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Red on Red	By : Sylviana_of_Qualinost Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 4499 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 3:

Uneasy Acquaintances and Resolutions

Mart dropped Silviana off at the entrance to the mess hall and looked at her imploringly, waiting to be relieved of his duty as escort and to go inside to his dinner. Silviana hesitated and looked inside the big room seeing a couple hundred men sitting around, eating heartily and laughing loud. She felt her face begin to heat up at the prospect of entering the room and grew suddenly fidgety.
“Ummm... I am looking for uh, Majere?” Silviana worked hard to pronounce the name, uncertain of herself. “Do you know which one he is?”
Mart smirked at her knowingly and pointed a finger at a man who was undoubtedly the biggest in the room.
“That one there is the guy you wanna see.”
Having done his due, the soldier slipped inside the hall and hurried to join his companions.
Silviana studied the big warrior from where she stood, as of yet unobserved by the soldiers, in the shade of the door frame. Certainly, this man did not look in need of any healing. Nor did he look much like a magic-user. Still, neither did Horkin, so looks were likely deceiving. Anyhow, Par-Salian told her to come and that was that. Making up her mind, Silviana pulled the hood of her cloak further over her face to hide the embarrassed flush of her cheeks and strode into the mess hall.
She felt more than saw the interested gazes immediately directed her way but ignored them, gliding with purpose towards the big man who was still oblivious to her presence. He continued to stuff his face violently whilst attempting to recite some tale to an interested looking young man with carrot-orange hair.
“So then they had me stand in the middle of the forest at night time with this bag,” Caramon was saying, his mouth full of pig roast, “calling 'come here for a treat snipe!' over and over until finally I saw it!”
“And did you get the snipe?” Scrounger's eyes were wide with excitement.
“I got something that's for sure!” Caramon finished delightedly. “But it wasn't a snipe! You see, they all tricked me! There was no snipe! What I got in my bag at the end of the night was a kender!”
Everyone at the table laughed indulgently, none louder then the big warrior himself.
Silviana politely waited for the laughter to subside before clearing her throat. The big man started and looked over at the elf-woman. At once Caramon was on his feet taking a formal bow, knowing somehow he was in the presence of a high ranking lady and not a barmaid.
“No, no I beg of you don't ...do that!” Silviana protested and Caramon rose up from his bow. “I assure you I am nothing to make a big deal of.”
Her voice however, stated otherwise, the slight drawl and lisp of Qualinesti elvish richly accenting her Common. This immediately caught the attention of the red head, who, Silviana thought in alarm, resembled a kender frightfully.
“Say, you are an elven lady aren't you?” the half-kender asked gleefully. “Oh, I have never seen an elven lady before! I wonder what brings you here!”
“Well um, in fact, I am looking for someone,” Silviana spoke quickly, wanting to be out of this mess hall as soon as possible, now that she found herself the center of attention, everyone having gone completely quiet to listen in on their conversation.
“Perhaps we can help you, lady...?” Caramon looked at her waiting for her to fill him in as to her name.
The elf woman hesitated at first but then decided it was best to introduce herself.
“Lady Silviana of Qualinesti,” She took a slight bow of her own and pulled back her hood to reveal her face to the men at the tables.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the collective gathering. Scrounger wasn't the only one in that hall who has never seen an elven lady before and the sight was quite astounding to the assembled humans. Drawing courage from their awed silence, Silviana straightened her back proudly and continued her inquiry.
“The one I look for goes by the name Majere. Raistlin Majere.” All at once the hum of voices rose all around, distilling the awe-filled silence of only a moment ago. Silviana felt herself go red again.
“Raist?!” The big man said in shock. “Why, of course I can help you find him. I am his brother, Caramon. Raistlin is my twin in fact!” Caramon puffed out his chest in pride at the association. “Raistlin was just here somewhere, he has this way of blending into the shadows.” Caramon turned his head this way and that, shaking out his curly brown hair in the process.
“RAIST! RAISTLIN!”He hollered at the top of his lungs.
“No need to shout, my brother, I am here,” came a soft, whispering voice from somewhere behind Silviana, making her start and jump around to face the source.
The mage in fact had been there all along, blending into the shadows, as Caramon had said. He had noted Silviana linger in the door way and observed her as she made her way into the mess hall. He watched with barely concealed awe as she shed her hood and bared her face to the crowd. An elven face in the bloom of youth, not ravaged by the passage of time captured in Raistlin' golden eyes. He beheld her now, flustered and nervous looking at him.
