Dissolution

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Chapter Six

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For a moment all Kitiara could do was simply stare at the older woman, and the older woman
stared back. “I will not ask again...”

“Are you Lady Marinda de Talvines?” asked Kitiara, her mouth dry.

“I am,” answered the older woman imperiously. “Who are you?”

“First, I would like to make it clear that I do not need your money and what I am about to tell you
is simply academic to me, but you may want to know,” said Kitiara, holding up her hand to quell
any further questions. “And when I tell you, you will not interrupt until I finish and you may ask
your questions then.”

Lady Marinda blinked, then looked at the portrait that Kitiara had been looking at, then back to
Kitiara, then back to the portrait. It was as like wind suddenly being let out of sails, so quickly
did Marinda’s imperiousness deflate into quiet resignation and a deep sadness. “I knew this day
would someday come, child. I have been expecting it. You are Rosamun’s daughter, are you
not, by Gregor Uth Matar?”

Kitiara nodded, “I am.”

“Then you are right, we should talk,” said Marinda. “Come, follow me, we’ll speak in my study.
Such a conversation is not suited to a hallway.”

---

Raistlin paced slowly, as he had regained what little physical strength he had ever had, when he
learned that Kitiara had departed for parts unknown. Caramon shrugged, “She always did that,
Raist. I wouldn’t let it get it to you. She’ll be back when she’s back.”

“I know,” said Raistlin, leaning on the sill in his study. “But I get the feeling that there is just
something not quite right.”

Marinda smiled, “She’s a Highlord, nephew, what do you expect from such a sort? Oh, pardon
me,” she blushed. “I keep forgetting.”

“Do not worry about it, Aunt Marinda,” said Raistlin. “I can understand your unease now that I
have fully learned what my choice in robe color means.”

A half look at Dalamar was rewarded with a cool lift of one brow. “Even if I don’t understand
why either of us would help another... but it’s appreciated nonetheless.”

Dalamar started at this statement, “Thank you, Shalafi! I simply did it because I could not leave
you like that. I could only imagine what it must be like and I would not wish it on anyone.”

Raistlin scowled, and turned back to the window. “Caramon, tell me more of this Conclave.”

The twins did not see the quick, worried glances, from Dalamar to Ladonna and back again.

---

Kitiara stared out at the twisted Tower from Marinda’s study. “Tell me, how is Rosamun?”
asked Marinda.

“She died years ago,” said Kitiara, then uncharacteristically, “I’m sorry. I miss her, even if...”

“Even if what?”

“In her last years, I’m afraid to say that she wasn’t all there,” said Kitiara.

“In her early years, she wasn’t either,” came such a sardonic reply that reminded Kitiara of
Raistlin so much that she jumped and turned in surprise.

“Pardon me?”

“I said that even in her early years she ‘wasn’t all there’ as you so succinctly put it,” Marinda sighed and motioned for Kitiara to sit down. “Forgive me. Family curse– we tend to say what is
on our minds and do so bluntly.”

“I’d say sharply,” said Kitiara. “Which reminds me of why I’m here. There is an imposter
posing as you to trick my brother, who is as rich as I am, and as you and your family are, into
allowing her a fraction of his power.”

“Truly?” Marinda leaned in closer, her long fingers steepling.

Seeing this, Kitiara had a feeling that she know knew where Raistlin’s blood lay as clearly as she
was her father’s daughter and as clearly as Caramon as his father’s son. Kitiara sat across from
Marinda and explained, “My brother is an archmage, a powerful one. Or, at least he was until he
met with an unfortunate accident.”

“Did he die?”

“No, Aunt Marinda, he did not, thankfully,” answered Kitiara. “But he did strike his head and
injure himself gravely. So gravely that he could not remember who he was, or what he was
capable of. I imagine that this fake preyed on his feelings of being lost and now plans to move in
on him, and his power.”

“Indeed?” said Marinda. “Is he truly that powerful?”

“Yes, he is,” said Kitiara. “First, I’ll give you some background. I am Rosamun’s eldest child, and my father and I had a good relationship. He taught me how to use a sword, how to fight,
how know your enemy and defeat them. He taught me everything. Then he disappeared into thin
air and left my mother and I alone in Solace.”

