Margaret Weis - Time of the Twins

“So that’s what happened to him,” Justarius said with a low whistle of surprise. “That was a well-kept secret.”

“They were fools to even try it,” Par-Salian said, “but they were desperate.”

“As are we,” Ladonna added bitterly. “Well, is there more?”

“Yes, the next page,” Par-Salian replied.

If the spellcaster is not going himself but is sending back another (please note racial precaution on previous page), he or she should equip the one traveling with a device that can be activated at will and so return the traveler to his own time. Descriptions of such devices and their making will be found following—

“And so forth,” Par-Salian said. The rainbow light disappeared, swallowed in the mage’s hand as Par-Salian wrapped his fingers around it. “The rest is devoted to the technical details of making such a device. I have an ancient one. I will give it to Caramon.”

His emphasis on the man’s name was unconscious, but everyone in the room noticed it. Ladonna smiled wryly, her hands softly caressing her black robes. Justarius shook his head. Par-Salian himself, realizing the implications, sank down in his chair, his face lined with sorrow.

“So Caramon will use it alone,” Justarius said. “I understand why we send Crysania, Par-Salian. She must go back, never to return. But Caramon?”

“Caramon is my redemption,” Par-Salian said without looking up. The old mage stared at his hands that lay, trembling, on the open spellbook. “He is going on a journey to save a soul, as I told him. But it will not be his brother’s.” Par-Salian looked up, his eyes filled with pain. His gaze went first to Justarius, then to Ladonna. Both met that gaze with complete understanding.

“The truth could destroy him,” Justarius said.

“There is very little left to destroy, if you ask me,” Ladonna remarked coldly. She rose to her feet. Justarius rose with her, staggering a little until he obtained his balance on his crippled leg. “As long as you get rid of the woman, I care little what you do about the man, Par-Salian. If you believe it will wash the blood from your robes, then help him, by all means.” She smiled grimly. “In a way, I find this quite funny. Maybe—as we get older—we aren’t so different after all, are we, my dear?”

“The differences are there, Ladonna,” Par-Salian said, smiling wearily. “It is the crisp, clear outlines that begin to fade and blur in our sight. Does this mean the Black Robes will go along with my decision?”

“It seems we have no choice,” Ladonna said without emotion. “If you fail—”

“Enjoy my downfall,” Par-Salian said wryly.

“I will,” the woman answered softly, “the more so as it will probably be the last thing I enjoy in this life. Farewell, Par-Salian.”

“Farewell, Ladonna,” he said.

“A wise woman,” Justarius remarked as the door shut behind her.

“A rival worthy of you, my friend.” Par-Salian returned to his seat behind the desk. “I will enjoy watching you two do battle for my position.”

“I sincerely hope you have the opportunity to do so,” Justarius said, his hand on the door. “When will you cast the spell?”

“Early morning,” Par-Salian said, speaking heavily. “It takes days of preparation. I have already spent long hours working on it.”

“What about assistance?”

“No one, not even an apprentice. I will be exhausted at the end. See to the disbanding of the Conclave, will you, my friend?”

“Certainly. And the kender and the gully dwarf?”

“Return the gully dwarf to her home with whatever small treasures you think she would like. As for the kender”—Par-Salian smiled—“you may send him wherever he would like to go—barring the moons, of course. As for treasure, I’m certain he will have acquired a sufficient amount before he leaves. Do a surreptitious check on his pouches, but, if it’s nothing important, let him keep what he finds.”

Justarius nodded. “And Dalamar?”

Par-Salian’s face grew grim. “The dark elf has undoubtedly left already. He would not want to keep his Shalafi waiting.” Par-Salian’s fingers drummed on the desk, his brow furrowed in frustration. “It is a strange charm Raistlin possesses! You never met him, did you? No. I felt it myself and I cannot understand...”

“Perhaps I can,” Justarius said. “We’ve all been laughed at one time in our lives. We’ve all been jealous of a sibling. We have felt pain and suffered, just as he has suffered. And we’ve all longed—just once—for the power to crush our enemies! We pity him. We hate him. We fear him—all because there is a little of him in each of us, though we admit it to ourselves only in the darkest part of the night.”

“If we admit it to ourselves at all. That wretched cleric! Why did she have to get involved!” Par-Salian clasped his head in his shaking hands.

“Farewell, my friend,” Justarius said gently. “I will wait for you outside the laboratory should you need help when it is all over.”

“Thank you,” Par-Salian whispered without raising his head.

Justarius limped from the study. Shutting the door too hastily, he caught the hem of his red robe and was forced to open it again to free himself. Before he closed the door again, he heard the sound of weeping.

Tasslehoff Burrfoot was bored.

And, as everyone knows, there is nothing more dangerous on Krynn than a bored kender.

Tas and Bupu and Caramon had finished their meal—a very dull one. Caramon, lost in his thoughts, never said a word but sat wrapped in bleak silence while absent-mindedly devouring nearly everything in sight. Bupu did not even sit. Grabbing a bowl, she scooped out the contents with her hands, shoveling it into her mouth with a rapidity learned long ago at gully dwarf dining tables. Putting that one down, she started on another and polished off a dish of gravy, the butter, the sugar and cream, and finally half a dish of milk potatoes before Tas realized what she was doing. He just barely saved a salt cellar.

“Well,” said Tas brightly. Pushing back his empty plate, he tried to ignore the sight of Bupu grabbing it and licking it clean. “I’m feeling much better. How about you, Caramon? Let’s go explore!”

“Explore!” Caramon gave him such a horrified look that Tas was momentarily taken aback. “Are you mad? I wouldn’t set foot outside that door for all the wealth in Krynn!”

“Really?” Tas asked eagerly. “Why not? Oh, tell me, Caramon! What’s out there?”

“I don’t know.” The big man shuddered. “But it’s bound to be awful.”

“I didn’t see any guards—”

“No, and there’s a damn good reason for that,” Caramon snarled. “Guards aren’t needed around here. I can see that look in your eye, Tasslehoff, and you just forget about it right now! Even if you could get out”—Caramon gave the door to the room a haunted look—“which I doubt, you’d probably walk into the arms of a lich or worse!”

Tas’s eyes opened wide. He managed, however, to squelch an exclamation of delight. Looking down at his shoes, he muttered, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Caramon. I’d forgotten where we were.”

“I guess you did,” Caramon said severely. Rubbing his aching shoulders, the big man groaned. “I’m dead tired. I’ve got to get some sleep. You and what’s—er—name there turn in, too. All right?”

“Sure, Caramon,” Tasslehoff said.

Bupu, belching contently, had already wrapped herself up in a rug before the fire, using the remainder of the bowl of milk potatoes for a pillow.

Caramon eyed the kender suspiciously. Tas assumed the most innocent look a kender could possibly assume, the result of which was that Caramon shook his finger at him sternly.