Time of the Twins

“Well, let’s have a look around,” Tas said cheerfully, suiting his action to his words. He’d already been able to guess where they were by the odor—in a alley. The kender wrinkled his nose. He’d thought Caramon smelled bad! Filled with garbage and refuse of every kind, the alley was dark, overshadowed by a huge stone building. But it was daylight, Tas could tell, glancing down at the end of the alley where he could see what appeared to a busy street, thronged with people who were coming and going.

“I think that’s a market,” Tas said with interest, starting to walk nearer the end of the alley to investigate. “What city did you say they sent us to?”

“Istar,” he heard Caramon mumble from behind him. Then, “Tas!”

Hearing a frightened tone in Caramon’s voice, the kender turned around hurriedly, his hand going immediately to the little knife he carried in his belt. Caramon was kneeling by something lying the alley.

“What is it?” Tas called, running back.

“Lady Crysania,” Caramon said, lifting a dark cloak.

“Caramon!” Tas drew a horrified breath. “What did they do to her? Did their magic go wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Caramon said softly, “but we’ve got to get help.” He carefully covered the woman’s bruised and bloody face with the cloak.

“I’ll go,” Tas offered, “you stay here with her. This doesn’t look like a really good part of town, if you take my meaning.”

“Yeah,” Caramon said, sighing heavily.

“It’ll be all right,” Tas said, patting the big man on his shoulder reassuringly. Caramon nodded but said nothing. With a final pat, Tas turned and ran back down the alley toward the street. Reaching the end, he darted out onto the sidewalk.

“Hel—” he began, but just then a hand closed over his arm in a grip of iron, hoisting him clear up off the sidewalk.

“Here, now,” said a stern voice, “where are you going?”

Tas twisted around to see a bearded man, his face partially covered by the shining visor of his helm, staring at him with dark, cold eyes.

Townguard, the kender realized quickly, having had a great deal of experience with this type of official personage.

“Why, I was coming to look for you,” Tas said, trying to wriggle free and assume an innocent air at the same time.

“That’s a likely story from a kender!” The guard snorted, getting an even firmer grasp on Tas. “It’d be a history-making event in Krynn, if it was true, that’s for certain.”

“But it is true,” Tas said, glaring at the man indignantly. “A friend of ours is hurt, down there.”

He saw the guard glance over at a man he had not noticed before—a cleric, dressed in white robes. Tas brightened. “Oh? A cleric? How—”

The guard clapped his hand over the kender’s mouth.

“What do you think, Denubis? That’s Beggar’s Alley down there. Probably a knifing, nothing more than thieves falling out.”

The cleric was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a rather melancholy, serious face. Tas saw him look around the marketplace and shake his head. “The Dark One said the cross-roads, and this is it—or near enough. We should investigate.”

“Very well.” The guardsman shrugged. Detailing two of his men, he watched them advance cautiously down the filthy alleyway. He kept his hand over the kender’s mouth, and Tas, slowly being smothered, made a pathetic, squeaking sound.

The cleric, gazing anxiously after the guards, glanced around.

“Let him breathe, Captain,” he said.

“We’ll have to listen to him chatter,” the captain grumbled irritably, but he removed his hand from Tas’s mouth.

“He’ll be quiet, won’t you?” the cleric asked, looking at Tas with eyes that were kind in a preoccupied fashion. “He realizes how serious this is, don’t you?”

Not quite certain whether the cleric was addressing him or the captain or both, Tas thought it best simply to nod in agreement. Satisfied, the cleric turned back to watch the guards. Tas twisted enough in the captain’s grasp so that he, too, was able to see. He saw Caramon stand up, gesturing at the dark, shapeless bundle lying beside him. One of the guards knelt down and drew aside the cloak.

“Captain!” he shouted as the other guard immediately grabbed hold of Caramon. Startled and angry at the rough treatment, the big man jerked out of the guard’s grasp. The guard shouted, his companion rose to his feet. There was a flash of steel.

“Damn!” swore the captain. “Here, watch this little bastard, Denubis!” He thrust Tasslehoff in the cleric’s direction.

“Shouldn’t I go?” Denubis protested, catching hold of Tas as the kender stumbled into him.

“No!” The captain was already running down the alley, his own shortsword drawn. Tas heard him mutter something about “big brute... dangerous.”

“Caramon isn’t dangerous,” Tas protested, looking up at the cleric called Denubis in concern. “They won’t hurt him, will they? What’s wrong?”