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Dissolution	By : sinaline Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1659 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three

Dalamar showed Lady Talvines around the next morning. She seemed interested enough but asked some rather interesting questions. After awhile, when a spectre appeared, she recoiled from it. Dalamar reassured her, "Do not worry, as a guest they will not harm you."
He then turned irately to the spectre, "What do you want?"
"The Master is awake," it answered. "As instructed, I have come to tell you when he awoke."
"Very well," sighed Dalamar as it disappeared again, and he turned to Marinda. "Your nephew is awake, my lady. I should see to him so that he is in the best possible condition to meet with you.”
“Oh, nonsense!” she chided him and then with a small imperious wave of her hand. “Lead me to my nephew. I mean no offense but you are not family and I am by far not embarrassed to see him the way he is. I came because I heard he was ill, or injured... and to visit his bedside. His ‘best’ I am certainly not expecting at all.”
Dalamar inclined his head and said, “This way, then. But be warned, he is not expecting you and my Shalafi has never accepted visitors before and I am not sure how exactly he will take this...”
She simply accepted this as he led her down the stairs to the entrance to his Shalafi’s study. Pushing open the door and stepping aside for her as she entered the opulent room, he watched for signs of Raistlin. Seeing none he figured that Raistlin must have been still in his room. He walked to the other door to the sleeping chamber and knocked upon it. A soft voice answered, “Dalamar? Is that you?”
“Yes, Shalafi– Raistlin, it is,” answered Dalamar as he opened the door a crack to peer inside.
Raistlin sat on the edge of his bed, still in his sleeping clothes, looking around in vague confusion. Dalamar opened the door the rest of the way and asked, “How are you feeling this morning, Raistlin?”
“Better, I think,” answered Raistlin. “But I still have no recollection of who I am other than what you’ve told me...”
Dalamar sighed, but before he could announce her, Marinda Talvines barged in by pushing him out the way and into the wall inside the room. Once she stood in there, she looked on her nephew and he looked back in confusion. “Do I... know you?” he asked noting the look of recognition on her face. “Should... I know... you?”
She made a faint clicking noise using her tongue before sweeping to the side of the bed and sitting upon it beside him, draping one arm around his thin shoulders and her other hand patted his. “Now... don’t you worry about it one bit, my poor, poor dear...” she soothed. “I’m sure that between the two of us...” she glanced at Dalamar pointedly who had the grace to look somewhat confused himself... “we can help jog your memory. That’s what family is for!”
Raistlin blinked in confusion, “Family? Who are you? You must forgive me but...”
“...Oh...” she sighed patting his hand once more. “Don’t worry about a thing, pet. Dalamar explained it all to me last night when I arrived. But, as you said, you don’t know me. Oh, my poor dear... forgive my manners. I was just so excited to finally meet you... my name is Lady Marinda Talvines. I am your mother’s younger sister. I was so grieved when she left Palanthas... but that is neither here nor there, and all that matters is that I’m here at Rosie’s son’s side to help him heal.”
Raistlin looked from Dalamar to Marinda then back to Dalamar again, “You’re my aunt? We’re family?”
“Oh yes...” she said. “Rosamun, once you get that memory back, was your mother. She fell in love with a... well... I guess he was rather dashing... a former Knight of Solamnia. He bore her away in the middle of the night. We never did find out what happened until long after sweet Rosie’s death... Mother and Father did not want me to search for you but I did anyway. After my hired tracker picked up Gregor Uth Matar’s trail, it was only a matter of time before he found Solace, a village in the trees...”
“...Solace...” Raistlin said as if tasting the name. “...Home...”
“...Er... I suppose it would be for you but your mother was a Palanthian Lady of noble birth,” explained Marinda. “And I am not surprised in the least that her son lives and carries himself with the bearing of a noble lord. I see so much of your mother in you... you look... so much like her in your frame and shape of your face. So much of the Talvines blood is in your veins that I can see it when you move.”
She patted his hand again, “You, my dear, come from a very high born family and should be cared for as such. That is why I came.”
