“Do you really think Tanis is jealous?” Laurana asked, her blush deepening.
“Watch him sometime. He’s goes green as a goblin whenever he sees you and Elistan together.”
“He has no reason to think there is anything between us,” said Laurana. “I’ll speak to him.”
“You will do no such thing!” Tika turned so fast the comb caught in her hair and jerked out of Laurana’s hands. “Let him stew for awhile. Maybe it’ll put that wildcat Kit out of his mind.”
“But that would be lying, in a way,” Laurana protested, retrieving the comb.
“No, it isn’t,” Tika said. “Besides, what if it is? All’s fair in love and war, and the gods know that for us women, love is war. I wish there was someone around to make Caramon jealous.”
“Caramon loves you dearly, Tika,” said Laurana, smiling. “Anyone can see it by the way he looks at you.”
“I don’t want him to just stand there making great cow eyes at me! I want him to do something about it!”
“There’s Raistlin—” Laurana began.
“Don’t mention Raistlin to me!” Tika snapped. “Caramon’s more a slave than a brother, and one day he’ll wake up and find that out. Only by that time, it may be too late.” She held her head high. “Some of us may have moved on with our lives.”
There was no more conversation. Laurana was thinking over this new and unexpected revelation that Tanis might be jealous of her relationship with Elistan. That would certainly explain that remark he’d made to her today.
Tika sat on the stool Caramon had made for her and blinked back her tears—tears caused by the comb yanking on her hair …
Caramon lagged behind his brother as they made their way to their small cave. Caramon knew the signs, knew that Raistlin was plotting. His brother generally moved slowly, taking cautious steps, leaning on his staff or on his brother’s arm. Raistlin walked rapidly now, the crystal held by the gold dragon claw atop his staff casting a magical light to guide his way. His red robes swished around his ankles. He did not look around to see if Caramon was following. Raistlin knew he would be.
Arriving at the cave, Raistlin shoved aside the wooden screen and ducked inside. Caramon entered more slowly, pausing to adjust the screen in place for the night. Raistlin stopped him.
“No need,” he said. “You’re going out again.”
“Do you want me to fetch hot water for your tea?” Caramon asked.
“Am I coughing myself to death?” Raistlin demanded. “No,” Caramon said.
“Then I do not need my tea.” Raistlin began to search among their belongings. He picked up a water skin and held it out to his brother.
“Go to the stream and fill this.”
“There’s water in the bucket—” Caramon began.
“If you want to carry water in a bucket with us on our journey, brother, then do so, by all means,” Raistlin said coldly. “Most people find a water skin to be more convenient.”
“What journey?” Caramon asked.
“The one we are undertaking in the morning,” Raistlin returned. He thrust the water skin at Caramon.
“Here, take this!”
“Where are we going?” Caramon kept his hands at his sides.
“Oh, come, now, Caramon! Even you can’t be that stupid!” Raistlin flung the water skin at his brother’s feet. “Do as I say. We will make an early start, and I want to study my spells before I sleep. We’ll need food, too.”
Raistlin sat down in the only chair in the cave. He picked up his spellbook and opened it. After a moment, however, he shut that book and, reaching deep into his pouch, drew out another—the spellbook with the night-blue binding. He did not open it but held it in his hand.
“We’re going to Skullcap, aren’t we?” said Caramon.
Raistlin didn’t answer. He kept his hand on the closed book.
“You don’t even know where it is!” Caramon said.
Raistlin looked up at his brother. His golden eyes gleamed strangely in the staff’s magical light.
“That’s just it, Caramon,” he said softly. “I do know where it is. I know the location and I know how to reach it. I don’t know why …” His voice trailed off.
“Why what?” Caramon demanded, bewildered.
“Why I know … or how I know. It’s strange, as if I’ve been there before.”
Caramon was unhappy. “Put that book away, Raist, and forget about this. The trip will be too hard for you. We can’t climb the mountain—”
“We don’t have to,” said Raistlin.
