“Where’s that big lummox of a husband of yours?” he asked cheerfully. “Where’s Caramon?”
It was a simple question, and Tanis was totally unprepared for the response. The crowd fell completely silent; it seemed as if someone had shut them all up in a barrel. Tika’s face flushed an ugly red, she muttered something unintelligible, and, bending down, dragged a gully dwarf up off the floor and shook him so his teeth rattled in his head.
Startled, Tanis looked at Riverwind, but the Plainsman only shrugged and raised his dark eyebrows. The half-elf turned to ask Tika what was going on, but just then felt a cool touch upon his arm. Crysania! He had completely forgotten her!
His own face flushing, he made his belated introductions.
“May I present Crysania of Tarinius, Revered Daughter of Paladine,” Tanis said formally. “Lady Crysania, Riverwind, Chieftain of the Plainsmen, and Tika Waylan Majere.”
Crysania untied her traveling cloak and drew back her hood. As she did so, the platinum medallion she wore around her neck flashed in the bright candlelight of the Inn. The woman’s pure white lamb’s wool robes peeped through the folds of her cloak. A murmur—both reverent and respectful—went through the crowd.
“A holy cleric!”
“Did you catch her name? Crysania! Next in line …”
“Elistan’s successor …”
Crysania inclined her head. Riverwind bowed from the waist, his face solemn, and Tika, her own face still so flushed she appeared feverish, shoved Raf hurriedly behind the bar, then made a deep curtsey.
At the sound of Tika’s married name, Majere, Crysania glanced at Tanis questioningly and received his nod in return.
“I am honored,” Crysania said in her rich, cool voice, “to meet two whose deeds of courage shine as an example to us all.”
Tika flushed in pleased embarrassment. Riverwind’s stern face did not change expression, but Tanis saw how much the cleric’s praise meant to the deeply religious Plainsman. As for the crowd, they cheered boisterously at this honor to their own and kept on cheering. Otik, with all due ceremony, led his guests to a waiting table, beaming on the heroes as if he had arranged the entire war especially for their benefit.
Sitting down, Tanis at first felt disturbed by the confusion and noise but soon decided it was beneficial. At least he could talk to Riverwind without fear of being overheard. But first, he had to find out—where was Caramon?
Once again, he started to ask, but Tika—after seeing them seated and fussing over Crysania like a mother hen—saw him open his mouth and, turning abruptly, disappeared into the kitchen.
Tanis shook his head, puzzled, but before he could think about it further, Riverwind was asking him questions. The two were soon deeply involved in talk.
“Everyone thinks the war is over,” Tanis said, sighing. “And that places us in worse danger than before. Alliances between elves and humans that were strong when times were dark are beginning to melt in the sun. Laurana’s in Qualinesti now, attending the funeral of her father and also trying to arrange an agreement with that stiff-necked brother of hers, Porthios, and the Knights of Solamnia. The only ray of hope we have is in Porthios’s wife, Alhana Starbreeze,” Tanis smiled. “I never thought I would live to see that elf woman not only tolerant of humans and other races, but even warmly supporting them to her intolerant husband.”
“A strange marriage,” Riverwind commented, and Tanis nodded in agreement. Both men’s thoughts were with their friend, the knight, Sturm Brightblade, now lying dead—hero of the High Clerist’s Tower. Both knew Alhana’s heart had been buried there in the darkness with Sturm.
“Certainly not a marriage of love,” Tanis shrugged. “But it may be a marriage that will help restore order to the world. Now, what of you, my friend? Your face is dark and drawn with new worries, as well as beaming with new joy. Goldmoon sent Laurana word of the twins.”
Riverwind smiled briefly. “You are right. I begrudge every minute I am away,” the Plainsman said in his deep voice, “though seeing you again, my brother, lightens my heart’s burden. But I left two tribes on the verge of war. So far, I have managed to keep them talking, and there has been no blood shed yet. But malcontents work against me, behind my back. Every minute I am away gives them a chance to stir up old blood feuds.”
Tanis clasped his arm. “I am sorry, my friend, and I am grateful you came.” Then he sighed again and glanced at Crysania, realizing he had new problems. “I had hoped you would be able to offer this lady your guidance and protection.” His voice sank to a murmur. “She travels to the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth Forest.”
