And it grew daily.
At first, the trip had been fun. Once Caramon got over his fit of sulks about Tika’s hard-heartedness and the inability of the world in general to understand him, he had taken a few swigs from his flask and felt better. After several more swigs, he began to relate stories about his days helping to track down draconians. Tas found this amusing and entertaining and, though he continually had to watch Bupu to make certain she didn’t get run over by a wagon or wander into a mudhole, he enjoyed his morning.
By afternoon, the flask was empty, and Caramon was even in such a good humor as to be ready to listen to some of Tas’s stories, which the kender never tired of relating. Unfortunately, right at the best part, when he was escaping with the woolly mammoth and the wizards were shooting lightning bolts at him, Caramon came to a tavern.
“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 something,” 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.
“We’re looking for a young woman,” Caramon said, settling down for the afternoon. He recited her description as he had recited it in every tavern from Solace on. “Black hair, small, delicate, pale face, white robes. She’s a cleric—”
“Yeah, we’ve seen her,” said one of the rangers.
Beer spurted from Caramon’s mouth. “You have?” he managed to gasp, choking.
Tas perked up. “Where?” he asked eagerly.
“Wandering about the woods east of here,” said the ranger, jerking his thumb.
“Yeah?” Caramon said suspiciously. “What’re you doing out in the woods yourselves?”
“Chasing goblins. There’s a bounty for them in Haven.”
“Three gold pieces for goblin ears,” said his friend, with a toothless grin, “if you care to try your luck.”
“What about the woman?” Tas pursued.
“She’s a crazy one, I guess.” The ranger shook his head. “We told her the land out around here was crawling with goblins and she shouldn’t be out alone. She just said she was in the hands of Paladine, or some such name, and he would take care of her.”
Caramon heaved a sigh and lifted his drink to his lips. “That sounds like her all right—”
Leaping up, Tas snatched the glass from the big man’s hand.
“What the—” Caramon glared at him angrily.
“Come on!” Tas said, tugging at him. “We’ve got to go! Thanks for the help,” he panted, dragging Caramon to the door. “Where did you say you saw her?”
“About ten miles east of here. You’ll find a trail out back, behind the tavern. Branches off the main road. Follow it and it’ll take you through the forest. Used to be a short cut to Gateway, before it got too dangerous to travel.”
“Thanks again!” Tas pushed Caramon, still protesting, out the door.
“Confound it, what’s the hurry?” Caramon snarled angrily, jerking away from Tas’s prodding hands. “We coulda at least had di
nner.…”
“Caramon!” said Tas urgently, dancing up and down. “Think! Remember! Don’t you realize where she is? Ten miles east of here! Look—” Yanking open one of his pouches, Tas pulled out a whole sheaf of maps. Hurriedly, he sorted through them, tossing them onto the ground in his haste. “Look,” he repeated finally, unrolling one and thrusting it into Caramon’s flushed face.
The big man peered at it, trying to bring it into focus.
“Huh?”
“Oh, for—Look, here’s where we are, near as I can figure. And here’s Haven, still south of us. Across here is Gateway. Here’s the path they were talking about and here—” Tas’s finger pointed.
Caramon squinted. “Dark-dar-dar Darken Wood,” he mumbled. “Darken Wood. That seems familiar.…”
“Of course it seems familiar! We nearly died there!” Tas yelled, waving his arms. “It took Raistlin to save us—”
Seeing Caramon scowl, Tas hurried on. “What if she should wander in there alone?” he asked pleadingly.
Caramon looked out into the forest, his bleary eyes peering at the narrow, overgrown trail. His scowl deepened. “I suppose you expect me to stop her,” he grumbled.
