"Caramon," Tas said, making his voice as deep as possible and trying very hard to sound like Tanis, "look, just come with us as far as the edges of the Forest of Wayreth. Then you can go home. We'll probably be safe after that—”
But Caramon wasn't listening. Awash in liquor and self-pity, he collapsed onto the ground. Leaning back against a tree, he babbled incoherently about nameless horrors, begging Tika to take him back.
Bupu stood up and came to stand in front of the big warrior. "Me go," she said in disgust. "Me want fat, slobbering drunk, me find plenty back home." Nodding her head, she started off down the path. Tas ran after her, caught her, and dragged her back.
"No, Bupu! You can't! We're almost there!"
Suddenly Tasslehoff's patience ran out. Tanis wasn't here. No one was here to help. It was just like the time when he'd broken the dragon orb. Maybe what he was doing wasn't the right thing, but it was the only thing he could think of to do.
Tas walked up and kicked Caramon in the shins.
"Ouch!" Caramon gulped. Startled, he stared at Tas, a hurt and puzzled look on his face. "What'dya do that for?"
In answer, Tas kicked him again, hard. Groaning, Caramon grabbed his leg.
"Hey, now we have some fun," Bupu said. Running forward gleefully, she kicked Caramon in the other leg. "Me stay now."
The big man roared. Blundering to his feet, he glared at Tas. "Blast it, Burrfoot, if this is one of your games—”
"It's no game, you big ox!" the kender shouted. "I've decided to kick some sense into you, that's all! I've had enough of your whining! All you've done, all these years, is whine! The noble Caramon, sacrificing everything for his ungrateful brother. Loving Caramon, always putting Raistlin first! Well—maybe you did and maybe you didn't. I'm starting to think you always put Caramon first! And maybe Raistlin knew, deep inside, what I'm just beginning to figure out! You only did it because it made you feel good! Raistlin didn't need you—you needed him! You lived his life because you're too scared to live a life of your own!"
Caramon's eyes glowed feverishly, his face paled with anger. Slowly, he stood up, his big fists clenched. "You've gone too far this time, you little bastard—”
"Have I?" Tas was screaming now, jumping up and down. "Well, listen to this, Caramon! You're always blubbering about how no one needs you. Did you ever stop to think that Raistlin needs you now more than he's ever needed you before? And Lady Crysania—she needs you! And there you stand, a big blob of quivering jelly with your brain all soaked and turned to mush!"
Tasslehoff thought for a moment he had gone too far. Caramon took an unsteady step forward, his face blotched and mottled and ugly. Bupu gave a yelp and ducked behind Tas. The kender stood his ground—just as he had when the furious elf lords had been about to slice him in two for breaking the dragon orb. Caramon loomed over him, the big man's liquorsoaked breath nearly making Tas gag. Involuntarily, he closed his eyes. Not from fear, but from the look of terrible anguish and rage on Caramon's face.
He stood, braced, waiting for the blow that would likely smash his nose back through to the other side of his head.
But the blow never fell. There was the sound of tree limbs ripping apart, huge feet stomping through dense brush.
Cautiously, Tas opened his eyes. Caramon was gone, crashing down the trail into the forest. Sighing, Tas stared after him. Bupu crept out from behind his back.
"That fun," she announced. "I stay after all. Maybe we play game again?"
"I don't think so, Bupu," Tas said miserably. "Come on. I guess we better go after him."
"Oh, well," the gully dwarf reflected philosophically. "Some other game come along, just as fun."
"Yeah," Tas agreed absently. Turning around, afraid that perhaps someone in the wretched inn had overheard and might start trouble, the kender's eyes opened wide.
The Cracked Mug tavern was gone. The dilapidated building, the sign swinging on one chain, the dwarves, the rangers, the bartender, even the glass Caramon had lifted to his lips. All had disappeared into the midafternoon air like an evil dream upon awakening.
Sing to your doubling eye,
Plain Jane becomes Lovable Lindas
When six moons shine in the sky.
Sing to a sailor's courage,
Sing while the elbows bend,
A ruby port your harbor,
Hoist three sheets to the wind.
