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Silver Tongue and Golden Wit	By : Aroihkin Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 2364 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A/N (Aroihkin’s Notes) 12.10.05:
Thank you all for reviewing, by the way! Fanfic dot net has, like I mentioned earlier, banned doing “review replies” in chapters, and only replying to signed reviews in private squicks me.
I’ll think of something. In the meantime, have a chapter! (:D)
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Silver Tongue and Golden Wit
( three )

“Actually, I must admit that I’m curious, Mister Majere.” the elf continued as the Archmage finally went around his desk and eased himself into his chair, allowing the Staff of Magius to lean against a nearby book case.
“About?” Raistlin flicked his hood back off of his head entirely, and folded his hands on his desk, settling that eerie stare on the blond.
Tannusen simply smiled.
“Why you accepted? The Conclave hired me to help you with your... repression issues, but, you could have easily just not let me enter the Grove had you wished to decline.” came Tannusen’s forever-purring voice, and he tilted his head slightly to one side. “I was quite surprised when your letter and this stone--” the blond produced the rock in question from his pocket, “--appeared at my door.”
Raistlin said nothing for a moment, strange eyes narrowing slightly.
/ He’s not -really- trying to set me on fire with that glare, is he? I imagine he could do it if that’s what he was up to. / the blond’s easy smile didn’t waver as he gracefully sat down in the chair directly across from Majere and set the blue key stone on the desk between them.
The stare flickered once from Tannusen to the rock, and then back again.
“You’re trying to figure me out?” the blond mused out loud, “See if I’ll start rambling about trivial things like what I had for breakfast if you stare at me long enough?”
Raistlin blinked, but then continued the silent assault as if to call his bluff.
“Toast and tea, Mister Majere. It was delicious.” the elf beamed at him, sitting back in the chair and setting his arms on the rests, completely at ease here in the monster’s den. He crossed one leg over the other, idly flexing the suspended foot back and forth from inside the white leather of his boot. The effect was much like a cat’s tail, swishing from side to side
“Don’t be ridiculous.” the Mage finally sneered, tearing his eyes away from the slightly strange movement.
“No, truly, that’s what I had!”
“That,” Raistlin hissed, “is -not- what I meant. And you know it.” the long fingers, laced together on the polished wooden desk, tensed briefly. “They didn’t hire to you to... to ‘help’ me.”
“Of course not, Mister Majere.” Tannusen replied, patiently, “They want me to kill you, but I already told you that I’m not going to do that.”
“You plan to ‘help’ me instead, then?”
“That’s why I showed up...”
“And who is to pay you for your good deed, then, if not the Conclave?” Raistlin sneered, sitting back a bit further in his chair. “I surely won’t.”
“No, of course not.” Tannusen replied, sliding his foot back to the floor and lacing his own gloved fingers over his stomach as he stared steadily back at the Mage. “I told you, I don’t do this for a living.”
“You said that you are not a... whore.” the Archmage colored, just slightly across the cheekbones, and it was a miracle that the blond managed to keep from grinning outright at this development. Really, he’d gotten the man to blush, and he hadn’t even done anything yet!
“A whore is someone who gets paid for it, Mister Majere.” his purr was pitched just a fraction lower than usual. “I sell enough of myself without resorting to that.”
“So you...” Raistlin ground to a halt, and un-knit his hands just long enough to gesture vaguely at the seated blond in general.
“Will probably sleep with you?” Tannusen asked innocently.
“I...” the Archmage looked -distinctly- uncomfortable, all of a sudden. But still so very controlled about it. “That’s not--”
“It’s very likely.” the blond interrupted, “I’m certainly willing if it helps, but I refuse to rush into things like that, and...” he lowered his eyes to the desk, “well, I’m not sure you’d be interested anyway.”
Raistlin, to his credit, didn’t take the bait in either direction. Tannusen was a master at this art, however, and didn’t look up again until the Mage cleared his throat.
“And how do you suppose any of that would help.” Raistlin said. It was a question, but delivered in such a flat tone that it sounded like a statement. Tannusen quirked an eyebrow slightly at that, wondering at how much it bothered the Archmage to be exposed to even the -hint- of seduction. Tread carefully, indeed...
“If I simply explained it, Mister Majere, or even -could- explain it properly, it...” he shrugged just slightly, “it would make absolutely no sense to you. I suppose the only way to satisfy your curiosity it to simply let me help you... it isn’t like I could force you if you decided to stop treatment.”
“Hmm.”
“I’ll tell you the rules first, then, shall I?”
“The rules?” Raistlin sneered, again, and Tannusen simply smiled gently. If the legendary Mage would simply stop sneering, glowering, and glaring constantly, his mood probably wouldn’t be so rotten all the time.
