Time of the Twins

Tanis lowered his sword, feeling like a fool. It was just some poor drunken wretch, probably the town bully, using his great size to intimidate the citizenry. He looked at the man with pity and disgust, thinking, even as he did so, that there was something oddly familiar about him. Probably someone he had known when he lived in Solace long ago, some poor slob who had fallen on hard times.

The half-elf started to turn away, then noticed—to his amazement—that everyone in the Inn was looking at him expectantly.

What do they want me to do, Tanis thought in sudden, swift anger. Attack him? Some hero I’d look—beating up the town drunk!

Then he heard a sob at his elbow. “I told you to leave,” Tika moaned, sinking down into a chair. Burying her face in her hands, she began to cry as if her heart would break.

Growing more and more mystified, Tanis glanced at Riverwind, but the Plainsman was obviously as much in the dark as his friend. The drunk, meanwhile, staggered into the room and gazed about in anger.

“Wash ish thish? A party?” he growled. “And nobody in-in-invited their old... invited me?”

No one answered. They were fixedly ignoring the slovenly man, their eyes still on Tanis, and now even the drunk’s attention turned to the half-elf. Attempting to bring him into focus, the drunk stared at Tanis in a kind of puzzled anger, as though blaming him for being the cause of all his troubles. Then, suddenly, the drunk’s eyes widened, his face split into a foolish grin, and he lurched forward, hands outstretched.

“Tanish... my fri—”

“Name of the gods,” Tanis breathed, recognizing him at last.

The man staggered forward and stumbled over a chair. For a moment he stood swaying unsteadily, like a tree that has been cut and is ready to fall. His eyes rolled back in his head, people scrambled to get out of his way. Then—with a thud that shook the Inn—Caramon Majere, Hero of the Lance, passed out cold at Tanis’s feet.

3

Name of the gods,” Tanis repeated in sorrow as he stooped down beside the comatose warrior. “Caramon...”

“Tanis—” Riverwind’s voice caused the half-elf to glance up quickly. The Plainsman held Tika in his arms, both he and Dezra trying to comfort the distraught young woman. But people were pressing close, trying to question Riverwind or asking Crysania for a blessing. Others were demanding more ale or just standing around, gawking.

Tanis rose swiftly to his feet. “The Inn is closed for the night,” he shouted.

There were jeers from the crowd, except for some scattered applause near the back where several customers thought he was buying a round of drinks.

“No, I mean it,” Tanis said firmly, his voice carrying over the noise. The crowd quieted. “Thank you all for this welcome. I cannot tell you what it means to me to come back to my homeland. But, my friends and I would like to be alone now. Please, it is late...”

There were murmurs of sympathy and some good-natured clapping. Only a few scowled and muttered comments about the greater the knight the more his own armor glares in his eyes (an old saying from the days when the Solamnic Knights were held in derision). Riverwind, leaving Dezra to take care of Tika, came forward to prod those few stragglers who assumed Tanis meant everyone except them. The half-elf stood guard over Caramon, who was snoring blissfully on the floor, keeping people from stepping on the big man. He exchanged glances with Riverwind as the Plainsman passed, but neither had time to speak until the Inn was emptied.

Otik Sandeth stood by the door, thanking everyone for coming and assuring each that the Inn would be open again tomorrow night. When everyone else had gone, Tanis stepped up to the retired proprietor, feeling awkward and embarrassed. But Otik stopped him before he could speak.

Gripping Tanis’s hand in his, the elderly man whispered, “I’m glad you’ve come back. Lock up when you’re finished.” He glanced at Tika, then motioned the half-elf forward conspiratorially. “Tanis,” he said in a whisper, “if you happen to see Tika take a little out of the money box, pay it no mind. She’ll pay it back someday. I just pretend not to notice.” His gaze went to Caramon, and he shook his head sadly. “I know you’ll be able to help,” he murmured, then he nodded and stumped off into the night, leaning on his cane.

Help! Tanis thought wildly. We came seeking his help. Caramon snored particularly loudly, half-woke himself up, belched up great fumes of dwarf spirits, then settled back down to sleep. Tanis looked bleakly at Riverwind, then shook his head in despair.

Crysania stared down at Caramon in pity mingled with disgust. “Poor man,” she said softly. The medallion of Paladine shone in the candlelight. “Perhaps I—”

“There’s nothing you can do for him,” Tika cried bitterly. “He doesn’t need healing. He’s drunk, can’t you see that? Dead drunk!”