Raistlin stared at her with wide eyes, then allowed himself to be drawn into her embrace as she stroked his white hair. “Aunt Marinda...”
“Don’t worry about a thing, pet, Auntie Mari will make it all better,” she cooed softly into his hair so that only he could hear.
Inwardly, Ladonna gloated. It had been so easy to insinuate herself in and neither of them suspected a thing. Dalamar excused himself, likely embarrassed by the family bonding.
Ladonna smiled as he left and continued to stroke Raistlin’s hair. He had relaxed significantly and she highly suspected he was sleeping in her arms. A quick glance down confirmed her suspicions. A momentary maternal instinct kicked in that even she had a difficult time dispelling. He’s so needy, she mused. I could have told him the truth but still been supportive and mothering and he would have melted into my arms the same way...
It made her wonder what the difference was between what she was doing and what Caramon had done. Oh wait, she knew. She was there when he needed it and left him alone when he needed it. She alone more than anyone understood what he went through for his magic. Ladonna inwardly smacked herself. What are you doing, you silly old woman? Keep to the plan and don’t let yourself get attached. Let him get attached to you and he’ll bend to your will to receive more...
A part of her clenched, the part that felt she had missed something without any children of her own. Granted, he was not hers but as part of the ‘Marinda Talvines’ false identity he was very close without his actual mother being there. And from what she understood he did not really have a stable maternal figure to identify with. There was only Kitiara, and what a joke in maternal roles she was, or Rosamun. And Rosamun had always been trapped in her visions to actually give Raistlin anything... or any of them anything actually. Ladonna’s eyes thinned. She could be what he needed. She could mold him. There was little chance of his memory ever coming back and what more could she ask for than a son who was her equal in the magic? A cold grin spread across her face as she laid him down in his bed. “Ah... Raistlin... in more ways than one you have been the answer to my prayers...” she murmured as she pulled the blankets up around him to tuck them around his shoulders.

In truth, Dalamar had not left the room out of embarrassment or to give them a ‘moment’. He had retreated to figure out how to go from here. Lady Talvines had taken over so smoothly and so quickly that there had been no time for him to even object. And Raistlin had even let her!
Then again, she had not given Raistlin any time to object before launching into ‘oh my poor dear’ and ‘my pet’. Raistlin had been ambushed by the woman and drawn into her embrace so quickly that Dalamar rather suspected that he had not realized what was happening until it was too late. But, even still, she was his Aunt and he was her nephew. It was family business...
The delicate chiming of bells signaled that they had another visitor and a spectre appeared in the study, “There is another at our gates claiming relation to the Master.”
“Who is it this time?” asked Dalamar irately.
“The Blue Lady, the Dragon Highlord Kitiara Uth Matar,” explained the spectre. “She claims that she is his half sister...”
Dalamar spoke words of magic and reappeared in the gardens where they grew their spell components. On the other side of the gate where ‘guests’ could stand without fear of retribution from the guardians in the grove or the spectres on the other side of the gate, stood a woman in blue dragon armor. She held her dragon helm to one side, and held on hand easily on the hilt of her sword. She had short curly black hair, tan skin, and a trim and lithe body. She held herself with an easy assurance that Dalamar was only familiar in seeing on men, but still seemed feminine at once. She was intoxicating.
She was also very angry indeed.
“I demand you let me in to see my little brother!” she yelled at Dalamar as soon as he materialized in the garden.
“How do I know you’re who you claim to be?” he asked, undaunted.
“Because Raist gave me this!” she held up the nightjewel, an item that would let those Raistlin invited in pass through the Shoikan Grove unharmed.
Dalamar gestured and the locks on the gate released. She pushed herself through them to slam them shut with a clang as she stalked to stand in front of him barely two inches away. Crossing her arms and holding her helm so that the spikes on it dug into him as she held it by the straps, she said, “Now... where is he?”
“Just so we make ourselves clear,” he began, speaking evenly. “I am not to be intimidated. Unlike you, I can call on the spectres to throw you out or to kill you. Just so we are clear... so, if you would please, remove your helmet from poking holes in my chest!”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but the helmet was removed and he was rewarded with a crooked smile. “My, aren’t we a little spitfire?” she said, marginally friendlier. This tone Dalamar was familiar with as Raistlin often used it when he was trying to be civil but not quite succeeding. “Now... my brother?”
