Time of the Twins

“Shhhh,” Justarius murmured absently, patting the bag with his hand. “This is only for a short while, then you’ll be back in your cage, eating corn.”

“Huh?” Caramon said. Tas could almost see the big man’s startled look. The kender gnashed his small teeth. The word “cage” called up a dreadful picture in his mind and a truly alarming thought occurred to him—what if I can’t get back to being myself?

“Oh, not you!” the mage said hastily. “I was talking to my little furry friend here. He’s getting restless. If we weren’t late, I’d take him back right now.” Tas froze. “There, he seems to have settled down. Now, what were you saying’?”

Tas didn’t pay any more attention. Miserably, he clung to the bag with his small feet as it swayed back and forth, bumping gently against the mage’s thigh as he limped along. Surely the spell could be reversed by simply taking off the ring?

Tas’s fingers itched to try it and see. The last magic ring he’d put on he hadn’t been able to get off! What if this was the same? Was he doomed to a life of white fur and pink feet forever? At the thought, Tas wrapped one foot around the ring that was still stuck to a toe (or whatever) and almost pulled it off, just to make sure.

But the thought of suddenly bursting out of a silk bag, a full-grown kender, and landing at the mage’s feet came to his mind. He forced his quivering little paw to stop. No. At least this way he was being taken to wherever Caramon was being taken. If nothing else, maybe he could go back with him in mouse shape. There might be worse things...

How was he going to get out of the bag!

The kender’s heart sank to his hind feet. Of course, getting out was easy if he turned back into himself. Only then they’d catch him and send him home! But if he stayed a mouse, he’d end up eating corn with Faikus! The kender groaned and hunkered down, his nose between his paws. This was by far the worst predicament he’d ever been in in his entire life, even counting the time the two wizards caught him running off with their woolly mammoth. To top it off, he was beginning to feel queasy, what with the swaying motion of the bag, being cooped up, the funny smell inside the bag, and the bumping around and all.

“The whole mistake lay in saying a prayer to Fizban,” the kender told himself gloomily. “He may be Paladine in reality, but I bet somewhere that wacky old mage is getting a real chuckle out of this.”

Thinking about Fizban and how much he missed the crazy old mage wasn’t making Tas feel any better, so he put the thought out of his mind and tried once more to concentrate on his surroundings, hoping to figure a way out. He stared into the silky darkness and suddenly—

“You idiot!” he told himself excitedly. “You lamebrained doorknob of a kender, as Flint would say! Or lamebrained mouse, because I’m not a kender anymore! I’m a mouse... and I have teeth!”

Hurriedly Tas took an experimental nibble. At first he couldn’t get a grip on the slick fabric and he despaired once more.

“Try the seam, fool,” he scolded himself severely, and sank his teeth into the thread that held the fabric together. It gave way almost instantly as his sharp little teeth sheared right through. Tas quickly nibbled away several more stitches and soon he could see something red—the mage’s red robes! He caught a whiff of fresh air (what had that man been keeping in here!) and was so elated he quickly started to chew through some more.

Then he stopped. If he enlarged the hole anymore, he’d fall out. And he wasn’t ready to, at least not yet. Not until they got to wherever it was they were going. Apparently that wasn’t far off. It occurred to Tas that they had been climbing a series of stairs for some time now. He could hear Caramon wheezing from the unaccustomed exercise and even the red-robed mage appeared a bit winded.

“Why can’t you just magic us up to this laboratory place?” Caramon grumbled, panting.

“No!” Justarius answered softly, his voice tinged with awe. “I can feel the very air tingle and crackle with the power Par-Salian extends to perform this spell. I would have no minor spell of mine disturb the forces that are at work here this night!”

Tas shivered at this beneath his fur, and he thought Caramon might have done the same, for he heard the big man clear his throat nervously and then continue to climb in silence. Suddenly, they came to a halt.

“Are we here?” Caramon asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yes,” came the whispered answer. Tas strained to hear. “I will take you up these last few stairs, then—when we come to the door at the top—I will open it very softly and allow you to enter. Speak no word! Say nothing that might disturb Par-Salian in his concentration. This spell takes days of preparation—”

“You mean he knew days ago he was going to be doing this?” Caramon interrupted harshly.