"But you just said you didn't know where it was, so that means you can't get there with it!" Flint fumed.

"Ah, but if I ever do get there, I'll know where I am!"

Tasslehoff stated triumphantly, at which point Tanis changed the subject before the dwarf, now extremely red in the face, burst some important blood vessel.

The next day, around midday, they arrived at the gates of the Lordcity of Haven.

*****

The residents of Haven were the ones who termed Haven, grandiosely, a Lordcity. In their minds, Haven rivaled the fabled northern metropolis of Palanthas. None of the inhabitants of Haven had ever traveled to Palanthas, which might account for this misnomer. Haven was, in reality, nothing grander than a large farming community located on extremely fertile land, whose rich soil was nourished on a semiyearly basis by the flooding of the White-rage river.

In these days of relative peace among the diverse races inhabiting Abanasinia, Haven's crops helped feed both the dwarves of Thorbardin and the humans of Pax Tharkas. The elves of Qualinesti did not relish human-grown food, but they had discovered that the vineyards on the sunny slopes of the Kharolis Mountains produced grapes of remarkable sweetness. These grapes were imported to Qualinesti to make wine that was famous throughout Ansalon. Haven hemp was much prized by the Plainspeople, who twisted it into strong, sturdy rope. Haven wood was used by the inhabitants of Solace to build their houses and businesses.

The Harvest Home Festival was therefore not only a celebration of another excellent year in the fields, but it was also a celebration of Haven itself, a tribute to its agrarian prosperity.

A wooden stockade surrounded the city, intended to keep out marauding bands of wolves more than armies. Haven had never been attacked and had no expectations of being attacked. This was the Age of Peace, after all. The gates of the wooden stockade were closed only at night, stood wide open during the day. Those manning the gates acted more as greeters than guards, exchanging friendly salutations with visitors they knew from years past and giving a hearty welcome to newcomers.

Flint and Tanis were well known and well liked. The sergeant-at-arms walked over to personally shake hands with the dwarf and the half-elf and to stare admiringly at Kitiara. The sergeant said they had missed Flint's customary visit, asked where they had been all summer. He listened with deep commiseration to Flint's tale of woe and assured the dwarf that his usual booth on the fairgrounds was waiting for him.

Tasslehoff was well known, too, apparently. The sergeant frowned at seeing the kender and suggested that Tas go lock himself up in jail right now, thereby saving everyone considerable time and trouble.

Tas said that he viewed it as extremely kind of the sergeant to make such a thoughtful offer, but the kender was forced to refuse it.

"Flint depends on me, you know," Tas said, fortunately out of the dwarf's hearing.

The sergeant welcomed the other young men, and when he heard it was their first visit to Haven, he said that he hoped they would not spend all their time working but would have a chance to see some of the sights. He shook hands once more with Flint, advised Tanis in an undertone that he was responsible for the kender, bowed to Kitiara, and then walked on to greet the next wagonload rolling through the wooden gates.

Once inside the stockade, they were accosted by a young man wearing sky-blue robes, who motioned their wagon to stop.

"What's this?" asked Tanis.

"One of those Belzor priests," Flint said, glowering.

"Does he have a snake? I want to see it!" Tasslehoff was prepared to jump off the wagon.

"Not now, Tas," Tanis said in a tone that Tas had, on occasion, actually obeyed. Just to make certain, Caramon caught the kender by the back of his green-and-purple striped vest and held on tightly.

"What can we do for you, sir?" Tanis called out over the hubbub of rolling carts, neighing horses, and jostling crowds.

"I would speak to the young man in the white robes," the priest answered, directing his attention to Raistlin. "Are you a wielder of magic, brother?"

"A novice mage, sir," Raistlin said humbly. "I have yet to take my Test."

The priest walked to the side of the wagon near where Raistlin sat, gazed up at him earnestly, intently.

"You are very young, brother. Are you aware of the evil in which you dabble-probably all unknowingly, I am sure?"

"Evil?" Raistlin leaned over the side of the wagon. "No, sir. I have no intention of doing evil. What do you mean?"

The priest clasped his hand over Raistlin's. "Come hear us outside the Temple of Belzor, brother. All will be explained.

Once you understand that you are worshiping false gods, you will renounce them and their evil arts. You will strip off those foul robes and walk once more in the sunlight. Will you come, brother?"

"Gladly!" Raistlin cried. "What you say terrifies me, sir."

"Huh? But, Raist-" Caramon started to protest.

"Hush, you big ninny!" Kitiara dug her nails into Caramon's arm.

The priest gave Raistlin instructions on how to find the temple, which, he said, was the largest building in Haven, located at the very center of the city.

"Tell me, sir," Raistlin said after noting down the directions, "is there a person connected with the temple whose name is Judith?"

"Why, yes, brother! She is our most holy priestess. It is she who imparts to us the will of Belzor. Do you know her?"

"Only by reputation," said Raistlin respectfully.

"It is sad that you are a professed user of magic, brother. Otherwise I could invite you inside the temple to witness the ceremony of the Miracle. Priestess Judith will be summoning Belzor to appear among us this very night. And she will be speaking to the Blessed of Belzor who have already passed over."

"I would like to see this," said Raistlin.

"Alas, brother. Mages are not permitted to witness the Miracle. Forgive me for saying this, brother, but Belzor finds your evil ways offensive."

"I'm not a mage," said Kit, with a charming smile for the young priest. "Could I come to the temple?"

"Certainly! All the rest of you are welcome. You will see wonderful miracles performed, miracles that will astound you, erase your doubts, and make you believe in Belzor with all your heart and soul."

"Thanks," said Kit. "I'll be there."

The priest solemnly pronounced the blessing of Belzor on them all, then took his leave, moving off to question the occupants of another arriving wagon.

Flint snorted in disdain, dusted the blessing off his clothes. "I don't need the good opinion of any god who thinks well of snakes. And you, lad. 1 admit that I don't much take to magic- no true dwarf does-but it seems to me that you're a damn sight better off being a wizard than a follower of Belzor."

"I agree with you, Flint," Raistlin said gravely. This was not the time to remind the dwarf of his many harangues against magic in all its shapes and forms. "But it will not hurt me to talk to this priest and find out what this worship of Belzor entails. Perhaps Belzor is one of the true gods for which we have all been searching. I would like very much to see these miracles of which they speak."

"Yes, I'm interested in this Belzor myself," said Kitiara. "I think I'll go to the temple tonight. You could come, too, little brother. All you'd have to do is change clothes and likely they'd never recognize you."

"You're not going to make me go with you, are you?" Caramon asked uneasily. "No disrespect to Belzor, but I've heard the taverns of Haven are real lively, particularly during fair time, and-"

"No, my brother," Raistlin said curtly. "You do not need to come."

"None of the rest of you need to come," Kit said. "Raist and I are the spiritual members of this family."