Red on Red

BY : Silviana_of_Qualinost
Category: A through F > Dragonlance
Dragon prints: 3480
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonlance or any of the characters. DL belongs to Wizards of the Coast and Weis and Hickman. No money is made from these installments.


This picks up exactly where Brothers in Arms had ended, so the first few sentences are not mine but directly from the book. Also, in this fic it is assumed that Antimodes personally delivered Raistlin's message to Par-Salian, as opposed to just forwarding it.










“Immolatus,” said Par- Salian and he sighed and shuddered. “So it has started. Thus we begin the long journey into darkness.”


He looked back at the letter written in that quick, nervous, bold, and hungry hand, signed at the bottom.


Raistlin Majere, Magus.


Par-Salian picked up the letter. Speaking a word of magic, he caused it to be consumed by fire.


“At least,” he said, “we do not walk alone.”


Having disposed of the missive he rang a bell that summoned an apprentice and asked for Antimodes to be called back into his presence. The other white-robe was quick to arrive, having been lurking in adjoining rooms waiting for a chance to inquire about his protege's letter.


“What are the odds of you telling me what that young man has written?” Antimodes grinned in what he hoped was an endearing fashion.


Par- Salian gave him his own wry smile.


“Not a chance,” he said and added, “I will however impart to you what I intend to do now.”


“Oh?” Antimodes raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Par-Salian telling him his intentions was paramount to Par-Salian telling him absolutely nothing. Only more questions will arise.


“You, friend will pay a visit to Majere in Langtree,” Par-Salian was taping his fingers distractedly on his desk. “That way I can put you to use to see what rumors are floating around that barony. I would like more perspectives on this battle at Hope's End.”


“And what else?”


“You will take someone with you. I will give her a letter of recommendation to Horkin. And a letter of recommendation to Majere. I think she will need the latter most. By my orders she shall be attached to him for some time.”


Antimodes frowned deeply.


“Why is this necessary? Seems to me it will serve only to aggravate the young mage. He will surely think that you intend to spy on him.”


“Not spy,” Par- Salian retorted. “Simply keep at eye on his progress and perchance do something to ease his physical maladies. I know nothing can be done permanently for what ails him. But I have enough faith in this pupil's healing abilities to believe she may be at least of temporary assistance.”


“One of your apprentices then?” Antimodes disapproved visibly, shaking his head. “All the more reason he should be suspicious.”


“I think not,” Par- Salian mused thoughtfully, “Silviana is ... special, Solinari bless her. Oh, intelligent certainly. Simply oblivious in such an innocent way that it would be impossible to suspect anything of her. A fact which I hope to use to our advantage.”


Your advantage you mean, Antimodes thought bitterly, still thinking this a foolish mission. There were other, more secretive ways of keeping an eye on a mage, as Antimodes himself well knew.


“I would like to meet this... oblivious lady,” he said giving up all hope that his friend would reconsider.


“Oh you will, friend,” Par- Salian reached for a summoning bell once more.



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