Whatever Silviana was prepared for, Raistlin wasn't it. Par-Salian an Antimodes had kept her conveniently in the dark regarding Raistlin's malady or appearance. As such, she was dumbstruck by the slender mage, whose golden-tinged skin and white hair were unlike any she had ever seen. What's more, she felt the whirls of magic emanating from his thin body and found herself basking in its warmth as she would bask in the rays of the sun. She felt no aversion to his appearance, only shock and a deep curiosity.
Raistlin himself was caught of guard and cursed himself for not noticing the obvious from his first glimpse of Silviana. Although the elf-woman was not dressed in robes but in travel attire her strong magical aura was easily detectable to Raistlin. As was the red badge she wore on her breast and which signified her alliance.
“You are a mage?” His eyes bore into her, not needing the answer, knowing it already. “A red-robe, at that. Unusual for an elf, is that not? Or do I not know enough about the customs of the elves?”
Silviana recovered from her initial shock of meeting Raistlin and composed herself to answer his question. She recalled Par-Salian hinting that this man would be difficult and resolved to not shirk from his interrogation.
“I am a follower of Lunitari like yourself,” She inclined her head in what she hoped was a graceful movement, “and you are correct in saying that this is uncommon among my kind. The elves as a rule follow Solinari, but I found the red goddess spoke stronger to my heart.”
Raistlin nodded thoughtfully but seemed pleased with her response. Silviana allowed herself to relax, feeling as though she has secured at least one victory.
The mage's slender fingers shifted their hold on a staff he held as he observed her, ponderously stroking the wood.
“And you come to seek me? Not of your own accord I gather,” he squinted at her. “From the Tower then?”
“Yes, I was sent by Par-Salian to...”she suddenly remembered to proceed with caution, Horkin's words about Raistlin's “touchiness” about his condition coming to mind. “Well, perhaps we can speak in private as to why I was sent?” She finished lamely and at once knew she had said the wrong thing. The men in the hall, all listening intently, howled in laughter. Silviana looked around her incredulously, not knowing what she had said wrong.
“Be careful Lady Silviana,” Raistlin's eyes flickered in amusement, “you are in a place of crude individuals. I am afraid you have given them the wrong impression – an impression you surely don't want to give in relation to myself.”
Silviana was quick to notice a note of self-deprecation enter that whispering voice and decided that she would file that away to ponder for later.
“Anyhow, I do think that Tower business amongst mages should be discussed away from the unenlightened. Follow me.” And with that his back was to her, as he walked away back towards the entrance to the hall. Silviana rushed after him, eager to be out of this crowded place, feeling as though whatever ground she had gained with her opening statement she had subsequently lost. I am always making a fool of myself, she thought bitterly as she followed the red-robed mage out into the hall.
“Raist?” Caramon's voice came bellowing after them from the hall, “should I come with you?”
“I think your brother is calling you...” Silviana tried to be helpful.
“Yes, I am aware of that fact, but I would rather him think that I am not.”
“Oh...”
Together they mounted the stairs leading to the mage's sleeping quarters. The climb wasn't a long one, but Silviana already heard a strain to her companions breathing and began to suspect he had some sort of respiratory condition. That should be an easier task then expected, Silviana thought to herself and was almost disappointed. Then they reached the landing and he began to cough, shuddering all the while leaning heavily upon the strange staff. The spasm was a bad one, straining every muscle in his body and the elf-woman was not shocked to see blood on the mage's lips when it passed. Gathering his bearing after the fit, Raistlin took a ragged breath, and drawing a handkerchief from the folds of his robe mopped up the blood.
Silviana did not know to say, she certainly has not seen anything this bad before. Raistlin, feeling her uneasiness shot her a hard glance.
“Do not worry, it is not contagious,” he whispered quietly, bitterly.
“No I can tell it isn't,” She told him calmly, feeling a tingle of excitement now that her charge appeared to be more of a challenge after all.
Raistlin just stared at her and shrugged before proceeding to a door on their left and unlocking it. They entered the quarters that Raistlin shared with Horkin. The room was a small but neat one, with two tidily made up beds and a table with some chairs. A single window graced the back wall and Silviana made her way too it, opening it up to let in fresh air.
“I am letting in fresh air, it should help soothe your breathing. The mildew in this old castle is hardly good for your lungs.” Silviana took on her instructive voice, the one she used often with novice mages. It was firm and warranted no objections. Looking over, she saw Raistlin looking at her intently and blushed thinking perhaps she had overstepped a boundary. The silence beginning to lengthen uncomfortably, Silviana decided she would go along with what she was already doing.
“Lie down on your bed. I will heat up some water for a special brew I have concocted. It helps relieve the spasms brought on by severe coughing fits.”
Raistlin was so shocked at being so persuasively bossed around by a complete stranger that he inadvertently took a seat on his bed and leaned back against the head board. He was nevertheless annoyed.