Riverwind’s eyes widened in alarm and disapproval. The Plainsman distrusted mages and anything connected with them.
Tanis nodded. “I see you remember Caramon’s stories about the time he and Raistlin traveled there. And they had been invited. This lady goes without invitation, to seek the mages’ advice about—”
Crysania gave him a sharp, imperious glance. Frowning, she shook her head. Tanis, biting his lip, added lamely, “I was hoping you could escort her—”
“I feared as much,” said Riverwind, “when I received your message, and that was why I felt I had to come—to offer you some explanation for my refusal. If it were any other time, you know I would gladly help and, in particular, I would be honored to offer my services to a person so revered.” He bowed slightly to Crysania, who accepted his homage with a smile that vanished instantly when she returned her gaze to Tanis. A small, deep line of anger appeared between her brows.
Riverwind continued, “But there is too much at stake. The peace I have established between the tribes, many who have been at war for years, is a fragile one. Our survival as a nation and a people depend upon us uniting and working together to rebuild our land and our lives.”
“I understand,” Tanis said, touched by Riverwind’s obvious unhappiness in having to refuse his request for help. The half-elf caught Lady Crysania’s displeased stare, however, and he turned to her with grim politeness. “All will be well, Revered Daughter,” he said, speaking with elaborate patience. “Caramon will guide you, and he is worth three of us ordinary mortals, right, Riverwind?”
The Plainsman smiled, old memories returning. “He can eat as much as three ordinary mortals, certainly. And he is as strong as three or more. Do you remember, Tanis, when he used to lift stout Pig-faced William off his feet, when we put on that show in … where was it … Flotsam?”
“And the time he killed those two draconians by bashing their heads together,” Tanis laughed, feeling the darkness of the world suddenly lift in sharing those times with his friend. “And do you remember when we were in the dwarven kingdom and Caramon sneaked up behind Flint and—” Leaning forward, Tanis whispered in Riverwind’s ear. The Plainsman’s face flushed with laughter. He recounted another tale, and the two men continued, recalling stories of Caramon’s strength, his skill with a sword, his courage and honor.
“And his gentleness,” Tanis added, after a moment’s quiet reflection. “I can see him now, tending to Raistlin so patiently, holding his brother in his arms when those coughing fits nearly tore the mage apart—”
He was interrupted by a smothered cry, a crash, and a thud. Turning in astonishment, Tanis saw Tika staring at him, her face white, her green eyes glimmering with tears.
“Leave now!” she pleaded through pale lips. “Please, Tanis! Don’t ask any questions! Just go!” She grabbed his arm, her nails digging painfully into his flesh.
“Look, what in the name of the Abyss is going on, Tika?” Tanis asked in exasperation, standing up and facing her.
A splintering crash came in answer. The door to the Inn burst open, hit from outside by some tremendous force. Tika jumped back, her face convulsed in such fear and horror as she looked at the door that Tanis turned swiftly, his hand on his sword, and Riverwind rose to his feet.
A large shadow filled the doorway, seeming to spread a pall over the room. The crowd’s cheerful noise an
d laughter ceased abruptly, changing to low, angry mutterings.
Remembering the dark and evil things that had been chasing them, Tanis drew his sword, placing himself between the darkness and Lady Crysania. He sensed, though he did not see, Riverwind’s stalwart presence behind him, backing him up.
So, it’s caught up with us, Tanis thought, almost welcoming the chance to fight this vague, unknown terror. Grimly he stared at the door, watching as a bloated, grotesque figure entered into the light.
It was a man, Tanis saw, a huge man, but, as he looked more closely, he saw it was a man whose giant girth had run to flab. A bulging belly hung over cinched up leather leggings. A filthy shirt gaped open at the navel, there being too little shirt to cover too much flesh. The man’s face—partially obscured by a three-day growth of beard—was unnaturally flushed and splotchy, his hair greasy and unkempt. His clothes, while fine and well-made, were dirty and smelled strongly of vomit and the raw liquor known as dwarf spirits.
