Time of the Twins

Tasslehoff stopped eating, his face lighting up. The kender noticed that everyone else in the room had stopped eating again, too, certain that—this time—there would be a fight.

Caramon’s face, dripping with soup, was deathly white. There were red splotches in the cheeks, and his eyes glinted dangerously.

The cook was watching him smugly, his own fists clenched.

Eagerly, Tas waited to see the cook splattered all over the room. Caramon’s big fists clenched, the knuckles turned white. One of the big hands lifted and—slowly—Caramon began to wipe the soup from his face.

With a snort of derision, the cook turned and swaggered off.

Tas sighed. That certainly wasn’t the old Caramon, he thought sadly, remembering the man who had killed two draconians by bashing their heads together with his bare hands, the Caramon who had once left fifteen ruffians in various stages of hurt when they made the mistake of trying to rob the big man. Glancing at Caramon out of the corner of his eye, Tas swallowed the sharp words that had been on his tongue and went back to his dinner, his heart aching.

Caramon ate slowly, spooning up the soup and gulping it down without seeming to taste it. Tas saw the woman and the black-skinned man exchange glances again and, for a moment, the kender feared they would laugh at Caramon. Kiiri, in fact, started to say something, but—on looking up toward the front of the room—she shut her mouth abruptly and went back to her meal. Tas saw Raag enter the mess hall again, two burly humans trundling along behind him.

Walking over, they came to a halt behind Caramon. Raag poked the big warrior.

Caramon glanced around slowly. “What is it?” he asked in a dull voice that Tas didn’t recognize.

“You come now,” Raag said.

“I’m eating,” Caramon began, but the two humans grabbed the big man by the arms and dragged him off the bench before he could even finish his sentence. Then Tas saw a glimmer of Caramon’s old spirit. His face an ugly, dark red, Caramon aimed a clumsy blow at one. But the man, grinning derisively, dodged it easily. His partner kicked Caramon savagely in the gut. Caramon collapsed with a groan, falling to the floor on all fours. The two humans hauled him to his feet. His head hanging, Caramon allowed himself to be led away.

“Wait! Where—” Tas stood up, but felt a strong hand close over his own.

Kiiri shook her head warningly, and Tas sat back down.

“What are they going to do to him?” he asked.

The woman shrugged. “Finish your meal,” she said in a stern voice.

Tas set his fork down. “I’m not very hungry,” he mumbled despondently, his mind going back to the dwarf’s strange, cruel look at Caramon outside the arena.

The black-skinned man smiled at the kender, who sat across from him. “Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand to Tas in a friendly manner, “I’ll show you to your room. We all go through it the first day. Your friend will be all right—in time.”

“In time.” Kiiri snorted, shoving her plate away.

Tas lay all alone in the room he had been told he would share with Caramon. It wasn’t much. Located beneath the arena, it looked more like a prison cell than a room. But Kiiri told him that all the gladiators lived in rooms like these.

“They are clean and warm,” she said. “There are not many in this world who can say that of where they sleep. Besides, if we lived in luxury, we would grow soft.”

Well, there was certainly no danger of that, as far as the kender could see, glancing around at the bare, stone walls, the straw-covered floor, a table with a water pitcher and a bowl, and the two small chests that were supposed to hold their possessions. A single window, high up in the ceiling right at ground level, let in a shaft of sunlight. Lying on the hard bed, Tas watched the sun travel across the room. The kender might have gone exploring, but he had the feeling he wouldn’t enjoy himself much until he found out what they had done to Caramon.

The sun’s line on the floor grew longer and longer. A door opened and Tas leaped up eagerly, but it was only another slave, tossing a sack in onto the floor, then shutting the door again. Tas inspected the sack and his heart sank. It was Caramon’s belongings! Everything he’d had on him—including his clothes! Tas studied them anxiously, looking for bloodstains. Nothing. They appeared all right... His hand closed over something hard in an inner, secret pocket.

Quickly, Tas pulled it out. The kender caught his breath. The magical device from Par-Salian! How had they missed it, he wondered, marveling at the beautiful jeweled pendant as he turned it over in his hand. Of course, it was magical, he reminded himself. It looked like nothing more than a bauble now, but he had himself seen Par-Salian transform it from a sceptre-like object. Undoubtedly it had the power to avoid discovery if it didn’t want to be discovered.