to adjust one of her boots that had somehow almost wriggled off.
'You should have let him best you!'
She looked up to see a girl her age, with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair that fell in ringlets over her shoulders. Aureleen Damark, the coquettish daughter of a local furniture-maker, was one of Kit's few friends. They were practically opposites, but Kitiara had to admit that Aureleen made her laugh.
'Who, Caramon?' Kit scoffed, as she flashed a welcoming grin at her friend.
'No, Speckleface!' answered Aureleen earnestly. 'Why do you think he's always picking on you, anyway?'
'Probably just mean and dumb,' said Kit flatly.
Aureleen sat down beside Kit and spread her gangly legs out. 'Not at all,' scolded Aureleen. 'Although I won't argue with you that he's dumb.' She giggled. 'He likes you!'
Kitiara looked sternly into the eyes of her friend, finding it hard to believe Aureleen wasn't kidding. 'Speckleface?'
'He's not so ugly really,' said Aureleen decidedly, arranging her pink and white dress so that it spread out around her like a coral shell in the dirt and dust. With her rosy cheeks and long-lashed eyes, Aureleen was the picture of femininity. 'Guys like a girl who acts tough, Father says. Although,' she paused and thought for a moment. 'Mother says they prefer one with a soft heart. Hard outside, soft inside. What does your father say?'
Kitiara sighed. She could never keep up with the line of Aureleen's prattle. 'Did say…
'Yes, I do,' said Aureleen reprovingly. 'I mean Gilon- your
'He doesn't say much, thank the spirits,' said Kitiara. She glared fiercely at her friend. 'Life isn't just about getting a man anyway,' she declared.
'Oh, I disagree,' said Aureleen, fluffing out her hair prettily. 'My point is that Bronk likes you because you act strong and tough. But it would be better to let him win if it comes to wrestling or fighting. Men have their pride, and boys are worse.'
With that, she reached into a fold of her skirt and brought out a thick square of fruit bread, broke it in half, and offered Kitiara a share.
Kit had to smile. Soon the two girls were whispering and laughing as they ate the treat. The fairgoers simply walked around them; the Red Moon Fair was casual if nothing else.
'Miss Kitiara…'
This time Kit looked up to see Minna, her mother's former midwife, staring down at her with a most calculating expression. Kit hadn't seen the old biddy in several months. Aureleen jumped to her feet politely, and Kitiara reluctantly followed suit.
'How's your dear mother been?' Minna asked.
'Fine, thank you,' Kit said in a low voice.
'I haven't seen her about much lately,' continued Minna, her eyes narrowing to slits.
No, and you won't you old witch, Kitiara thought to say, but her tongue was tied and her eyes cast to the ground.
'Why, she's right here, enjoying herself at the fair,' piped up Aureleen in an ingenuous tone.
'What? Here?' Minna looked thrown by this report.
'Yes 'm,' said Aureleen pertly. 'She accompanied us here, and then… you know how it is, she had to go off with those two rascal boys somewhere. They were pulling her arms and legs-it was very funny to see-and she laughing and enjoying herself so very much.'
'Where? Where did they go?' Minna gazed over the heads of the crowd, avid for a new piece of gossip.
'Oh, you might look for them over by the games, if you just want to say hello, ma'am,' said Aureleen innocently.
'I might just do that,' Minna replied, suspicious.
She peered intently at Kit, but Kitiara's mask of politeness betrayed nothing.
'If you do, please tell her we're dawdling behind,' said Aureleen.
'Yes, yes. I will,' said Minna busily, looking over her shoulder at them as she hurried off through the crowd. The midwife was certain she had been gulled, but just in case, she would try to track Rosamun down.
When Minna was out of sight, the girls collapsed on each other. They were laughing so hard they could hardly stop for several minutes.
'That was royal,' said Kit finally, catching her breath.
They giggled some more. 'Yes'm, laughing and enjoying herself so much, she was!' Aureleen mimicked herself.
Kitiara stopped suddenly and drew an intake of breath. 'Oh, I've got to find the twins!' she muttered.
'Don't worry,' Aureleen reassured her, 'they'll be-'
'I'd better,' said Kitiara, turning to go.
'Oh, all right,' grumbled Aureleen, following her. 'Darned nuisances, both of 'em.'
While Kitiara was tussling with Caramon, a tall, thin man with piercing feline eyes, frosted eyelashes, and a dry, leathery face weaved through the crowd near Raistlin, handing out cards. Instinctively Raist reached out his hand, and the man put one of the cards in his tiny palm. On it was a weird inscription. The little boy could not read so very well yet, but he could decipher a symbol on the slip of paper-one of the many iconic symbols for a traveling magician.
When the man moved off, Raistlin got up and followed. In liquid motion the man threaded his way through the crowd, past this booth and that stall, around a patch of rocks and trees, down a path where people were clumped around, eating their lunches, to a small clearing that had been set aside for a presentation. The shambling man nodded at Raist conspiratorially and continued on his way, handing out cards. The crowd seemed to divide for him, then to swallow him up.
Raistlin looked to the center of the clearing. There, a circle of people had begun to tighten around a man preparing a show. When the man looked up for a moment, Raistlin had a flash of recognition. He looked behind him, to where he had last glimpsed the man with the cards, and then back at the other. The man setting up the show was almost identical to the one he had been following, except that this man was dressed in a yellow robe of somewhat faded grandeur.
Twins I thought Raistlin to himself, like me and Caramon. Intrigued by the coincidence, the boy moved closer. Soon he was only one of the dozen or so people who stood around, talking amongst themselves and waiting for the traveling magician to begin his act.
The man was arranging containers and scrolls and small objects on a stand that he had unfolded. As he did so, he murmured and cackled, seemingly to himself, but with some winking and nods to members of the crowd. One of the audience, a young maid with long, braided hair and a peach complexion, seemed to interest him particularly. When he cleared his throat to begin, for a moment his eyes rested on her.
Plucking a small coin from the recesses of his garment, the magician held it up to his audience, and then, with a flourish, carried it to the edge of the clearing and placed it against the forehead of a bowlegged farmer who stood gaping at him. 'Think. Think hard,' intoned the illusionist. 'Think of something important to you. One word or two. Don't try to fool a clever old magician…'
The farmer fretted his brow intensely, the job of thinking apparently every bit as arduous as that of plowing soil. 'New cow,' proclaimed the magician with a flourish, and the farmer's face flushed with an astonished expression that indicated the magician had got it right.
The magician moved down the row and came to the maid he had been eyeing. More gently, he held the coin to this one's forehead, looking deeply into her fresh face. Her expression, unlike the farmer's, was carefree. The magician seemed to ponder thoughtfully before crying out, 'A young man named… Artis!' She clapped her hands in delight as he continued, a slight frown on his face as if he were a little disappointed at what her thoughts revealed.
Raistlin was startled to see the mage's hand with the coin in it stretch out toward him. As he watched the man intently, the magic coin was planted against his own perspiring forehead. 'Now, a child. Children's minds are
