know that Raistlin is going to be able to take care of himself, that he'll have some way to earn his living. I've

been thinking that if he could study to be a wizard, then I wouldn't have to worry."

"How old ... how old did you say this boy was?" Antimodes asked.

"Six," said Kitiara. "But ... what about his parents? Your parents? Surely they..."

He stopped because the young woman was no longer listening to him. She was wearing that look of extreme

patience young people put on when their elders are being particularly tedious and boring. Before Antimodes

could finish, she had twisted to her feet.

"I'll go find him. You should meet him."

"My dear ... " Antimodes started to protest. He had enjoyed his conversation with this interesting and

attractive young person, but the thought of entertaining a six-year-old was extremely unwelcome.

The girl ignored his protests. She was out the door of the inn before he could stop her. He saw her running

lightly down the stairs, rudely shoving or bumping into anyone who stood in her way.

Antimodes was in a quandary. He didn't want to have this child thrust upon him. Now that she was gone, he

didn't want to have anything more to do with the young woman. She had unsettled him, given him an uneasy

feeling, like the aftereffects of too much wine. It had been fine going down, but now he had a headache.

Antimodes called for his bill. He would beat a hasty retreat to his room, though he realized with annoyance

that he would be held a virtual prisoner there during the rest of his stay. Looking up, he saw the dwarf, whose

name he recalled wasFlint, looking back.

The dwarf had a smile on his face.

Most likelyFlintwas not thinking at all about Antimodes. The dwarf may have been smiling to himself over

the delicious meal he had just enjoyed, or he may have been smiling at the taste of the ale, or just smiling over

the pleasantness of the world

in general. But Antimodes, with his customary self-importance, decided thatFlintwas smirking at him and

the fact that he, a powerful wizard, was going to run away from two children.

Antimodes determined then and there that he would not give the dwarf any such satisfaction. The

archmage would not be driven out of this pleasant common room. He would remain, rid himself of the

girl, deal quickly with the child, and that would be an end of it.

"Perhaps you would care to join me, sir," Antimodes said to the d warf.

Flintglowered and flushed red and ducked his head into his ale. He muttered something about rather

having his beard boiled before he'd share a table with a wizard.

Antimodes smiled coldly to himself. Dwarves were notorious for their distrust and dislike of wielders

of magic. The archmage was now certain that the dwarf would leave him alone. Indeed,Flintquaffed his

ale in a hurry and, tossing a coin on the table, gave Antimodes a curt nod and stumped out of the inn.

And here, on the dwarf's heels, came the girl, hauling along not one child but two.

Antimodes sighed and ordered a glass of Otik's finest two-year old mead. He had a feeling he was

going to need something potent.

The encounter was likely to prove more unpleasant than Antimodes had feared. One of the boys, the one Antimodes

assumed was the elder, was an attractive child, or

would have been had he not been so extremely dirty. He was sturdily built, with thick arms and legs, had a

genial, open face and a gap-toothed smile, and he regarded Antimodes with friendly interest and curiosity, not in

the least intimidated by the well-dressed stranger.

"Hullo, sir. Are you a wizard? Kit says you're a wizard. Could you do some sort of trick? My twin can do

tricks. Would you like to see him? Raist, do the one where you take the coin out of your nose and-"

"Shut up, Caramon," said the other child in a soft voice, adding, with a frowning glance, "You're being

foolish."

The boy took this good-naturedly. He chuckled and shrugged, but he kept quiet. Antimodes was startled to

hear the two were twins. He examined the other boy, the one who did tricks. This child was not in the least

attractive, being thin as a wraith, grubby, and shabbily dressed, with bare legs and bare feet and the peculiar and

distasteful odor that only small and sweaty children emit. His brown hair was long, matted, and needed washing.

Antimodes regarded both children intently, and made a few deductions.