Time of the Twins

Caramon had, in fact, been wondering about this very thing. Tas had insisted that he wear the golden, silken cape he wore in the ring, plus the helmet he had worn that afternoon. It didn’t seem at all suitable for sneaking into Temples—Caramon had visions of crawling through sewers or climbing over rooftops. But when he balked, Tas’s eyes had grown cold. Either Caramon did as he was told or he could forget it, he said sharply.

Caramon, sighing, dressed as ordered, putting the cape on over his regular loose shirt and leather breeches. He put the bloodstained dagger in his belt. Out of habit, he had started to clean it, then stopped. No, it would be more suitable this way.

It had been a simple matter for the kender to unlock their door after Raag locked them in that night, and the two had slipped through the sleeping section of the gladiators’ quarters without incident; most of the fighters either being asleep or—in the case of the minotaurs—roaring drunk.

The two walked the streets openly, to Caramon’s vast discomfort. But the kender seemed unperturbed. Unusually moody and silent, Tas continually ignored Caramon’s repeated questions. They drew nearer and nearer the Temple. It loomed before them in all its pearl and silver radiance, and finally Caramon stopped.

“Wait a minute, Tas,” he said softly, pulling the kender into a shadowy corner, “just how do you plan to get us in here?”

“Through the front doors,” Tas answered quietly.

“The front doors?” Caramon repeated in blank astonishment. “Are you mad? The guards! They’ll stop us—”

“It’s a Temple, Caramon,” Tas said with a sigh. “A Temple to the gods. Evil things just don’t enter.”

“Fistandantilus enters,” Caramon said gruffly.

“But only because the Kingpriest allows it,” Tas said, shrugging. “Otherwise, he couldn’t get in here. The gods wouldn’t permit it. At least that’s what one of the clerics told me when I asked.”

Caramon frowned. The dagger in his belt seemed heavy, the metal was hot against his skin. Just his imagination, he told himself. After all, he’d worn daggers before. Reaching beneath his cloak, he touched it reassuringly. Then, his lips pressed tightly together, he started walking toward the Temple. After a moment’s hesitation, Tas caught up with him.

“Caramon,” said the kender in a small voice, “I-I think I know what you were thinking. I’ve been thinking the same thing. What if the gods won’t let us in’”

“We’re out to destroy evil,” Caramon said evenly, his hand on the dagger’s hilt. “They’ll help us, not hinder us. You’ll see.”

“But, Caramon—” Now it was Tas’s turn to ask questions and Caramon’s turn to grimly ignore him. Eventually, they reached the magnificent steps leading up to the Temple. Caramon stopped, staring at the building. Seven towers rose to the heavens, as if praising the gods for their creation. But one spiraled above them all. Gleaming in Solinari’s light, it seemed not to praise the gods but sought to rival them. The beauty of the Temple, its pearl and rose-colored marble gleaming softly in the moonlight, its still pools of water reflecting the stars, its vast gardens of lovely, fragrant flowers, its ornamentation of silver and of gold, all took Caramon’s breath away, piercing his heart. He could not move but was held as though spellbound by the wonder.

And then, in the back of his mind, came a lurking feeling of horror. He had seen this before! Only he had seen it in a nightmare—the towers twisted and misshapen... Confused, he closed his eyes. Where? How? Then, it came to him. The Temple at Neraka, where he’d been imprisoned! The Temple of the Queen of Darkness! It had been this very Temple, perverted by her evil, corrupted, turned to a thing of horror. Caramon trembled. Overwhelmed by this terrible memory, wondering at its portent, he thought for a moment of turning around and fleeing.

Then he felt Tas tug at his arm. “Keep moving!” the kender ordered. “You look suspicious!”

Caramon shook his head, clearing it of stupid memories that meant nothing, he told himself. The two approached the guards at the door.

“Tas!” Caramon said suddenly, gripping the kender by the shoulder so tightly he squeaked in pain. “Tas, this is a test! If the gods let us in, I’ll know we’re doing the right thing! We’ll have their blessing!”

Tas paused. “Do you think so?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course!” Caramon’s eyes shone in Solinari’s bright light.

“You’ll see. Come on.” His confidence restored, the big man strode up the stairs. He was an imposing sight, the golden, silken cape fluttering about him, the golden helmet flashing in the moonlight. The guards stopped talking and turned to watch him. One nudged the other, saying something and making a swift, stabbing motion with his hand. The other guard grinned and shook his head, regarding Caramon with admiration.