Time of the Twins

Please, Fizban! the kender whispered, if you remember me at all, which I don’t suppose you do, although you might—I was the one who kept finding your hat. Please, Fizban! Don’t let them send Caramon off without me. Make this a Ring of Invisibility. Or at least a Ring of Something that will keep them from catching me!

Closing his eyes tightly so he wouldn’t see anything Horrible he might accidentally conjure up, Tas thrust the ring over his thumb. (At the last moment he opened his eyes, so that he wouldn’t miss seeing anything Horrible he might conjure up.)

At first, nothing happened. He could hear the red-robed mage’s halting footsteps coming nearer and nearer the door.

Then—something was happening, although not quite what Tas expected. The hall was growing! There was a rushing sound in the kender’s ears as the walls swooped past him and the ceiling soared away from him. Open-mouthed, he watched as the door grew larger and larger, until it was an immense size.

What have I done? Tas wondered in alarm. Have I made the Tower grow? Do you suppose anyone’ll notice? If they do, will they be very upset?

The huge door opened with a gust of wind that nearly flattened the kender. An enormous red-robed figure filled the doorway.

A giant! Tas gasped. I’ve not only made the Tower grow! I’ve made the mages grow, too! Oh, dear. I guess they’ll notice that! At least they will the first time they try to put on their shoes! And I’m sure they’ll be upset. I would be if I was twenty feet tall and none of my clothes fit.

But the red-robed mage didn’t seem at all perturbed about suddenly shooting up in height, much to Tas’s astonishment. He just peered up and down the hall, yelling, “Tasslehoff Burrfoot!”

He even looked right at where Tas was standing—and didn’t see him!

“Oh, thank you, Fizban!” the kender squeaked. Then he coughed. His voice certainly did sound funny. Experimentally, he said, “Fizban?” again. Again, he squeaked.

At that moment, the red-robed mage glanced down.

“Ah, ha! And whose room have you escaped from, my little friend’?” the mage said.

As Tasslehoff watched in awe, a giant hand reached down—it was reaching down for him! The fingers got nearer and nearer. Tas was so startled he couldn’t run or do anything except wait for that gigantic hand to grab him. Then it would be all over! They’d send him home instantly, if they didn’t inflict a worse punishment on him for enlarging their Tower when he wasn’t at all certain that they wanted it enlarged. The hand hovered over him and then picked him up by his tail.

“My tail!” Tas thought wildly, squirming in midair as the hand lifted him off the floor. “I haven’t got a tail! But I must! The hand’s got hold of me by something!”

Twisting his head around, Tas saw that indeed, he did have a tail! Not only a tail, but four pink feet! Four! And instead of bright blue leggings, he was wearing white fur!

“Now, then,” boomed a stern voice right in one of his ears, “answer me, little rodent! Whose familiar are you?”

16

Familliar! Tasslehoff clutched at the word. Familiar... Talks with Raistlin came back to his fevered mind.

“Some magi have animals that are bound to do their bidding,” Raistlin had told him once. “These animals, or familiars as they are called, can act as an extension of a mage’s own senses. They can go places he cannot, see things he is unable to see, hear conversations he has not been invited to share.”

At the time, Tasslehoff had thought it a wonderful idea, although he recalled Raistlin had not been impressed. He seemed to consider it a weakness, to be so heavily dependent upon another living being.

“Well, answer me?” the red-robed mage demanded, shaking Tasslehoff by the tail. Blood rushed to the kender’s head, making him dizzy, plus being held by the tail was quite painful, to say nothing of the indignity! All he could do, for a moment, was to give thanks that Flint couldn’t see him.

I suppose, he thought bleakly, that familiars can talk. I hope they speak Common, not something strange—like Mouse, for example.

“I’m—I—uh—belong to”—what was a good name for a mage?—“Fa—Faikus,” Tas squeaked, remembering hearing Raistlin use this name in connection with a fellow student long ago.

“Ah,” the red-robed mage said with a frown, “I might have known. Were you out upon some errand for your master or simply roaming around loose?”

Fortunately for Tas, the mage changed his hold upon the kender, releasing his tail to grasp him firmly in his hand. The kender’s front paws rested quivering on the red-robed mage’s thumb, his now beady, bright-red eyes stared into the mage’s cool, dark ones.

What shall I answer? Tas wondered frantically. Neither choice sounded very good.

“It—it’s my n-night off,” Tas said in what he hoped was an indignant tone of squeak.