“Even if the snow ends,” Caramon continued, “the trip will be cold, wet, and dangerous. What if that Verminaard comes again and catches us out in open?”
“He won’t, because we won’t be in the open.” Raistlin glared at his twin. “Quit arguing and go fill the water skin!”
Caramon shook his head. “No,” he said. “I won’t.” Raistlin drew in a seething breath, then, suddenly, he let it out.
“My brother,” said Raistlin gently, “if we do not make this journey, Tanis and Flint will not find the gate, much less make their way inside the mountain.”
Caramon looked into his twin’s face. “Are you sure about that?”
“As sure as the death that awaits them, that awaits us all if they fail,” said Raistlin, his gaze unwavering.
Caramon heaved a deep sigh. Reaching down, he picked up the water skin and went back out into the snow-filled night.
Raistlin relaxed in his chair. He put aside the night-blue spellbook and opened up his own.
“What a simple soul you are, my brother,” he remarked in scathing tones.
As he left the cave, Caramon caught a glimpse of Sturm standing nearby. Caramon knew perfectly well why Sturm was here. He had seen the knight watching them. Sturm would never stoop to spying on his friends or his enemies, for that matter. Such a dishonorable act went against the Code and the Measure, the rigid guidelines by which a Solamnic knight lived his life. The Oath and the Measure said nothing about friendly persuasion, however. Sturm was here to waylay Caramon and “persuade” the truth out of him.
Caramon was hopeless at keeping secrets and worse still at lying. If he told Sturm that Raistlin was planning to go to Skullcap, Sturm would tell Tanis, and the gods alone knew what would come of it—a bitter argument at the least, a fatal breach between long-time friends at the worst. Caramon wished Sturm would just let the matter go.
A furious flurry of snow allowed him to conceal his movements, and he went the long way down the slope to the stream. The flurry ceased. The clouds parted, and the stars came out. Glancing back, he could see Sturm silhouetted in Solinari’s silver light, still roaming about outside the twins’ cave.
He’ll give up after awhile, Caramon reasoned, and go to bed.
Caramon didn’t like Raistlin’s plan to go to this haunted Skullcap place, but he trusted his twin and believed Raistlin’s argument that the journey was necessary to save lives. Caramon knew he was alone in his trust for his twin. Well, not quite. Tanis often turned to Raistlin for advice, and it was this knowledge more than his twin’s reasoning that had induced Caramon to finally go along with his twin’s scheme.
“Tanis would sanction our going, if he had time to think about it,” Caramon reasoned to himself. “Everything’s happened so fast, that’s all, and Tanis has too much to worry about as it is.”
As for how Raistlin knew where to find Skullcap and how he planned to get there, Caramon knew better than to ask, figuring he wouldn’t understand anyway. He had never understood his twin, not when they were little children and certainly not now. The terrible Test in the Tower of High Sorcery had forever changed his brother in ways that Caramon could not fathom.
The Test had forever changed their relationship as well. The one secret Caramon kept was the secret he’d learned about his twin in the Tower. That secret was dark and appalling, and Caramon kept it mainly because he never let himself think about it.
Having safely
avoided Sturm, Caramon lifted his head and breathed in the cool, crisp air. He felt better out in the open, away from all the voices. Here he could think. Caramon was not stupid, as some believed. Caramon liked to consider a problem from all angles, ruminate, mull it over, and this often gave him the appearance of being slow. He rarely shared his thoughts with others, fearing their mockery. No one had been more surprised than Caramon when his friends had lauded his idea of having Raistlin use his magic to create an avalanche to block the pass.
Caramon felt so much better out here by himself that, when another flurry struck, he stuck out his tongue to catch the snowflakes, as he’d done when a child. Snow always made him feel like a kid again. If the snow fall had been deeper, he would have been tempted to lie down on his back, flap his arms and legs, and make a snow-bird. The snow wasn’t deep enough yet, though, and didn’t look as if it would be. Stars glittered beneath the clouds.
