Brothers Majere: Preludes, Book 3 by Kevin Stein

Author:Kevin Stein [Stein, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786963317
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-06-05T00:00:00+00:00

The meeting was held on Lord Brunswick’s estate near the northern tip of the triangular walls of Mereklar. The lord had sent his family out for the evening for the sake of privacy.

The city’s officials met in the library, where the lord kept the model of the city. Chairs and tables filled the already crowded room, making it seem much smaller than it really was. Caramon felt slightly claustrophobic and more than a little nervous at the prospect of being questioned by people as important as the Ministers of Mereklar.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Raistlin said from the dark, engulfing cowl, “you need not become involved. I will do the talking.”

The warrior relaxed. “Sure, Raist. Whatever you say.”

Earwig seemed to have shaken off his fit of grouchiness, for he kept Caramon half-distracted by poking into everything. The kender nearly upset the model. He was caught trying to stuff a large book into his pouch. Eventually Caramon collared him and plunked Earwig down on the couch between him and Raistlin, threatening to tie him up if he moved. The kender took the twist of metal out of his pocket and began shaking the bead, trying to make it fall out.

The first to enter the room was Shavas, who took her place opposite the companions, the model of the city between them. Her white gown clung to her full figure, a pleasing contrast to her dark, braided hair.

Next to enter was Lord Brunswick, owner of the house. He moved slowly around the room to sit near Shavas. The minister’s expression was blank and officiatious. Another man entered, Lord Alvin. He sat opposite Brunswick, casting a baleful glance at Raistlin.

Other lords and ladies entered the room through the large double doors. A short man with dark hair and a moustache sat next to Lord Brunswick. To the left of Alvin sat another man, tall and lanky.

Another woman walked into the room. Her hair was drawn back tightly from her face—a skullcap of wiry strands held by a short silver spike. With her came a stolid-looking man wearing a gray vest and slightly darker pants and shirt. He had a small scar under his right eye, and his black hair was swept back to one side.

Three other officials entered the room. Two were men. One was enveloped by a flowing brown robe—a cleric of some religious sect. The other wore a ceremonial breastplate of steel and greaves of leather. The third was a woman, dressed in a full, blue robe. She wore an amulet whose symbol could not be seen.

Shavas rose from her chair. “Raistlin Majere. Caramon Majere. Earwig Lockpicker. May I present to you the Council of the City of Mereklar.

“Lord Brunswick, Minister of Agriculture, and our gracious host. Lord Alvin, Minister of Property. Lord Young, Minister of Internal Affairs. Lord Creole, Minister of Labor. Lady Masak, Director of Records. Lord Wrightwood, Minister of Finance. Lord Cal, Captain of the Guard. Lady Volia, Director of Welfare. Lord Manion—” Shavas stopped. “Where is Lord Manion?”

The other officials glanced around.

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