“Well, naturally we’ll have to stop her!” Tas began, then came to a sudden halt. “You never meant to,” the kender said softly, staring at Caramon. “All along, you never meant to go after her. You were just going to stumble around here for a few days, have a few drinks, a few laughs, then go back to Tika, tell her you’re a miserable failure, figuring she’d take you back, same as usual—”
“So what did you expect me to do?” Caramon growled, turning away from Tas’s reproachful gaze. “How can I help this woman find the Tower of High Sorcery, Tas?” He began to whimper. “I don’t want to find it! I swore I’d never go near that foul place again! They destroyed him there, Tas. When he came out, his skin was that strange gold color. They gave him those cursed eyes so that all he sees is death. They shattered his body. He couldn’t take a breath without coughing. And they made him … they made him kill me!” Caramon choked and buried his face in his hands, sobbing in pain, trembling in terror.
“He-he didn’t kill you, Caramon,” Tas said, feeling completely helpless. “Tanis told me. It was just an image of you. And he was sick and scared and hurting real bad inside. He didn’t know what he was doing—”
But Caramon only shook his head. And the tender-hearted kender couldn’t blame him. No wonder he doesn’t want to go back there, Tas thought remorsefully. Perhaps I should take him home. He certainly isn’t much good to anyone in this state. But then Tas remembered Lady Crysania, out there all alone, blundering into Darken Wood.…
“I talked to a spirit there once,” Tas murmured, “but I’m not certain they’d remember me. And there’re goblins out there. And, while I’m not afraid of them, I don’t suppose I’d be much good fighting off more than three or four.”
Tasslehoff was at a loss. If only Tanis were here! The half-elf always knew what to say, what to do. He’d make Caramon listen to reason. But Tanis isn’t here, said a stern voice inside of the kender that sounded at times suspiciously like Flint. It’s up to you, you doorknob!
I don’t want it to be up to me! Tas wailed, then waited for a moment to see if the voice answered. It didn’t. He was alone.
“Caramon,” Tas said, making his voice as deep as possible and trying very hard to sound like Tanis, “look, just come with us as far as the edges of the Forest of Wayreth. Then you can go home. We’ll probably be safe after that—”
But Caramon wasn’t listening. Awash in liquor and self-pity he collapsed onto the ground. Leaning back against a tree, he babbled incoherently about nameless horrors, begging Tika to take him back.
Bupu stood up and came to stand in front of the big warrior. “Me go,” she said in disgust. “Me want fat, slobbering drunk me find plenty back home.” Nodding her head, she started off down the path. Tas ran after her, caught her, and dragged her back.
“No, Bupu! You can’t! We’re almost there!”
Suddenly Tasslehoff’s patience ran out. Tanis wasn’t here. No one was here to help. It was just like the time when he’d broken the dragon orb. Maybe what he was doing wasn’t the right thing, but it was the only thing he could think of to do.
Tas walked up and kicked Caramon in the shins.
“Ouch!” Caramon gulped. Startled, he stared at Tas, a hurt and puzzled look on his face. “What’dya do that for?”
In answer, Tas kicked him again, hard. Groaning, Caramon grabbed his leg.
“Hey, now we have some fun,” Bupu said. Running forward gleefully, she kicked Caramon in the other leg. “Me stay now.”
The big man roared. Blundering to his feet, he glared at Tas. “Blast it, Burrfoot, if this is one of your games—”
“It’s no game, you big ox!” the kender shouted. “I’ve decided to kick some sense into you, that’s all! I’ve had enough of your whining! All you’ve done, all these years, is whine! The noble Caramon, sacrificing everything for his ungrateful brother. Loving Caramon, always putting Raistlin first! Well—maybe you did and maybe you didn’t. I’m starting to think you always put Caramon first! And maybe Raistlin knew, deep inside, what I’m just beginning to figure out! You only did it because it made you feel good! Raistlin didn’t need you—you needed him! You lived his life because you’re too scared to live a life of your own!”
Caramon’s eyes glowed feverishly, his face paled with anger. Slowly, he stood up, his big fists clenched. “You’ve gone too far this time, you little bastard—”
“Have I?” Tas was screaming now, jumping up and down. “Well, listen to this, Caramon! You’re always blubbering about how no one needs you. Did you ever stop to think that Raistlin needs you now more than he’s ever needed you before? And Lady Crysania—she needs you! And there you stand, a big blob of quivering jelly with your brain all soaked and turned to mush!”