Negotiating his way around an outcropping of rock, trying to keep his footing, Caramon nearly ran headlong into Tika.
“Caramon!” she said, pleased.
“Tika!” exclaimed Caramon, alarmed.
He felt like the warrior in the adage who had avoided the kobolds only to fall victim to goblins. He’d managed to evade Sturm’s questioning, but if there was one person in this world who could wrap him around her red curls and wheedle whatever she wanted out of him, it was Tika Waylan.
“What are you doing out in the night?” she asked.
Caramon held up the water skin. “Fetching water.”
He shuffled his big feet a moment then said abruptly, “I’ve got to go now!” and started to walk off.
“I’m going to the stream myself,” said Tika, catching up with him. “I’m afraid of getting lost in the snow.” She slid her hand through his arm. “I’m not afraid when I’m with you, though.”
Caramon quivered from head to toe. He had once thought Tika Waylan the ugliest little girl he’d ever seen and the greatest nuisance ever born. He’d gone away for five years, doing mercenary work with his twin, and come back to find Tika the most attractive, wonderful woman he’d ever known, and he’d known quite a few.
Big, handsome, and brawny, with a cheerful smile and good-hearted nature, Caramon had never lacked female companionship. Girls liked him and he liked them. He’d indulged in numerous dalliances with countless women, spent more time snuggling in barn lofts and behind hay mounds than he could count. No woman had ever touched his heart, however. Not until Tika. And she hadn’t really touched his heart—his heart had jumped out of his chest to land plop at her feet.
He wanted to be a better person for her. He wanted to be smarter, braver, yet every time he was with her, he went all addled and befuddled, especially when she pressed her body up close against his, like she was now. Caramon recalled a talk he’d had with Goldmoon. The older woman had warned him that although Tika talked and acted like a worldly woman, she was, in truth, young and innocent. Caramon must not take advantage of her or he would hurt her deeply. Caramon was determined to keep himself under strict control, but this was very hard when Tika looked at him as she was looking at him now, with snow sparkling on her red curls and her cheeks rosy with the cold and her green eyes shining.
Caramon suddenly began to suspect that she not had been out here to go the stream. She had no bucket and she certainly wasn’t going to bathe. She was going to the stream because she wanted to be with him, and while this warmed him like spiced wine, the knowledge only added to his confusion.
They walked together in silence. Tika kept glancing at him, waiting for him to speak. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and then, of course, she said the worst thing possible.
“I hear your brother wanted to go off to some terrible fortress called Skullcap, but Tanis wouldn’t let him.” Tika shivered and pressed even closer to him. “I’m glad you’re not going.”
Caramon mumbled something unintelligible and kept walking. His face burned. He probably had guilt written on his forehead in letters so large a gully dwarf could read them. He saw her glance at the water skin and saw her green eyes narrow. Caramon groaned inwardly.
Tika dropped his arm. She stepped back away from him to smite him with the full force of her red-haired fury.
“You’re going, aren’t you?!” she cried. “You’re going to that dreadful place that everyone knows is haunted!”
Caramon made a feeble protest. “It’s not haunted.”
He realized a split second later that he should have denied going at all, but he couldn’t think around her.
“Ah ha! You admit it! Flint says Skullcap’s haunted!” Tika returned. “He should know. He was born and raised around these parts. Does Tanis know you’re leaving?” She answered her own question. “Of course not. So you were going to go off and get yourself killed and never even say goodbye to me!”
Caramon had no idea where to begin to refute all these charges Finally, he said lamely, “I’m not going to get myself killed. Raist says—”
“Raist says!” Tika mimicked him. “Why is Raistlin going? Because it has something to do with that wizard, Fistanpoopus or whatever his name is. The one you told me about. The evil wizard who wore the Black Robes and whose wicked book Raistlin is carrying around with him. Laurana told me what Flint said about Skullcap. Only she didn’t know what I know and what you know—that Raistlin has some sort of strange connection to this dead wizard.”
