Margaret Weis - Time of the Twins

Wishing Laurana were here to discuss such matters, Tanis suggested softly, “Maybe a—um—baby?”

“I was pregnant, last summer,” Tika said dully, leaning her head on her hand. “But not for long. I miscarried. Caramon never even knew. Since then”—she stared down at the wooden table—“well, we haven’t been sleeping in the same room.”

Flushing in embarrassment, Tanis could do nothing more than pat her hand and hurriedly change the subject. “You said a moment before 'it had something to do with—’... with what?”

Tika shivered, then took another drink of wine. “Rumors started, then, Tanis,” she said in a low, hushed voice. “Dark rumors. You can guess who they were about!”

Tanis nodded.

“Caramon wrote to him, Tanis. I saw the letter. It was—it tore my heart. Not a word of blame or reproach. It was filled with love. He begged his brother to come back and live with us. He pleaded with him to turn his back on the darkness.”

“And what happened?” Tanis asked, though he already guessed the answer.

“It came back,” Tika whispered. “Unopened. The seal wasn’t even broken. And on the outside was written, 'I have no brother. I know no one named Caramon.’ And it was signed, Raistlin!”

“Raistlin!” Crysania looked at Tika, as if seeing her for the first time. Her gray eyes were wide and startled as they went from the red-haired young woman to Tanis, then to the huge warrior on the floor, who belched comfortably in his drunken sleep. “Caramon... This is Caramon Majere? This is his brother? The twin you were telling me about? The man who could guide me—”

“I’m sorry, Revered Daughter,” Tanis said, flushing. “I had no idea he—”

“But Raistlin is so... intelligent, powerful. I thought his twin must be the same. Raistlin is sensitive, he exerts such strong control over himself and those who serve him. He is a perfectionist, while this”—Crysania gestured—“this pathetic wretch, while he deserves our pity and our prayers, is—”

“Your 'sensitive and intelligent perfectionist’ had a hand in making this man the 'pathetic wretch’ you see, Revered Daughter,” Tanis said acidly, keeping his anger carefully under control.

“Perhaps it was the other way around,” Crysania said, regarding Tanis coldly. “Perhaps it was for lack of love that Raistlin turned from the light to walk in darkness.”

Tika looked up at Crysania, an odd expression in her eyes. “Lack of love?” she repeated gently.

Caramon moaned in his sleep and began thrashing about on the floor. Tika rose quickly to her feet.

“We better get him home.” She glanced up to see Riverwind’s tall figure appear in the doorway, then turned to Tanis. “I’ll see you in the morning, won’t... Couldn’t you stay... just overnight?”

Tanis looked at her pleading eyes and felt like biting off his tongue before he answered. But there was no help for it. “I’m sorry, Tika,” he said, taking her hands. “I wish I could, but I must go. It is a long ride to Qualinost from here, and I dare not be late. The fate of two kingdoms, perhaps, depends on my being there.”

“I understand,” Tika said softly. “This isn’t your problem anyway. I’ll cope.”

Tanis could have torn out his beard with frustration. He longed to stay and help, if he even could help. At least he might talk with Caramon, try to get some sense into that thick skull. But Porthios would take it as a personal affront if Tanis did not come to the funeral, which would affect not only his personal relationships with Laurana’s brother, but would affect the treaty of alliance being negotiated between Qualinesti and Solamnia.

And then, his eyes going to Crysania, Tanis realized he had another problem. He groaned inwardly. He couldn’t take her to Qualinost. Porthios had no use for human clerics.

“Look,” Tanis said, suddenly getting an idea, “I’ll come back, after the funeral.” Tika’s eyes brightened. He turned to Lady Crysania. “I’ll leave you here, Revered Daughter. You’ll be safe in this town, in the Inn, Then I can escort you back to Palanthas since your journey has failed—”

“My journey has not failed,” Crysania said resolutely. “I will continue as I began. I intend to go to the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth, there to council with Par-Salian of the White Robes.”

Tanis shook his head. “I cannot take you there,” he said. “And Caramon obviously is incapable. Therefore I suggest—”

“Yes,” Crysania interrupted complacently. “Caramon is clearly incapacitated. Therefore I will wait for the kender friend of yours to meet me here with the person he was sent to find, then I will continue on my own.”

“Absolutely not!” Tanis shouted. Riverwind raised his eye-brows, reminding Tanis who he was addressing. With an effort, the half-elf regained control. “My lady, you have no idea of the danger! Besides those dark things that pursued us—and I think we all know who sent them—I’ve heard Caramon’s stories about the Forest of Wayreth. It’s darker still! We’ll go back to Palanthas, I’ll find some Knights—”

For the first time, Tanis saw a pale stain of color touch Crysania’s marble cheeks. Her dark brows contracted as she seemed to be thinking. Then her face cleared. Looking up at Tanis, she smiled.

“There is no danger,” she said. “I am in Paladine’s hands. The dark creatures may have been sent by Raistlin, but they have no power to harm me! They have merely strengthened my resolve.” Seeing Tanis’s face grow even grimmer, she sighed. “I promise this much. I will think about it. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps the journey is too dangerous—”

“And a waste of time!” Tanis muttered, sorrow and exhaustion making him speak bluntly what he had felt all along about this woman’s crazy scheme. “If Par-Salian could have destroyed Raistlin, he would have done it long before—”

“Destroy!” Crysania regarded Tanis in shock, her gray eyes cold. “I do not seek his destruction.”

Tanis stared at her in amazement.

“I seek to reclaim him,” Crysania continued. “I will go to my rooms now, if someone will be so kind as to guide me to them.”

Dezra hurried forward. Crysania calmly bade them all good-night, then followed Dezra from the room. Tanis gazed after her, totally at a loss for words. He heard Riverwind mutter something in Que-shu. Then Caramon groaned again. Riverwind nudged Tanis. Together they bent over the slumbering Caramon and—with an effort—hauled the big man to his feet.

“Name of the Abyss, he’s heavy!” Tanis gasped, staggering under the man’s dead weight as Caramon’s flacid arms flopped over his shoulders. The putrid smell of the dwarf spirit made him gag.

“How can he drink that stuff?” Tanis said to Riverwind as the two dragged the drunken man to the door, Tika following along anxiously behind.

“I saw a warrior fall victim to that curse once,” Riverwind grunted. “He perished leaping over a cliff, being chased by creatures that were there only in his mind.”

“I should stay—” Tanis murmured.

“You cannot fight another’s battle, my friend,” Riverwind said firmly. “Especially when it is between a man and his own soul.”

It was past midnight when Tanis and Riverwind had Caramon safely at home and dumped—unceremoniously—into his bed. Tanis had never been so tired in his life. His shoulders ached from carrying the dead weight of the giant warrior. He was worn out and felt drained, his memories of the past—once pleasant—were now like old wounds, open and bleeding. And he still had hours to ride before morning.

“I wish I could stay,” he repeated again to Tika as they stood together with Riverwind outside her door, gazing out over the sleeping, peaceful town of Solace. “I feel responsible—”