"I can't wave a magic wand to see if they're here or not," snapped Raistlin, "but you heard what Kirsig said about the minotaurs forming alliances with other races. If, as I suspect, the minotaurs are caught up in their age-old visions of conquest and are trying to bring Sargonnas into the world to help them, it wouldn't matter where Caramon and the others are. We're all in dire jeopardy."
Raistlin paused, taking a deep breath. Visibly calmed, he continued. 'The jalopwort was just one of the ingredients necessary for the spell. The magic also calls for the sacrifice of a victim amenable to Sargonnas. My guess is that may be the reason why Caramon, Sturm, and Tas were brought to this part of the world. One of them may be the intended offering.
"We don't have much time. The spell can only occur during certain conjunctions of the sun, the moons, and the stars. These conjunctions occur not twice in one hundred years, and the next is only three nights away.
"Now let me show you a map I copied from an antique atlas in Morath's library."
Tanis waited, convinced. With Flint and Kirsig, who had overheard the tense discussion and joined them, the half-elf looked at a scrap of parchment that Raistlin had produced. It was covered with squiggly lines and geographic symbols. Yuril and the other sailors came hurrying up, and the small group gathered round the young mage.
"I think the spell will be cast somewhere in or near the ancient ruins of the city of Karthay," said Raistlin. "The city was destroyed by a volcano during the Cataclysm and buried under tons of ash and lava. It is a sacred site of the minotaur nation." He pointed to an area on the map marked as a mountain range. "Sargonnas is the god of deserts, fires, and volcanoes," he added.
"Based on this map, I think we can get there in time, but the journey promises to be dangerous. Anyone who does not relish that prospect should feel free to stay here and wait for us." At this, Raistlin looked up, not at Flint, but at Yuril and the female sailors.
Yuril and her small band had apparently already discussed the risks. "I have a debt to repay," spoke the sinewy sailor, "and my friends here are no strangers to adventure. I speak for us all when I say we cast our lot with you." Yuril delivered her statement proudly, one hand on the hilt of the short sword she wore at her waist. The muscles stood out on her bronzed forearms.
We are fortunate to have her and the others, thought Tanis.
"This dead city," Flint spoke up, "will probably be well guarded, and Sturm and Caramon and that damnable kender along with it. What do you plan to do once we get there?"
"I don't know," admitted Raistlin. "I won't know until we see how many soldiers are guarding the area. Between us," he added, looking at Tanis, "we should be able to come up with a plan."
Tanis felt his heart constrict as he thought once more of the missing Kitiara. He turned away from the group, pretending to scan the inhospitable terrain.
* * * * *
Following Raistlin's map, they picked up a trail along a river that had long ago flowed to the sea from the Worldscap Mountains. Now it had dried up, leaving only cracked, sun-baked earth.
The river route led them down one side and up the other of countless ravines and gashes in the earth. When they could, they kept to the dusty riverbed. Other times, they followed the dry river from paths above, proceeding single-file on narrow ridgetops. All day they stuck to their course, making such slow and uncertain progress traveling up and down and then doubling back that Tanis was left confused as to what, if any, headway they were making. Pausing as they reached one of several plateaus, the half-elf was glad to see that the Blood Sea had receded into the distance while a range of towering peaks had drawn somewhat nearer.
The land appeared empty—empty of greenery, animals, indeed of all life. The wind gusted at the higher elevations, strong and dry, howling into their faces and driving grit into their eyes and throats. The sun glared overhead, creating ovenlike heat that reached into all but the deepest recesses of the rocks. Whenever they plunged abruptly downward and briefly luxuriated in cool shadows, they felt a hint of something worse—the bitter chill of the territory at night.
By late afternoon, the small group was exhausted and dispirited. Raistlin and Tanis headed the column, in effect sharing leadership. Flint and Yuril brought up the rear. Trekking along the bottom of a ravine, the companions trudged along in silence, no longer so confident of the path they had chosen.
All of a sudden Raistlin and Tanis rounded a bend to find a sheer wall that loomed before them with no possibility of being scaled. To both their left and right stretched fifty vertical feet of smooth rock. Once again the group had no option but to turn back and retrace their steps.
By the time Flint and Yuril had climbed out of the ravine and Raistlin had made another sighting of the dry, winding riverbed below, the sun was sinking out of sight. Tanis felt the first chill as darkness began to settle over the land. He saw Flint sink down to the ground, his face lined with sweat and dirt. Immediately several of the sailors followed suit.
Next to him, Raistlin peered at the parchment map, turning it around in his hands, trying to decipher which was the best route.
"The old river keeps splitting off and changing direction," the young mage said wearily.
"Your map must be a hundred years out of date," said Tanis, "Who knows how many rockslides and earthquakes have come along since then?"
Raistlin frowned at him.
"I don't think any of us
