Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

“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 snowbird. The snow wasn’t deep enough yet, though, and didn’t look as if it would be. Stars glittered beneath the clouds.