Sing while the heart is cordial,
Sing to the absinthe of cares,
Sing to the one for the weaving road,
And the dog, and each of his hairs.
All of the waitresses love you,
Every dog is your friend,
Whatever you say is just what you mean,
So hoist three sheets to the wind.
By evening, Caramon was roaring drunk.
Tasslehoff and Bupu caught up with the big man as he was standing in the middle of the trail, draining the last of the dwarf spirits from the flask. He leaned his head back, tilting it to get every drop. When he finally lowered the flask, it was to peer inside it in disappointment. Wobbling unsteadily on his feet, he shook it.
"All gone," Tas heard him mumble unhappily.
The kender's heart sank.
"Now I've done it," Tas said to himself in misery. "I can't tell him about the disappearing inn. Not when he's in this condition! I've only made things worse!"
But he hadn't realized quite how much worse until he came up to Caramon and tapped him on the shoulder. The big man whirled around in drunken alarm.
"What ish it? Who'sh there?" He peered around the rapidly darkening forest.
"Me, down here," said Tas in a small voice. "I—I just wanted to say I was sorry, Caramon, and—”
"Uh? Oh . . ." Staggering backwards, Caramon stared at him, then grinned foolishly. "Oh, hullo there, little fellow. A kender"—his gaze wandered to Bupu—"and a gu-gul-gullgullydorf," he finished with a rush. He bowed. "Whashyournames?"
"What?" Tas asked.
"Whashyournames?" Caramon repeated with dignity.
"You know me, Caramon," Tas said, puzzled. "I'm Tasslehoff."
"Me Bupu," answered the gully dwarf, her face lighting up, obviously hoping this was another game. "Who youl"
"You know who he is," Tas began irritably, then nearly swallowed his tongue as Caramon interrupted.
"I'm Raistlin," said the big man solemnly with another, unsteadybow."A—agreatandpow—pow—powerfulmagicuser."
"Oh, come off it, Caramon!" Tas said in disgust. "I said I was sorry, so don't—”
"Caramon?" The big man's eyes opened wide, then narrowed shrewdly. "Caramon's dead. I killed him. Long ago in the Tow—the Twowr—the TwerHighSorshry."
"By Reorx's beard!" Tas breathed.
"Him not Raistlin!" snorted Bupu. Then she paused, eyeing him dubiously. "Is him?"
"N-no! Of course not," Tasslehoff snapped.
"This not fun game!" Bupu said with firm decision. "Me no like! Him not pretty man so nice to me. Him fat drunk. Me go home." She looked around. "Which way home?"
"Not now, Bupu!" What was going on? Tas wondered bleakly. Clutching at his topknot, he gave his hair a hard yank. His eyes watered with the pain, and the kender sighed in relief. For a moment, he thought he'd fallen asleep without knowing it and was walking around in some weird dream.
But apparently it was all real—too real. Or at least for him.
For Caramon, it was quite a different story.
"Watch," Caramon was saying solemnly, weaving back and forth. "I'll casht a magicshpell." Raising his hands, he blurted out a string of gibberish. "Ashanddust and ratsnests! Burrung!" He pointed at a tree. "Poof," he whispered, stumbling backward. "Up in flames! Up! Up! Burning, burning, burning . . . jusht like poor Caramon." He staggered forward, wobbling down the trail.
"All of the waitresshes love you," he sang. "Every dog ish your friend. Whatever you shay is jusht what you m-mean—”
Wringing his hands, Tas hurried after him. Bupu trotted along behind.
"Tree not burn," she said to Tas sternly.
"I know!" Tas groaned. "It's just . . . he thinks—”
"Him one bad magician. My turn." Rummaging around in the huge bag that kept tripping her periodically, Bupu gave a triumphant yell and pulled out a very stiff, very dead rat.
"Not now, Bupu—” Tas began, feeling what was left of his own sanity start to slip. Caramon, ahead of them, had quit singing and was shouting something about covering the forest in cobwebs.
"I going to say secret magic word," Bupu stated. "You no listen. Spoil secret."
