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. They
came to stand before a withered figure sitting in the center of a
cold, empty chamber.
"Welcome, Raistlin," Par-Salian said. "Do you consider
yourself prepared to undergo your final Test?"
"I do, Par-Salian, Greatest of Them All."
Par-Salian studied the young man before him. The conjurer's
pale, thin cheeks were stained with a faint flush, as though fever
burned in his blood. "Who accompanies you?" Par-Salian asked.
"My twin brother, Caramon, Great Mage." Raist-lin's mouth
twisted into a snarl. "As you see. Great One, I am no fighter. My
brother came to protect me."
Par-Salian stared at the brothers, reflecting on the odd humor
of the gods. TWINS! THIS CARAMON IS HUGE. SIX FEET
TALL, HE MUST WEIGH OVER TWO HUNDRED POUNDS. HIS
FACE-A FACE OF SMILES AND BOISTEROUS LAUGHTER;
THE EYES ARE AS OPEN AS HIS HEART. POOR RAISTLIN.
Par-Salian turned his gaze back to the young man whose red
robes hung from thin, stooped shoulders. Obviously weak, Raistlin
was the one who could never take what he wanted, so he had
learned, long ago, that magic could compensate for his
deficiencies. Par-Salian looked into the eyes. No, they were not
mirrors as the master had said-not for those with the power to see
deeply. There was good inside the young man-an inner core of
strength that would enable his fragile body to endure much. But
now his soul was a cold, shapeless mass, dark with pride, greed,
and selfishness
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