“Solace?” Marinda started at this. “My, some heroes during the last war came from there, did
you know them?”

“I did, I mean I do,” said Kitiara, taking a breath. “I’ll get into that later, trust me, this factors into that. My mother finally had Gregor pronounced dead and remarried a man, a kind man if
simple, by the name of Gilon. It was in this marriage that my two younger brothers, who are
fraternal twins, were born when I was only eight years old.”

“Mother... declined after that. Her mind began to slip and it was left to me to raise them. Their
father, a woodcutter, and my mother had only planned on the one son and therefore only named
the first of the twins sons,” said Kitiara. “The first one was much like his father; strong, healthy,
big. They named him Caramon. The second twin, being born breach and hours later, was not
healthy and in fact the mid-wife had given up on him. I waged a war with death to keep my
littlest brother alive, and I won.”

Marinda remained silent, and Kitiara said, “I named him Raistlin, after tales of a man my father
knew. It seemed to fit.”

“You have no idea, Kitiara, you have no idea,” said a quiet Marinda. “The man your father knew
was in fact the same man you taught your father what he knew of war– my father, Raistlin de
Talvines. My father and Gregor were... not exactly well respected within the ranks of Solamnia
as they had ideas for warfare that were considered borderline dishonorable. The Talvines, once
retired, are known as leading a small band of spies and skirmishers.”

“Of course,” said Kitiara. “Both practices that while being intelligent in strategy are practices
that Solamnics frown upon– but I had no idea I had named my brother after our grandfather.”

“Nor would have known unless Gregor told you,” said Marinda. “But please continue.”

“For awhile I watched over them, raised them, took care of my mother even as I chafed,” said
Kitiara. “I am like my father, battles and wars are in my blood and I longed to join in them. It
became clear that Caramon was going to be like me, but not. He would fight to protect and be
happy with simple life, like his own father, where I would fight for the sake of fighting and for
money and power. This is Caramon, and is Caramon still. He still runs an Inn in Solace and is
happy there with his wife.”

“Any children?”

“Not that I know of,” answered Kitiara. “But Raistlin– he was like me but due to his frail stature it was clear that he would never be any of these. But he had the gift for magic, and when I saw
the opportunity to lead him to it and a school, I did so. I managed to convince Gilon of the same
and when a traveling wizard came through town I introduced Raistlin to him and soon Raistlin
was enrolled in a school of wizardry. He did well, so well that he attracted the heads of the
Conclave from what I understand. When he was only twenty, he passed the Test of High Sorcery
and was inducted as a member of the Order of Red Robes.”

Marinda nodded in understanding, and with barely restrained pride, “I am happy to hear he did so
well.”

“But he didn’t,” said Kitiara. “It wasn’t until later I learned that he had cheated by making a deal with an extremely old lich who lent him power in exchange for part of his soul so that the lich
could continue to live. This shattered his health even more, and left him permanently marked, so
I understand. No one really knows, but the Head of the Conclave, a White Robe, cursed my little
brother to teach him a lesson.”

“Did he learn?”

“Considering he still carries said curse, I don’t think so,” said Kitiara. “If anything it only made him angry, made him ambitious. Dark. But he became so powerful so quickly that no one could
match him and even the Conclave feared him so much that even though he acted within it, he
was deemed a Renegade to be killed on sight. I wish the old bastards luck in doing so, however.”

“He’s that powerful?” Marinda lifted a brow. “Why, the way you speak of him, he sounds
almost like the Master of the Tower here...”

Kitiara was silent, but Marinda was as intelligent as Raistlin and caught the meaning of it.

“Good heavens,” whispered Marinda, staring at the Tower, then back to Kitiara in horror. “My
nephew is... the Master of the Tower, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“And this imposter, now that Raistlin has lost his memory, is taking advantage of this? She
wants this Tower? She wants this power?”

“Yes. She said as much, and told me I would help her,” admitted Kitiara.

“So, you mean to kill me to insure that?”

“No, I don’t,” said Kitiara, the crooked grin she was famous for spreading across her face. “I
don’t like Ladonna, and you, Aunt Marinda, are going to help me make her little plan blow up in
her face...”

Marinda smiled a hard smile that looked like Raistlin’s. “I look forward to this very much,
Kitiara. I am glad we have had this little chat.”