Tanis lowered his sword, feeling like a fool. It was just some poor drunken wretch, probably the town bully, using his great size to intimidate the citizenry. He looked at the man with pity and disgust, thinking, even as he did so, that there was something oddly familiar about him. Probably someone he had known when he lived in Solace long ago, some poor slob who had fallen on hard times.
The half-elf started to turn away, then noticed—to his amazement—that everyone in the Inn was looking at him expectantly.
What do they want me to do, Tanis thought in sudden, swift anger. Attack him? Some hero I’d look—beating up the town drunk!
Then he heard a sob at his elbow. “I told you to leave,” Tika moaned, sinking down into a chair. Burying her face in her hands, she began to cry as if her heart would break.
Growing more and more mystified, Tanis glanced at Riverwind, but the Plainsman was obviously as much in the dark as his friend. The drunk, meanwhile, staggered into the room and gazed about in anger.
“Wash ish thish? A party?” he growled. “And nobody in-in-invited their old … invited me?”
No one answered. They were fixedly ignoring the slovenly man, their eyes still on Tanis, and now even the drunk’s attention turned to the half-elf. Attempting to bring him into focus, the drunk stared at Tanis in a kind of puzzled anger, as though blaming him for being the cause of all his troubles. Then, suddenly, the drunk’s eyes widened, his face split into a foolish grin, and he lurched forward, hands outstretched.
“Tanish … my fri—”
“Name of the gods,” Tanis breathed, recognizing him at last.
The man staggered forward and stumbled over a chair. For a moment he stood swaying unsteadily, like a tree that has been cut and is ready to fall. His eyes rolled back in his head, people scrambled to get out of his way. Then—with a thud that shook the Inn—Caramon Majere, Hero of the Lance, passed out cold at Tanis’s feet.
CHAPTER
3
ame of the gods,” Tanis repeated in sorrow as he stooped down beside the comatose warrior. “Caramon …”
“Tanis—” Riverwind’s voice caused the half-elf to glance up quickly. The Plainsman held Tika in his arms, both he and Dezra trying to comfort the distraught young woman. But people were pressing close, trying to question Riverwind or asking Crysania for a blessing. Others were demanding more ale or just standing around, gawking.
Tanis rose swiftly to his feet. “The Inn is closed for the night,” he shouted.
There were jeers from the crowd, except for some scattered applause near the back where several customers thought he was buying a round of drinks.
“No, I mean it,” Tanis said firmly, his voice carrying over the noise. The crowd quieted. “Thank you all for this welcome. I cannot tell you what it means to me to come back to my homeland. But, my friends and I would like to be alone now. Please, it is late.…”
There were murmurs of sympathy and some good-natured clapping. Only a few scowled and muttered comments about the greater the knight the more his own armor glares in his eyes (an old saying from the days when the Solamnic Knights were held in derision). Riverwind, leaving Dezra to take care of Tika, came forward to prod those few stragglers who assumed Tanis meant everyone except them. The half-elf stood guard over Caramon, who was snoring blissfully on the floor, keeping people from stepping on the big man. He exchanged glances with Riverwind as the Plainsman passed, but neither had time to speak until the Inn was emptied.
Otik Sandeth stood by the door, thanking everyone for coming and assuring each that the Inn would be open again tomorrow night. When everyone else had gone, Tanis stepped up to the retired proprietor, feeling awkward and embarrassed. But Otik stopped him before he could speak.
Gripping Tanis’s hand in his, the elderly man whispered, “I’m glad you’ve come back. Lock up when you’re finished.” He glanced at Tika, then motioned the half-elf forward conspiratorially. “Tanis,” he said in a whisper, “if you happen to see Tika take a little out of the money box, pay it no mind. She’ll pay it back someday. I just pretend not to notice.” His gaze went to Caramon, and he shook his head sadly. “I know you’ll be able to help,” he murmured, then he nodded and stumped off into the night, leaning on his cane.
Help! Tanis thought wildly. We came seeking his help. Caramon snored particularly loudly, half-woke himself up, belched up great fumes of dwarf spirits, then settled back down to sleep. Tanis looked bleakly at Riverwind, then shook his head in despair.