"I won't listen," Tas said impatiently, trying to catch up with Caramon, who, for all his wobbling, was moving along at a fair rate of speed.
"You listening?" Bupu asked, panting along after him.
"No," Tas said, sighing.
"Why not?"
"You told me not to!" Tas shouted in exasperation.
"But how you know when to no listen if you no listen?" Bupu demanded angrily. "You try to steal secret magic word! Me go home."
The gully dwarf came to a dead stop, turned around, and trotted back down the path. Tas skidded to a halt. He could see Caramon now, clinging to a tree, conjuring up a host of dragons, by the sounds of it. The big man looked like he would stay put for a while at least. Cursing under his breath, the kender turned and ran after the gully dwarf.
"Stop, Bupu!" he cried frantically, catching hold of a handful of filthy rags that he mistook for her shoulder. 'I swear, I'd never steal your secret magic word!"
"You stole it!" she shrieked, waving the dead rat at him. "You said it!"
"Said what?" Tasslehoff asked, completely baffled.
"Secret magic word! You say!" Bupu screamed in outrage. "Here! Look!" Holding out the dead rat, she pointed ahead of them, down the trail, and yelled, "I say secret magic word now—secret magic word! There. Now we see some hot magic."
Tas put his hand to his head. He felt giddy.
"Look! Look!" Bupu shouted in triumph, pointing a grubby finger. "See? I start fire. Secret magic word never fail. Umphf. Some bad magic-user—him."
Glancing down the path, Tas blinked. There were flames visible ahead of them on the trail.
"I'm definitely going back to Kenderhome," Tas mused quietly to himself. "I'll get a little house . . . or maybe move in with the folks for a few months until I feel better."
"Who's out there?" called a clear, crystalline voice.
Relief flooded over Tasslehoff. "It's a campfire!" he babbled, nearly hysterical with joy. And the voice! He hurried foward, running through the darkness toward the light. "It's me— Tasslehotf Burrfoot. I've—oof!"
The "oof" was occasioned by Caramon plucking the kender off of his feet, lifting him in his strong arms, and clapping his hand over Tas's mouth.
"Shhhh," whispered Caramon close to Tas's ear. The fumes from his breath made the kender's head swim. "There's shomeone out there!"
"Mpf blsxtchscat!" Tas wriggled frantically, trying to loosen Caramon's hold. The kender was slowly being smothered to death.
"That's who I thought it was," Caramon whispered, nodding to himself solemnly as his hand clamped even more firmly over the kender's mouth.
Tas began to see bright blue stars. He fought desperately, tearing at Caramon's hands with all his strength, but it would have been the end of the kender's brief but exciting life had not Bupu suddenly appeared at Caramon's feet.
"Secret magic word!" she shrieked, thrusting the dead rat into Caramon's face. The distant firelight was reflected in the corpse's black eyes and glittered off the sharp teeth fixed in a perpetual grin.
"Ayiii!" Caramon screamed and dropped the kender. Tas fell heavily to the ground, gasping for breath.
"What is going on out there?" said a cold voice.
"We've come . . . to rescue you . . .." said Tasslehoff, standing up dizzily.
A white-robed figure cloaked in furs appeared on the path in front of them. Bupu looked up at it in deep suspicion.
"Secret magic word," said the gully dwarf, waving the dead rat at the Revered Daughter of Paladine.
"You'll forgive me if I'm not wildly grateful," said Lady Crysania to Tasslehoff as they sat around the fire later that evening.
"I know. I'm sorry," Tasslehoff said, sitting hunched in misery on the ground. "I made a mess of things. I generally do," he continued woefully. "Ask anyone. I've often been told I drive people crazy—but this is the first time I ever did it for real!"
Snuffling, the kender' cast an anxious gaze at Caramon. The big man sat near the fire, huddled in his cape. Still under the influence of the potent dwarf spirits, he was now sometimes Caramon and sometimes Raistlin. As Caramon, he ate voraciously, cramming food into his mouth with gusto. He then regaled them with several bawdy ballads—to the delight of Bupu, who clapped along out of time and came in strong on the choruses. Tas was torn by a strong desire to giggle wildly or crawl beneath a rock and die in shame.
