Time of the Twins

“But what in the name of the Abyss does Lady Crysania want with a gully dwarf?” Tika said in absolute mystification. She had taken Bupu to the kitchen, given her some stale bread and half a cheese, then sent her back outside—the gully dwarf’s smell doing nothing to enhance the comfort of the small house. Bupu returned happily to the gutter, where she supplemented her meal by drinking water out of a puddle in the street.

“Oh, I promised I wouldn’t tell,” Tas said importantly. The kender was helping Caramon to strap on his armor—a rather involved task, since the big man was considerably bigger since the last time he’d worn it. Both Tika and Tas worked until they were sweating, tugging on straps, pushing and prodding rolls of fat beneath the metal.

Caramon groaned and moaned, sounding very much like a man being stretched on the rack. The big man’s tongue licked his lips and his longing gaze went more than once to the bedroom and the small flask Tika had so casually tossed into the corner.

“Oh, come now, Tas,” Tika wheedled, knowing the kender couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. “I’m sure Lady Crysania wouldn’t mind—”

Tas’s face twisted in agony. “She—she made me promise and swear to Paladine, Tika!” The kender’s face grew solemn. “And you know that Fizban—I mean Paladine—and I are personal friends.” The kender paused. “Suck in your gut, Caramon,” he ordered irritably. “How did you ever get yourself into this condition, anyway?”

Putting his foot against the big man’s thigh, Tas tugged. Caramon yelped in pain.

“I’m in fine shape,” the big man mumbled angrily. “It’s the armor. It’s shrunk or something.”

“I didn’t know this kind of metal shrinks,” Tas said with interest. “I’ll bet it has to be heated! How did you do that? Or did it just get real, real hot around here?”

“Oh, shut up!” Caramon snarled.

“I was only being helpful,” Tas said, wounded. “Anyway, oh, about Lady Crysania.” His face took on a lofty look. “I gave my sacred oath. All I can say is she wanted me to tell her everything I could remember about Raistlin. And I did. And this has to do with that. Lady Crysania’s truly a wonderful person, Tika,” Tas continued solemnly. “You might not have noticed, but I’m not very religious. Kender aren’t as a rule. But you don’t have to be religious to know that there is something truly good about Lady Crysania. She’s smart, too. Maybe even smarter than Tanis.”

Tas’s eyes were bright with mystery and importance. “I think I can tell you this much,” he said in a whisper. “She has a plan! A plan to help save Raistlin! Bupu’s part of the plan. She’s taking her to Par-Salian!”

Even Caramon looked dubious at this, and Tika was privately beginning to think maybe Riverwind and Tanis were right. Maybe Lady Crysania was mad. Still, anything that might help Caramon, might give him some hope—

But Caramon had apparently been working things out in his own mind. “You know. It’s all the fault of this Fis-Fistandoodle or whatever his name was,” he said, tugging uncomfortably at the leather straps where they bit into his flabby flesh. “You know, that mage Fizban—er—Paladine told us about. And Par-Salian knows something about that, too!” His face brightened. “We’ll fix everything. I’ll bring Raistlin back here, like we planned, Tika! He can move into the room we’ve got fixed up for him. We’ll take care of him, you and I. In our new house. It’s going to be fine, fine!” Caramon’s eyes shone. Tika couldn’t look at him. He sounded so much like the old Caramon, the Caramon she had loved...

Keeping her expression stern, she turned abruptly and headed for the bedroom. “I’ll go get the rest of your things—”

“Wait!” Caramon stopped her. “No, uh—thanks, Tika. I can manage. How about you—uh—pack us something to eat.”

“I’ll help,” Tas offered, heading eagerly for the kitchen.

“Very well,” Tika said. Reaching out, she caught hold of the kender by the topknot of hair that tumbled down his back. “Just one minute, Tasslehoff Burrfoot. You’re not going anywhere until you sit down and empty out every one of your pouches!”

Tas wailed in protest. Under cover of the confusion, Caramon hurried into the bedroom and shut the door. Without pausing, he went straight for the corner and retrieved the flask. Shaking it, he found it over half-full. Smiling to himself in satisfaction, he thrust it deep into his pack, then hastily crammed some additional clothes in on top of it.

“Now, I’m all set!” he called out cheerfully to Tika.

“I’m all set,” Caramon repeated, standing disconsolately on the porch.