“Yes, Mister Majere. The rules. You didn’t think I would inflict myself on you without some ground rules, did you?”
“...” the Mage simply stared.
“Well, I wouldn’t.” said the blond. “So here’s the first one. If at any time things are getting too personal too fast, you can tell me to slow down. And I will.”
“That’s it?” Raistlin unlaced his fingers, setting his hands palm-down on the desk as though about to stand up.
“There -is- a catch.” Tannusen interjected, and watched, calculating, as the golden eyes took on a distinct glint of triumph and the Mage settled back into his chair. But he continued before the other man could interrupt verbally, “It won’t seem like much of one just now, but later... it will. You can tell me to slow down, Mister Majere, but you cannot tell me to hurry up. Or rather, if you -do-, I’ll just ignore it.”
“No rushing.” said the Archmage after a scant moment’s thoughtful staring.
“That’s exactly right. You can slow me down, you can put a stop to the whole thing, but you won’t ever get me to rush through things... that’s simply not what I’m here for.”
“...Makes sense, I would suppose.”
“Good!” Tannusen beamed, “And that brings me right to rule number two. If you don’t understand why I’m doing something, you can ask.” he held up a hand to avoid being interrupted, “However, the rule in that is if you ask me, and I tell you, and you’re still confused... you have to cooperate so that you -do- get it. And if it still seems like rubbish to you after that, I’ll simply never try that method again.”
“What exactly are you going to be -doing- to me, Mr. Ashkeveron?”
“Comfort, remember? And I suppose trust, of a sort, but I know full well that has to be earned.” he shrugged, “And again, the way to get there is something you’ll just have to find out by trying it.”
“Hmm, continue.” Raistlin was frowning, just slightly, and the fingers of his right hand began tapping idly against the desk top. Nerves?
“That brings me along to questions about myself, Mister Majere. I take it to understand that you are a very curious individual who enjoys few things as much as unraveling another psyche and laying their secrets out in the air.” at the Mage’s blink of momentary surprise, he continued, “The Conclave did warn me about that, Mister Majere. I’m actually fairly open about most things, but even they realized that an assassin must keep secrets.”
“And so I am not to ask?” the Archmage sneered contemptuously, “I hardly--”
“That isn’t it at all.” Tannusen interjected, “Actually, I’m fairly certain that knowing how screwed up -I- am would help you to not feel so uneasy around me. Whereas most people would run screaming from the room if I told them what went on inside my head.” a soft, sad smile quirked at Tannusen’s lips. “But at the same time, this isn’t my therapy. And I won’t let it be about myself, even if you try to shift the focus.”
“And so?”
“And so in exchange for you not killing me and... how did I put it? Ah, yes, letting me ‘leave functioning at the same level physically, and mentally, that I am now’, I will truthfully answer any question pertaining to myself at the end of each session.”
He allowed that to take effect, watching the calculating gleam pass over the strange hourglass eyes. Predatory, even, was how you could describe that look. Information of any kind was definitely Raistlin Majere’s... weakness? Well, maybe less of that and more of ‘the best bait to use, ever’.
“The final rule is that the schedule, with the exception of tomorrow, is going to be set by you. A week at a time.”
“Mr. Tannusen.” the fingers stopped tapping, and Raistlin leaned forward a few inches, “I haven’t exactly accepted.”
“No, but, you haven’t exactly kicked me out yet, either. You might have to come to a decision at some point here, Mister Majere.” the blond smiled again, “In the meantime I will simply assume that my continued presence here means you have decided to give this a shot, if only for curiosity’s sake.”
“...Hmm.”
“Now as I was saying, the schedule needs to be done a week at a time. Simply whatever time you want me to show up, and for however long you wish me to stay. Although I will strongly advise against having me stay here overnight, as you are going to need your space.”
“You do not wish to stay in the Tower?” Majere blinked.
“If at some future point you wish me to sleep in the same room as yourself, then I will stay. However, I would very much prefer not to take up a spare room here when I am paying for a room at a perfectly good inn a mere quarter hour’s stroll away. Like I said, you will need your space.”
“Ah.” Raistlin looked slightly... confused? But it was quickly swept away behind that carefully sneering mask, and Tannusen didn’t comment on the minor slip. “And tomorrow?”
/ I have him thinking, that’s for certain. /
“I will come back here at noon, just like today, to find out your decision.”
“I see.” the Mage sat back, his eyes a little bit unfocussed. Had him thinking indeed, the Archmage was practically out of it for all of the information he was trying to process at speed. Tannusen smiled at that almost uncertain comment, and stood to collect the key stone from the desk. It was time to leave and let Raistlin think in peace.
“Well, you will.” he said, and bowed low again before showing himself out.
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Dragonlance © someone else.
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.
Never steal if you value your spleen.

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Silver Tongue and Golden Wit