But, the kender decided with a shudder, he would take Caramon—bawdy songs and all—over Caramon/Raistlin. The transformation occurred suddenly, right in the middle of a song, in fact. The big man's frame collapsed, he began to cough, then—looking at them with narrow eyes—he coldly ordered himself to shut up.
"You didn't do this to him," Lady Crysania said to Tas, regarding Caramon with a cool gaze. "It is the drink. He is gross, thick-headed, and obviously lacking in self-control. He has let his appetites rule him. Odd, isn't it, that he and Raistlin are twins'? His brother is so much in control, so disciplined, intelligent, and refined."
She shrugged. "Oh, there is no doubt this poor man is to be greatly pitied." Standing up, she walked over to where her horse was tethered and began to unstrap her bedroll from its place behind her saddle. "I shall remember him in my prayers to Paladine."
"I'm sure prayers won't hurt," Tas said dubiously, "but I think some strong tarbean tea might be better just now."
Lady Crysania turned and regarded the kender with a reproving stare. "I am certain you did not mean to blaspheme. Therefore I will take your statement in the sense it was uttered. Do endeavor to look at things with a more serious attitude, however."
"I was serious," Tas protested. "All Caramon needs is a few mugs of good, thick tarbean tea—”
Lady Crysania's dark eyebrows rose so sharply that Tas fell silent, though he hadn't the vaguest idea what he had said to upset her. He began to unpack his own blankets, his spirits just about as low as he could ever remember them being. He felt just as he had when he had ridden dragonback with Flint during the Battle of Estwilde Plains. The dragon had soared into the clouds, then it dove out, spinning round and round. For a few moments, up had been down, sky had been below, ground above, and then—whoosh! into a cloud, and everything was lost in the haze.
His mind felt just like it did then. Lady Crysania admired Raistlin and pitied Caramon. Tas wasn’t certain, but that seemed all backward. Then there was Caramon who was Caramon and then wasn't Caramon. Inns that were there one minute and gone the next. A secret magic word he was supposed to listen for so he'd know when not to listen. Then he'd made a perfectly logical, common-sense suggestion about tarbean tea and been reprimanded for blasphemy!
"After all," he mumbled to himself, jerking at his blankets, "Paladine and I are close personal friends. He'd know what I meant."
Sighing, the kender pillowed his head upon a rolled-up cloak.Bupu—now quite convinced that Caramon was Raistlin—was sound asleep, curled up with her head resting adoringly on the big man's foot. Caramon himself was sitting quietly now, his eyes closed, humming a song to himself. Occasionally he would cough, and once he demanded in a loud voice that Tas bring him his spellbook so that he could study his magic. But he seemed peaceful enough. Tas hoped he would soon dose and sleep off the effects of the dwarf spirits.
The fire burned low. Lady Crysania spread out her blankets on a bed of pine needles she had gathered to keep out the damp. Tas yawned. She was certainly getting on better than he'd expected. She had chosen a good, sensible location to make camp—near the trail, a stream of clear running water close by. Just as well not to have to wander too far in these dark and spooky woods -
Spooky wood . . . what did that remind him of, Tas caught himself as he was slipping over the edge of sleep. Something important. Spooky wood. Spooks . . . talk to spooks . . .
"Darken Wood!" he said in alarm, sitting bolt upright.
"What?" asked Lady Crysania, wrapping her cloak around her and preparing to lie down.
"Darken Wood!" Tas repeated in alarm. He was now thoroughly awake. "We're close to Darken Wood. We came to warn you! It's a horrible place. You might have blundered into it. Maybe we're in it already—”
"Darken Wood?" Caramon's eyes flared open. He stared around him vaguely.
"Nonsense,” Lady Crysania said comfortably, adjusting beneath her head a small traveling pillow she had brought with her. "We are not in Darken Wood, not yet. It is about five miles distant. Tomorrow we will come to a path that will take us there."