Crysania stared down at Caramon in pity mingled with disgust. “Poor man,” she said softly. The medallion of Paladine shone in the candlelight. “Perhaps I—”
“There’s nothing you can do for him,” Tika cried bitterly. “He doesn’t need healing. He’s drunk, can’t you see that? Dead drunk!”
Crysania’s gaze turned to Tika in astonishment, but before the cleric could say anything, Tanis hurried back to Caramon. “Help me, Riverwind,” he said, bending down. “Let’s get him hom—”
“Oh, leave him!” Tika snapped, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. “He’s spent enough nights on the barroom floor. Another won’t matter.” She turned to Tanis. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. But I thought … I kept hoping … He was excited when your letter arrived. He was … well, more like himself than I’ve seen him in a long time. I thought maybe this might do it. He might change. So I let you come.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry.…”
Tanis stood beside the big warrior, irresolute. “I don’t understand. How long—”
“It’s why we couldn’t come to your wedding, Tanis,” Tika said, twisting her apron into knots. “I wanted to, so much! But—” She began to cry again. Dezra put her arms around her.
“Sit down, Tika,” Dezra murmured, helping her to a seat in a high-backed, wooden booth.
Tika sank down, her legs suddenly giving out beneath her, then she hid her head in her arms.
“Let’s all sit down,” Tanis said firmly, “and get our wits about us. You there”—the half-elf beckoned to the gully dwarf, who was peering out at them from beneath the wooden bar. “Bring us a pitcher of ale and some mugs, wine for Lady Crysania, some spiced potatoes—”
Tanis paused. The confused gully dwarf was staring at him, round-eyed, his mouth hanging open in confusion.
“Better let me get it for you, Tanis,” Dezra offered, smiling. “You’d probably end up with a pitcher of potatoes if Raf went after it.”
“Me help!” Raf protested indignantly.
“You take out the garbage!” Dezra snapped.
“Me big help.…” Raf mumbled disconsolately as he shuffled out, kicking at the table legs to relieve his hurt feelings.
“Your rooms are in the new part of the Inn,” Tika mumbled. “I’ll show you.…”
“We’ll find them later,” Riverwind said sternly, but as he looked at Tika, his eyes were filled with gentle sympathy. “Sit and talk to Tanis. He has to leave soon.”
“Damn! My horse!” Tanis said, starting up sudd
enly. “I asked the boy to bring it around—”
“I will go have them wait,” Riverwind offered.
“No, I’ll go. It’ll just take a moment—”
“My friend,” Riverwind said softly as he went past him, “I need to be outdoors! I’ll come back to help with—” He nodded his head toward the snoring Caramon.
Tanis sat back down, relieved. The Plainsman left. Crysania sat down beside Tanis on the opposite side of the table, staring at Caramon in perplexity. Tanis kept talking to Tika about small, inconsequential matters until she was able to sit up and even smile a little. By the time Dezra returned with drinks, Tika seemed more relaxed, though her face was still drawn and strained. Crysania, Tanis noticed, barely touched her wine. She simply sat, glancing occasionally at Caramon, the dark line appearing once again between her brows. Tanis knew he should explain to her what was going on, but he wanted someone to explain it to him first.
“When did this—” he began, hesitantly.
“Start?” Tika sighed. “About six months after we got back here.” Her gaze went to Caramon. “He was so happy—at first. The town was a mess, Tanis. The winter had been terrible for the survivors. Most of them were starving, the draconians and goblin soldiers took everything. Those whose houses had been destroyed were living in whatever shelter they could find—caves, lean-to hovels. The draconians had abandoned the town by the time we got back, and people were beginning to rebuild. They welcomed Caramon as a hero—the bards had been here already, singing their songs about the defeat of the Queen.”
Tika’s eyes shimmered with tears and remembered pride.
“He was so happy, Tanis, for a while. People needed him. He worked day and night—cutting trees, hauling timber from the hills, putting up houses. He even took up smithy work, since Theros was gone. Oh, he wasn’t very good at it.” Tika smiled sadly. “But he was happy, and no one really minded. He made nails and horseshoes and wagon wheels. That first year was good for us—truly good. We were married, and Caramon seemed to forget about … about …”
Time of the Twins: Legends, Volume One (Dragonlance Legends) Page 5
