Caramon took firm hold of his brother's arm. "Raist, you look terrible! What's the matter? Are you sick? Here, I'll carry you."

"You will not! Shut up and listen to me!" Raistlin had neither the time nor the energy to waste on Caramon's nonsense.

He started to thrust aside Caramon's supportive arm, then realized that he might well collapse without it. "Help me walk, then. Not that way, ninny! The door beneath the snake! We must find Judith!"

Caramon glowered. "Find that witch? What for? Good riddance. The Abyss take her!"

"You don't know what you're saying, Caramon," Raistlin gasped, foreboding sending a shudder through him. "Come with me or I will go myself."

"Sure, Raist," Caramon said, subdued, impressed by his brother's urgent tone. "Out of our way!" he cried, and punched a skinny town guardsman, who was trying ineffectually to get his hands around Caramon's thick neck.

Caramon helped Raistlin climb down from the seats, assisted him over the rope used to keep the faithful from entering the arena.

"Watch out for the vipers!" Raistlin warned, leaning on Caramon's strong arm. " The charm that held them is ended."

Caramon gave the snakes, swaying in their baskets, a wide berth. The High Priest and his followers had wisely fled the arena, leaving the vipers behind. Even as Raistlin spoke his warning, one of the snakes slid out of its basket and slithered across the floor.

People spilled into the arena, some trying to flee the melee, others seeking new opponents. A guard bumped into a brazier, spilling burning coals onto the straw which had been spread to deaden the noise. Gouts of flame shot up, wisps of smoke coiled into the air, further increasing the pandemonium as someone shouted hysterically that the building was on fire.

"This way!" Raistlin gestured toward the narrow doorway inside the stone statue of the snake.

The two entered a corridor of stone, lit by flickering torches. Several doors opened off the corridor on both sides. Raistlin looked into one of these, a large room, splendidly furnished, lit by hundreds of wax candles. In these rooms, Belzor's priests lived-lived well, by the looks of it-and worked. He had hoped to find Judith, but the room was empty, as was this part of the corridor. The followers of Belzor had deemed it wise to abandon the temple mob.

Glancing around in haste, Raistlin discovered that not all the faithful had fled. A lone figure crouched in a shadowed corner. He drew near to see it was one of the priestesses. Either she was injured or she had collapsed out of fear. Whatever the reason, the other servants of Belzor had abandoned her, left her huddled against the stone wall, weeping bitterly.

"Ask her where to find Judith!" Raistlin instructed. He deemed it wiser if he remained out of sight, hidden in the shadows behind his brother.

Caramon gently touched the priestess on the hand, to draw her attention. She started at his touch, lifted her tear-streaked face to stare at him fearfully.

"Where is the High Priestess?" Caramon asked.

"It wasn't my fault. She lied to us!" the girl said, gulping. "I believed her." "Sure you did. Where-"

A scream, a scream of anger, rising shrilly to fear, was suddenly cut off, in a horrible gurgle. Raistlin was chilled to the bone with horror at the dreadful sound. The girl screamed herself, covered her ears with her hands.

"Where is Judith?" Caramon persisted. He had no idea what was going on, but he had his instructions. He wasn't going to let anything distract him. He shook the frightened girl.

"Her waiting room. is down there." The girl whimpered. She crouched on her knees. "You have to believe me! I didn't know."

Caramon didn't wait to hear more. Raistlin was already moving down the corridor in the direction the girl had indicated. Caramon caught up with his twin at the end of the hall. Here the corridor branched off, ran in two different directions, forming a Y. The torches on the left side of the corridor, the side where Judith's room was located, had been doused. That portion of the temple was in darkness.

"We need light!" Raistlin commanded.

Caramon grabbed a torch from an iron sconce on the wall. He held it high.

Smoke from the burning straw in the arena had drifted through the doorway. The smoke slid in sinuous curls across the floor. The light shone on a single door which stood at the end of the dark corridor, gleamed off the symbol of the serpent made of gold which adorned the door.

"Did you hear that scream, Raist?" Caramon whispered uneasily, coming to a halt.

"Yes, and we weren't the only ones to hear it," Raistlin answered impatiently, casting his brother an annoyed glance. "What are you standing there for? Hurry up! People will be coming to investigate. We don't have much time."

Raistlin continued walking down the hall. After a moment's hesitation, Caramon hurried to his brother's side.

Raistlin rapped sharply on the door, only to find that it swung open at his touch. "I don't like this, Raist," Caramon said, nervous and shaken. "Let's go." Raistlin pushed on the door.

The room was brightly lit. Twenty or thirty thick candles stood on a ledge of stone inside the small chamber. Thick velvet curtains, hung from an interior door, closed off another room in the back, probably Judith's sleeping chamber. Wine in a pewter goblet and bread and meat, sustenance intended for the priestess's refreshment after her performance, had been placed on a small wooden table.

Judith no longer had need of food. Her performances were ended. The wizardess lay on the floor beneath the table. Blood covered the stone floor. Her throat had been slashed with such violence that the killer had almost severed the head from the neck.

At the horrible sight, Caramon retched, covered his eyes with his hands.

"Oh, Raist! I didn't mean it!" he mumbled, sickened. "About the Abyss! I didn't mean it!"

"Nevertheless, my brother," Raistlin said, regarding the corpse with terrible calm, "we may safely assume that the Abyss is where the Widow Judith is now residing. Come, we should leave immediately. No one must find us here."

As he started to turn away, he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye-torchlight glinting off metal. Looking closely, he saw a knife lying on the floor near the body. Raistlin knew that knife, he'd seen it before. He hesitated a split second, then, bending down, he snatched up the knife, slipped it into the sleeve of his robe.

"Quickly, my brother! Someone's coming!"

Outside, booted feet clattered; the girl was shrilly guiding the town guard to the High Priestess's chambers. Raistlin reached the door just as the captain of the guard entered, accompanied by several of his men. They stopped short at the sight of the body, alarmed and amazed. One guard turned away to be quietly sick in a corner.

The captain was an old soldier who'd seen death in many hideous aspects and was not unduly shocked by this one. He stared first at Judith, whom he had come to question about bilking money out of the good citizens of Haven, then he turned a stern gaze to the two young men. He recognized them both immediately as the two who had precipitated the evening's disastrous events.

Caramon, nearly as pale as the blood-drained corpse, said brokenly, "I-I didn't mean it."

Raistlin kept quiet, thinking quickly. The situation was desperate, circumstances were against them.

"What's this?" The captain pointed to a smear of blood on Raistlin's white robes.

"I have some small reputation as a healer. I bent down to examine her." Raistlin started to add, "to see if there were any signs of life." Glancing at the body, he realized how ludicrous that statement would sound. He clamped his mouth shut.

He was acutely aware of the knife clutched tightly in his hand. The blood on the hilt was sticky, was gumming his fingers. He was repulsed, would have given anything to have been able to wash it off.