Time of the Twins

I don’t want it to be up to me! Tas wailed, then waited for a moment to see if the voice answered. It didn’t. He was alone.

“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 liquor-soaked 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.

7

Sing as the spirits move you, 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.