“Is with your aunt,” he answered evenly and was regarded with surprise as the smile disappeared off her face.
“Our what?” her tone was flat.
“Your aunt... Lady Marinda Talvines,” he answered. “Lady Rosamun’s younger sister...”
Her eyebrows lifted in shock, “Mother had a younger sister...?”
“You didn’t know?” asked Dalamar, suddenly suspicious.
“No. I did not know about it, and I suspect neither does Raistlin,” she said. “Nor Caramon. Those buffleheaded fools! Take me now! She’s likely a charlatan!”
As he led her up the stairs to Raistlin’s study he had a momentary thought that, if not for the resemblance, Kitiara could have been the charlatan and not the other way around. Opening the door for Kitiara and moving aside as he didn’t want to be pushed into yet another wall, he allowed her to precede him into the study. Her eyes fell on the door and she walked up to it. He watched her pause, her fingers mere inches from the doorknob. “Dalamar?” she asked. “If this woman isn’t a charlatan... this will change things for my entire family.”
“I know,” he said.
In truth, given Raistlin’s condition, everything had changed anyway. She pushed open the door and for the first time since he had met her, she moved quietly and calmly, almost pensively into the room. He heard the small gasp of surprise, and the mild curse, from Kitiara and a murmured, “Good heavens!” from Marinda.
He walked in and introduced them, “Lady Talvines, this is Highlord Uth Matar, Raistlin’s elder sister.”
“Oh my,” said Talvines. “My dear girl... you look... so much like your father.”
“Thank you,” came a mildly stunned Kitiara. “My dear Aunt... you look... so much like our mother...”
Dalamar lifted his brows. Hearing that from both women confirmed that there was a family resemblance between Raistlin’s mother and this Lady Talvines. A niggling suspicion still rode in his mind, but he allowed himself to momentarily believe that there was two close family members of his Shalafi in one room.
Speaking of his Shalafi... he looked like he had fallen asleep. “Excuse me,” suggested Dalamar softly. “Perhaps we can take this in his study and let him rest?”
Lady Talvines stood up and gracefully preceded them out into the study, immediately taking a plush chair by the fire. Kitiara leaned against his Shalafi’s desk and Dalamar closed the door to the sleeping chamber, but still stood in front of the door. He looked from Kitiara Uth Matar, Raistlin’s elder half-sister, and Lady Talvines, Raistlin’s Aunt. He finally sighed and said, “I must admit, I am curious to how both of you heard about his... unfortunate accident so quickly. And quickly enough to arrive within a day of each other.”
Kitiara waved it off as unimportant, “He’s the bloody tower wizard. When something happens, people talk.”
“Ah...” Lady Talvines eyes glinted. “But I believe that Dalamar is alluding to the fact that what people talked? How would they find out? I heard from a healer in town. He had heard a rumor that a ‘Dark Elf wizard’ had been asking around about head injuries. I knew of only one Dark Elf wizard in town, and only one other person having anything to do with them. I think he is wondering how you came by your knowledge.”
“Probably by the same way your healer friend did,” snorted Kitiara. “Only this one put two and two together that it had to be Raistlin, and who I was. Or in the very least, as a Highlord and current leader of the Dragonarmies, that I would be interested in the Master of Past and Present being injured and weakened. He didn’t expect that I might actually be concerned– nor that he was my youngest brother.”
Dalamar looked from one to the other. Both of their stories made sense as he had asked around. He sighed, realizing, once Raistlin regained his memory, that he would be blamed for the attention being brought upon his Shalafi. And he would be very correct.
Ladonna, inwardly swore.
She had completely forgotten about Caramon.

A few years before, Raistlin had left him behind. A year after that, he had been a drunk who couldn’t hold down a job, and was the shame, and talk, of Solace. But... Tika told him that she had missed a monthly. That had been over three months ago.
