin.

The twins were nineteen that winter, and they were spending the winter together.

Early in the fall, a fire had burned down Master Theobald's mage school, forcing him to relocate. By this time,

Theobald was well known and trusted in Solace. The authorities -once assured that the fire had been from natural

causes and not supernatural-gave him permission to open his new school within the town limits.

Raistlin no longer needed to board at the school. He could spend the winters at home with Caramon. But

neither he nor Caramon were home much of the time.

Raistlin enjoyed the company of the dwarf and the kender. He required knowledge of the world beyond the

vallenwoods, knowledge of a world in which he would soon be taking his place. Since acquiring the ability to

cast his magic, he had dared to dream of his future.

Raistlin was now an assistant teacher at the school. Master Theobald hoped that by providing some honorable

way for the young man to earn money, Raistlin would quit performing in public. Raistlin was not a particularly

good teacher; he had no patience for ignorance and tended to be extremely sarcastic. But he kept the boys quiet

during Master Theobald's afternoon nap, which was all the master required. Master Theobald had once

mentioned that Raistlin might like to open a mage school himself. Raistlin had laughed in the master's face.

Raistlin wanted power. Not power over a bunch of mewling brats, dully reciting their aas and ais. He wanted

the power he held over people when they watched him cast even minor cantrips. Their expressions of awe, their

wide-eyed respect were deeply gratifying. He saw himself gaining increasing power over others.

Power for good, of course.

He would give money to the impoverished, health to the sickly, justice to evildoers. He would be loved,

admired, feared, and envied. If he was going to hold sway over vast numbers of

people (such are the ambitious dreams of youth!), he would need to know as much as possible about those people -all

of them, not just humans. The dwarf and the kender proved to be excellent character studies.

The first thing Raistlin learned was that a kender's fingers are into everything, and a kender's hands will carry it

off. He had been enraged the first time Tasslehoff appropriated the small bag in which the young mage proudly kept

his one and only spell component.