Tasslehoff thought for a moment he had gone too far. Caramon took an unsteady step forward, his face blotched and mottled and ugly. Bupu gave a yelp and ducked behind Tas. The kender stood his ground—just as he had when the furious elf lords had been about to slice him in two for breaking the dragon orb. Caramon loomed over him, the big man’s liquor-soaked breath nearly making Tas gag. Involuntarily, he closed his eyes. Not from fear, but from the look of terrible anguish and rage on Caramon’s face.
He stood, braced, waiting for the blow that would likely smash his nose back through to the other side of his head.
But the blow never fell. There was the sound of tree limbs ripping apart, huge feet stomping through dense brush.
Cautiously, Tas opened his eyes. Caramon was gone, crashing down the trail into the forest. Sighing, Tas stared after him. Bupu crept out from behind his back.
“That fun,” she announced. “I stay after all. Maybe we play game again?”
“I don’t think so, Bupu,” Tas said miserably. “Come on. I guess we better go after him.”
“Oh, well,” the gully dwarf reflected philosophically. “Some other game come along, just as fun.”
“Yeah,” Tas agreed absently. Turning around, afraid that perhaps someone in the wretched inn had overheard and might start trouble, the kender’s eyes opened wide.
The Cracked Mug tavern was gone. The dilapidated building, the sign swinging on one chain, the dwarves, the rangers, the bartender, even the glass Caramon had lifted to his lips. All had disappeared into the midafternoon air like an evil dream upon awakening.
CHAPTER
7
Sing as the spirits move you,
Sing to your doubling eye,
Plain Jane becomes Lovable Lindas
When six moons shine in the sky.
Sing to a sailor’s courage,
Sing while the elbows bend,
A ruby port your harbor,
Hoist three sheets to the wind.
Sing while the heart is cordial,
Sing to the absinthe of cares,
<
br /> Sing to the one for the weaving road,
And the dog, and each of his hairs.
All of the waitresses love you,
Every dog is your friend,
Whatever you say is just what you mean,
So hoist three sheets to the wind.
By evening, Caramon was roaring drunk.
Tasslehoff and Bupu caught up with the big man as he was standing in the middle of the trail, draining the last of the dwarf spirits from the flask. He leaned his head back, tilting it to get every drop. When he finally lowered the flask, it was to peer inside it in disappointment. Wobbling unsteadily on his feet, he shook it.
“All gone,” Tas heard him mumble unhappily.
The kender’s heart sank.
“Now I’ve done it,” Tas said to himself in misery. “I can’t tell him about the disappearing inn. Not when he’s in this condition! I’ve only made things worse!”
But he hadn’t realized quite how much worse until he came up to Caramon and tapped him on the shoulder. The big man whirled around in drunken alarm.
“What ish it? Who’sh there?” He peered around the rapidly darkening forest.
“Me, down here,” said Tas in a small voice. “I—I just wanted to say I was sorry, Caramon, and—”
“Uh? Oh …” Staggering backwards, Caramon stared at him, then grinned foolishly. “Oh, hullo there, little fellow. A kender”—his gaze wandered to Bupu—“and a gu-gul-gull-gullydorf,” he finished with a rush. He bowed. “Whashyournames?”
“What?” Tas asked.
“Whashyournames?” Caramon repeated with dignity.
“You know me, Caramon,” Tas said, puzzled. “I’m Tasslehoff.”
“Me Bupu,” answered the gully dwarf, her face lighting up, obviously hoping this was another game. “Who you?”
“You know who he is,” Tas began irritably, then nearly swallowed his tongue as Caramon interrupted.
“I’m Raistlin,” said the big man solemnly with another, unsteady bow. “A—a great and pow—pow—powerfulmagicuser.”
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