“I already have a brew that helps with the spasms,” he pointed to a pouch sitting on the table, “It's rhubarb, lemongrass -”
“...with nightshade blossoms?” She finished off for him.
“Yes,” Raistlin stared at her with some respect.
“Hmmm... was it Par-Salian per chance who gave you the recipe?”
“It was,” Raistlin was confused all of a sudden, which made him all the more annoyed.
“Ahh, well that explains everything,” Silviana nodded to herself as she discovered a water pitcher and poured the liquid into a mug. Taking a few of the dried ingredients from the pouch she threw them into the mug, which she then held between her hands and whispered a word of magic to heat up the water. In moments the water began to steam. “Damn, I always overheat it! Anyway, just wait a minute or two for it to cool down.”
Raistlin had had quite enough.
“Alright, my lady Silviana,” he said sternly, “what is it exactly that makes sense to you now? I have to admit very little of what your presence entails makes any sense to me.”
Silviana was taken aback, but was not unprepared for this.
“You see, Raistlin.. I may call you by your first name? Master Majere seems so informal when we are about to spend some time together.” He just blinked at her, looking agitated. “Anyhow, I am -well was- Par-Salian's apprentice. The brew you have been drinking... that is my own special recipe. It was over a year ago that Par-Salian came to me and asked me for it, saying that there was someone who could use it.” She handed over the steaming mug to the mage, who accepted it ungraciously. “I assume that someone was you.”
Raistlin took a sip of his tea as a realization began to dawn on him. He looked at Silviana through squinted golden eyes.
“And now you are here. Why?”
“To help you. Or to make a study of you if you prefer that explanation.” Somehow, she thought that he did. Whereas he would scorn the idea of being taken care of in any way, he could at the very least respect another's ambition for improving magical skills.
Raistlin didn't say anything for some time and noted that his silence put the elf-woman on edge. She seemed quite well in control of herself from the get go but she dissolved easily, fidgeting nervously when tensions arose. Raistlin did nothing to try and ease her mind.
“I have a letter for you from Par-Salian, explaining the matter if you would like to look.” She fumbled with a scroll case on her hip and handed him a missive, which he took without a word and opened.
Raistlin Majere,
I beg you make acquaintance with the lady Silviana whom I have the pleasure of introducing as my own apprentice. Silviana is by far the best herbologist and healer- mage I have come across and as such I send her to you with the best intentions, as I am curious to see if there is something she may do for your condition. You are allowed to disclose to her any details from the Test which you remember and which you think may be conductive to her research. Consider this a gift.
Par-Salian.
Consider this a gift? Raistlin smirked. An odd choice of words. Still this reeked of some sort of plot and the mage didn't like it one bit. Why now of all times?
“I am sorry to say lady but I will not accept this help,” he told her coldly, “not to cause insult to your acclaimed healing abilities, but I myself know something of the craft and can take care of myself. There is nothing you can do for me.”
Her reaction was not one he expected. He assumed that she would be flustered enough not to make an intelligible response, but in this he was wrong. Silviana stopped fidgeting and stood up, her eyes growing cold enough to match his gaze. In spite of himself, Raistlin felt slightly awestruck by her glowering at him so.
“Oh no, Majere,” She said slowly with a venomous voice that did not suite her lovely elven face. “Let me tell you something. I have been cooped up in Qualinost for a good portion of my life being told what to do. I have since left and been studying at the tower. Studying outdated healing lore that any novice could grasp but that is way below my level of expertise. There as yet has been nothing to truly give me a challenge- nothing to test my skill and prove my worth!
Nothing save you! I was told and told truthfully from what I now gather that what ails you is like no other illness ever known to man. So you can choke on your pride, but I will be spending some time with you- examining your case. Think of yourself as the spell book I intend to study in order to gain more knowledge.”
Raistlin was impressed. He could relate to the yearning need to learn more, to experience the thrill of arcane knowledge. The woman had made her point.
“I suppose it shall not hurt to oblige you,” he said in a much more respectful tone now and commenced once more in drinking his tea. “Not to mention... there are things I am sure you can teach me. I have an interest in healing and herb lore as I have said.”
Silviana's stern composure was gone instantly, replaced by such a gleeful look that Raistlin was wondering if he had even seen that first to begin with. She plopped down into a chair next to his bed and began rummaging through her things.
“Good, now that that is settled,” she plucked out a quill, an ink pot and her personal notebook. “Tell me everything you can about your health. I assume you weren't born looking this... intense. I want to know what you were like before.”
“Straight to the point then?” Raistlin sighed.
“No need to waste time when one could always be learning,” she grinned impassively at him.
“Agreed.” Raistlin smiled slightly in his teacup and began his story.
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Red on Red