Unfortunately, a little under three weeks ago, he had taken her in a hurried worry to a healer and there discovered that she had lost the little one.
Caramon blamed himself, blamed his drinking... and swore to never touch a drop again.
Unlike other times, much to everyone’s joy, this time he had held to that and worked as a wood-cutter like his father before him. It was a simple joy that he thoroughly enjoyed. He had held down the job long enough to be paid once and handed over the steel straight to Tika. Tika had smiled, hugged him, and welcomed him back.
He still thought of his brother sometimes, but, with a sigh, he finally took what one person had told him seriously. They were two different people. Two separate lives. Raistlin had shown that he could take care of himself and so, really, didn’t need Caramon anymore. Maybe hadn’t for a very long time. Caramon let the axe fall on another block of wood, setting another block after the one was split, looking up at the pile underneath the tree trunk that held their home far above.
With a sigh he set about his work again as Tika walked up beside him. She was still pale after losing the baby and occasionally still cried at night while in his arms over it. She even blamed herself. Caramon didn’t blame her. He blamed himself and the drinking that had perhaps stressed her, yes, but never Tika. It just had not been meant to be. When it was time for them to have children they would. Until then he wouldn’t worry about it.
She laid a hand on his arm when he set the axe down, wiping his brow as he did so. “You’ve been at this all day,” she said.
He shrugged. “Winter is coming soon and I want to make sure we have plenty,” he answered. “How are you feeling?”
She looked down and he held up her chin a few seconds later. “How can you look at me?” she asked quietly.
“Stop it, Tika,” he said sharply, surprising himself. “I don’t blame you. It just wasn’t meant to be. And you shouldn’t blame yourself either. If I hadn’t been such an idiot, I never would have had you so stressed out. The question should be how you can bear to look at me, even let me share your bed after all I’ve done to you...”
She hugged him suddenly then, crushing his ribs in the force of her hug. He returned it with a deep sigh.
A moment later the seriousness of the situation was blown by his stomach growling rather insistently. She laughed then and to him the sound was as beautiful as bells. It had been a few years... was it years?... since he had last heard that sound. It had been too long anyway. He found himself smiling and laughing too. A moment later, once they regained themselves, she said, “Come on, I guess I should feed you.”
He followed her up to the walkways and into their home, sitting at the table. A moment later, while she was still cooking, she looked out the window as they heard a ruckus outside. “Dear... I think Jon is running to see you...”
“Jon...?”
“Farnish.”
“Oh, him,” said Caramon flatly. “Why?”
“I dunno,” she said, as a few seconds a pounding at their door was heard. “Maybe you ask him.”
Caramon groaned but got up and answered the door. He looked down at the man with a sigh, “What?”
“Oh... good, you’re home,” he panted, out of breath. “Have you heard the rumor?”
“No,” answered Caramon. “I have work... you know... real work.”
“Caramon!” came Tika’s harsh cry. “I’m sure the deputy sheriff would like to come in and tell us this rumor.”
Caramon shrugged non-committally but moved out of the way, a cold way of inviting the unwanted visitor in. Farnish walked in and said, “As you know, I’m still associated with the Tower of High Sorcery as a White Robe...”
With only a lift of one eyebrow as encouragement from Caramon, he continued, “Well, I heard an interesting rumor. Now, it could be only a rumor, mind you...”
“Which is?” asked Caramon, mildly impatiently.
“That your brother has hurt himself bad,” said Farnish. “And I mean real bad. Rumor has it that he lost all memory of who he is, what he is, and where he is. He’s being taken care of by his apprentice for now, but he may make his way here. Now... if you want... he is still considered a renegade, and a dangerous one... we can take him into custody if you don’t feel up to handling him if he shows up.”
Caramon had sat down heavily in one of their chairs and Tika stared hard out the kitchen
window. Neither spoke and the strain suddenly in the air was palpable. “I think you should leave,” came her quiet voice.
“But Madam Majere...” started Farnish.
“Now,” finished Caramon for her.
“If that’s what you want...” Farnish was clearly confused, but left. Before he did, he turned and said, “If you make up your mind, you know where to find me.”
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Dissolution