What follows is an interview I conducted early this morning with the world renowned mage, Raistlin Majere. I woke to find him sitting at my table, drinking a very sour smelling tea. The Staff of Magius was leaning against the chair next to him, and the hood of his black robes was thrown back to expose his silvery hair, sharp features, and piercing golden eyes. I could see myself in those hourglasses and I shuddered at the image. Despite the overwhelming urge to run away, I pulled up a chair next to him, asked him a few questions, most of which he answered in his biting sarcastic way, and then when he had finished his tea, just like that, he was gone.
I scrambled to my computer to try and write down as much of the encounter as I could remember and what follows is the best I could do:
Matticus: Good morning, Raistlin. It is a honor to be in your presence, and I have to say more than a little scary considering what you could do to me with a few simple words and a flick of your staff.
Raistlin: You needn’t worry about me wasting a spell on you, silly Jester, as you know I have always had a soft spot in my heart for pathetic creatures.
Matticus: Well, er, um, good to know. It’s kind of weird to have you sitting in my kitchen. Why are you here?
Raistlin: Either you are dreaming, or someone is playing a cruel joke on me.
Matticus: Who would play a joke on you? I wouldn’t think anyone would be that crazy.
Raistlin: Since being removed from his keep, Lord Sloth has grown bored and on more than a few occasions has engaged in some frivolity in the hopes it would provide some entertainment. I believe he misses the old routine and isn’t quite sure what to do with himself anymore. So, it could be him. Also, Dalamar is still trying to figure out a way to bring me back. He doesn’t want to have me teach him so much as he wants to know what I know. I can’t really blame him for that. I have the greatest knowledge of magic and the world of Krynn of any mortal to ever live.
Matticus: Are you, technically, still alive?
Raistlin: Yes. And, no. I am still flesh and blood, I will still have a death when my time is through, but it no longer effects me as it does those walking the land. Since I entered the Abyss to fight the dark queen I have been removed from the normal flow of life.
Matticus: After sacrificing yourself to save the world, why didn’t you opt to return to the red robes you wore after completing the Test of High Sorcery?
Raistlin: While I did save the world, the world was only in danger because of the actions I had taken up to that point. It wasn’t a truly “soul cleansing” act. Besides, the practice of white and red magic is still somewhat more limiting than what I want to be able to do.
Matticus: While it wasn’t “soul cleansing,” as you put it, it was enough of a sacrifice that Paladine kept you from eternal torture at the hands (talons) of Takhisis, right?
Raistlin: That is correct.
Matticus: Without access to the mortal realm, and without having fully passed on to the spirit world, what do you fill your days with?
Raistlin: Living as I do between the worlds affords me ample time and resources to continue my research. I can access all of the history of the world. I can learn and practice and experiment without having to worry about injuring others. While I dabbled in it before I went to claim the Abyss for my own, I have created several new spells by being able to study the language of magic and reshape it for my own purposes. Would you care for a demonstration?
(At this point, the light in the room seemed to darken a bit, his mouth twisted in a sneer, and electricity sparked and circled around the orb clutched in the dragon’s claw atop his staff.)
Matticus: No, no that’s alright. I wouldn’t want to wake the rest of the house. Maybe some other time. But, if your magic works here, does that mean that if I look hard enough I could find and learn magic too? Is there magic in this world as well?
But, he was already gone. The chair hadn’t moved but he no longer sat in it, and the staff was no longer leaned against it. His empty tea mug sat on the table, stained by the strange brew he had been drinking.
I must have scrubbed that mug for 30 minutes and I can’t get the stain out.
Raistlin, if you are reading this, you owe me a mug.
Or, magic. I’d take that in exchange instead.