Time of the Twins

“Just fill up the flask,” he mumbled and went inside.

Tas started to follow, then saw Bupu staring in open-mouthed wonder at the red-hot blacksmith’s forge across the road. Realizing she would either set herself or the town or both on fire, and knowing that he couldn’t take her into the tavern (most refused to serve gully dwarves), Tas decided to stay out and keep an eye on her. After all, Caramon would probably be only a few minutes...

Two hours later, the big man stumbled out.

“Where in the Abyss have you been?” Tas demanded, pouncing on Caramon like a cat.

“Jusht having a... having a little...” Caramon swayed unsteadily, “one for the... road.”

“I’m on a quest!” Tas yelled in exasperation. “My first quest, given to me by an Important Person, who may be in danger. And I’ve been stuck out here two hours with a gully dwarf!” Tas pointed at Bupu, who was asleep in a ditch. “I’ve never been so bored in my life, and you’re in there soaking up dwarf spirits!”

Caramon glared at him, his lips pursed into a pout. “You know shomething,” the big man muttered as he staggered off down the road, “you’re st—starting to shound a lot like Tika...”

Things went rapidly downhill from there.

That night they came to the crossroads.

“Let’s go this way,” Tas said, pointing. “Lady Crysania’s certain to know people are going to try to stop her. She’ll take a route that’s not very well traveled to try and throw off pursuit. I think we should follow the same trail we took two years ago, when we left Solace—”

“Nonsense!” Caramon snorted. “She’s a woman and a cleric to boot. She’ll take the easiest road. We’ll go by way of Haven.”

Tas had been dubious about this decision, and his doubts proved well-founded. They hadn’t traveled more than a few miles when they came to another tavern.

Caramon went in to find out if anyone had seen a person matching Lady Crysania’s description, leaving Tas—once again—with Bupu. An hour later the big man emerged, his face flushed and cheerful.

“Well, has anyone seen her?” Tas asked irritably.

“Seen who? Oh—her. No...”

And now, two days later, they were only about halfway to Haven. But the kender could have written a book describing the taverns along the way.

“In the old days,” Tas fumed, “we could have walked to Tarsis and back in this time!”

“I was younger then, and immature. My body’s mature now, and I have to build up my strength,” Caramon said loftily, “little by little.”

“He’s building up something little by little,” Tas said to himself grimly, “but strength isn’t it!”

Caramon could not walk much more than an hour before he was forced to sit down and rest. Often he collapsed completely, moaning in pain, sweat rolling off his body. It would take Tas, Bupu, and the flask of dwarf spirits to get him back on his feet again. He complained bitterly and continually. His armor chafed, he was hungry, the sun was too hot, he was thirsty. At night, he insisted that they stop in some wretched inn. Then Tas had the thrill of watching the big man drink himself senseless.

Tas and the bartender would haul him to his room where he would sleep until half the morning was gone.

After the third day of this (and their twentieth tavern) and still no sign of Lady Crysania, Tasslehoff was beginning to think seriously about returning to Kenderhome, buying a nice little house, and retiring from adventuring.

It was about midday when they arrived at the Cracked Mug.

Caramon immediately disappeared inside. Heaving a sigh that came from the toes of his new, bright green shoes, Tas stood with Bupu, looking at the outside of the slovenly place in grim silence.

“Me no like this anymore,” Bupu announced. She glared at Tas accusingly. “You say we go find pretty man in red robes. All we find is one fat drunk. I go back home, back to Highbulp, Phudge I.”

“No, don’t leave! Not yet!” Tas cried desperately. “We’ll find the—uh—pretty man. Or at least a pretty lady who wants to help the pretty man. Maybe... maybe we’ll learn something here.”

It was obvious Bupu didn’t believe him. Tas didn’t believe himself.

“Look,” he said, “just wait for me here. It won’t be much farther. I know—I’ll bring you something to eat. Promise you won’t leave?”

Bupu smacked her lips, eyeing Tas dubiously. “Me wait,” she said, plopping down into the muddy road. “At least till after lunch.”

Tas, his pointed chin jutting out firmly, followed Caramon into the tavern. He and Caramon were going to have a little talk—

As it turned out, however, that wasn’t necessary.

“Your health, gentlemen,” Caramon said, raising a glass to the slovenly crowd gathered in the bar. There weren’t many—a couple of traveling dwarves, who sat near the door, and a party of humans, dressed like rangers, who lifted their mugs in return to Caramon’s salute.

Tas sat down next to Caramon, so depressed that he actually returned a purse his hands had (without his knowing it) removed from the belt of one of the dwarves as he passed.

“I think you dropped this,” Tas mumbled, handing it back to the dwarf, who stared at him in amazement.