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Caramon asked fearfully. “You didn’t tell anyone?”
“No, I didn’t, but maybe I should.”
Tika faced him, head flung back, green eyes flaring. “If you love me, Caramon, you won’t go. You’ll tell that brother of yours that he can find someone else to risk his life for him and do his fetching and carrying and make his stupid tea!”
“I do love you, Tika,” said Caramon desperately, “but Raist is my brother. We’re all each of us has, and he says this is important. That the lives of all these people depend on it.”
“And you believe him!” Tika scoffed.
“Yes,” said Caramon with simple dignity. “I do.”
Tika’s eyes overflowed with tears, which spilled down her freckled cheeks. “I hope a ghost sucks your blood dry!” she sobbed angrily, and ran off.
“Tika!” Caramon called, heart-sick.
She did not look back but kept running, slipping and stumbling over the snow-slick rocks.
Caramon wanted desperately to go after her, but he didn’t. For what could he say? He could not give her what she wanted. He could not give up his brother for her, no matter how much he adored her. Raistlin must always come first. Tika was strong. Raistlin was weak, fragile, feeble.
“He needs me,” Caramon said to himself. “He relies on me and depends on me. If I wasn’t there for him, he might die, just like when he was little. She doesn’t understand.”
He continued heading for the stream in order to fill the water skin, even though now they wouldn’t be going. Tika would go straight to Tanis, then Tanis would go to Raistlin and forbid him to leave, and Raistlin would know Caramon had spilled the beans. If Caramon dawdled, perhaps his brother’s fury would have cooled by the time he got back.
Caramon doubted it, but there was always that chance.
6
Sneaking off. Eyes in the sky.
Laundry day.
aramon paused outside the cave to steel himself, then shoved aside the screen and went in.
“Raist, I’m sorry …”
He halted. His twin was sound asleep, wrapped in his blanket, his hand resting on the staff that never left his side. The pack containing his spellbooks was by the entrance. Caramon’s pack was there, as well. All in readiness for an early departure.
A wave of relief flooded through Caramon.
Tika hadn’t told Tanis! Perhaps she did understand, after all!
Moving as quietly as he could, Caramon deposited the full water skin on the floor, then stripped off his shirt, lay down, and his
conscience clear, was almost immediately asleep.
His brother’s hand shaking him by the shoulder woke him.
“Keep quiet!” Raistlin whispered. “Make haste! I want to be away before anyone is stirring!”
“What about breakfast?” Caramon asked.
Raistlin flashed him a disgusted glance.
“Well, I’m hungry,” Caramon said.
“We will eat on the road,” Raistlin returned.
Caramon sighed. Hefting the two packs and the water skin, he followed his brother out of the cave. The sky was black and glittering with stars. The air was cold and sharp, prickling the inside of the lungs. The snow had stopped during the night after dusting the ground. Clouds were massing over the mountains, however. There would be more snow before the day was out.
Solinari, the silver moon, was a curved blade in the sky. Lunitari, the red moon, and Raistlin’s patron goddess of magic, was three-quarters full. Her red light cast eerie shadows on the snow. Raistlin looked up at the red moon and smiled.
“The goddess lights our way to dawn,” he said. “A good omen.”
Caramon hoped his twin was right. Now that they were committed to this, Caramon wanted to get as far away from the others as fast as possible. Raistlin, fortunately, was having one of his good days. He hardly coughed at all. He moved nimbly and rapidly along the trail.
They made good time, descending the mountainside to the valley floor and heading off to the southwest. Reaching a forested area, they walked among the trees and were soon out of sight of the encampment and any early risers.
Caramon was breathing easier when a rattle of armor and a clash of metal on metal caused him to drop the packs and reach for his sword. Raistlin’s hand went to his pouch of spell components.
Sturm Brightblade stepped out from the red-tinged shadows of the tree branches. He stood in the path, blocking their way.
Dragons of the Dwarven Depths Page 8
