Time of the Twins

“Return the gully dwarf to her home with whatever small treasures you think she would like. As for the kender”—Par-Salian smiled—“you may send him wherever he would like to go—barring the moons, of course. As for treasure, I’m certain he will have acquired a sufficient amount before he leaves. Do a surreptitious check on his pouches, but, if it’s nothing important, let him keep what he finds.”

Justarius nodded. “And Dalamar?”

Par-Salian’s face grew grim. “The dark elf has undoubtedly left already. He would not want to keep his Shalafi waiting.” Par-Salian’s fingers drummed on the desk, his brow furrowed in frustration. “It is a strange charm Raistlin possesses! You never met him, did you? No. I felt it myself and I cannot understand...”

“Perhaps I can,” Justarius said. “We’ve all been laughed at one time in our lives. We’ve all been jealous of a sibling. We have felt pain and suffered, just as he has suffered. And we’ve all longed—just once—for the power to crush our enemies! We pity him. We hate him. We fear him—all because there is a little of him in each of us, though we admit it to ourselves only in the darkest part of the night.”

“If we admit it to ourselves at all. That wretched cleric! Why did she have to get involved!” Par-Salian clasped his head in his shaking hands.

“Farewell, my friend,” Justarius said gently. “I will wait for you outside the laboratory should you need help when it is all over.”

“Thank you,” Par-Salian whispered without raising his head.

Justarius limped from the study. Shutting the door too hastily, he caught the hem of his red robe and was forced to open it again to free himself. Before he closed the door again, he heard the sound of weeping.

15

Tasslehoff Burrfoot was bored.

And, as everyone knows, there is nothing more dangerous on Krynn than a bored kender.

Tas and Bupu and Caramon had finished their meal—a very dull one. Caramon, lost in his thoughts, never said a word but sat wrapped in bleak silence while absent-mindedly devouring nearly everything in sight. Bupu did not even sit. Grabbing a bowl, she scooped out the contents with her hands, shoveling it into her mouth with a rapidity learned long ago at gully dwarf dining tables. Putting that one down, she started on another and polished off a dish of gravy, the butter, the sugar and cream, and finally half a dish of milk potatoes before Tas realized what she was doing. He just barely saved a salt cellar.

“Well,” said Tas brightly. Pushing back his empty plate, he tried to ignore the sight of Bupu grabbing it and licking it clean. “I’m feeling much better. How about you, Caramon? Let’s go explore!”

“Explore!” Caramon gave him such a horrified look that Tas was momentarily taken aback. “Are you mad? I wouldn’t set foot outside that door for all the wealth in Krynn!”

“Really?” Tas asked eagerly. “Why not? Oh, tell me, Caramon! What’s out there?”

“I don’t know.” The big man shuddered. “But it’s bound to be awful.”

“I didn’t see any guards—”

“No, and there’s a damn good reason for that,” Caramon snarled. “Guards aren’t needed around here. I can see that look in your eye, Tasslehoff, and you just forget about it right now! Even if you could get out”—Caramon gave the door to the room a haunted look—“which I doubt, you’d probably walk into the arms of a lich or worse!”

Tas’s eyes opened wide. He managed, however, to squelch an exclamation of delight. Looking down at his shoes, he muttered, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Caramon. I’d forgotten where we were.”

“I guess you did,” Caramon said severely. Rubbing his aching shoulders, the big man groaned. “I’m dead tired. I’ve got to get some sleep. You and what’s—er—name there turn in, too. All right?”

“Sure, Caramon,” Tasslehoff said.

Bupu, belching contently, had already wrapped herself up in a rug before the fire, using the remainder of the bowl of milk potatoes for a pillow.

Caramon eyed the kender suspiciously. Tas assumed the most innocent look a kender could possibly assume, the result of which was that Caramon shook his finger at him sternly.

“Promise me you won’t leave this room, Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Promise just like you’d promise... say, Tanis, if he were here.”

“I promise,” Tas said solemnly, “just like I’d promise Tanis—if he were here.”

“Good.” Caramon sighed and collapsed onto a bed that creaked in protest, the mattress sagging clear to the floor beneath the big man’s weight. “I guess someone’ll wake us up when they decide what they’re going to do.”

“Will you really go back in time, Caramon?” Tas asked wistfully, sitting down on his own bed and pretending to unlace his boots.

“Yeah, sure. ’S no big thing,” Caramon murmured sleepily.

“Now get some sleep and... thanks, Tas. You’ve been... you’ve been... a big help... “His words trailed off into a snore.