Time of the Twins

“I’m afraid we’ll find out soon enough,” Denubis said in a stern voice, but holding Tas in such a gentle grip that the kender could easily have broken free. At first Tas considered escape—there was no better place in the world to hide than in a large city market. But the thought was a reflexive one, just like Caramon’s breaking away from the guard. Tas couldn’t leave his friend.

“They won’t hurt him, if he comes peacefully.” Denubis sighed. “Though if he’s done—” The cleric shivered and for a moment paused. “Well, if he’s done that, he might find an easier death here.”

“Done what?” Tas was growing more and more confused. Caramon, too, appeared confused, for Tas saw him raise his hands in a protestation of innocence.

But even as he argued, one of the guards came up behind the big man and struck him in the back of his knees with the shaft of his spear. Caramon’s legs buckled. As he staggered, the guard in front of him knocked the big man to the ground with an almost nonchalant blow to the chest.

Caramon hadn’t even hit the pavement before the point of the spear was at his throat. He lifted his hands feebly in a gesture of surrender. Quickly, the guards rolled him over onto his stomach and, grasping his hands, tied them behind his back with rapid expertise.

“Make them stop!” Tas cried, straining forward. “They can’t do that—”

The cleric caught him. “No, little friend, it would be best for you to stay with me. Please,” Denubis said, gently gripping Tas by the shoulders. “You cannot help him, and trying will only make things worse for you.”

The guards dragged Caramon to his feet and began to search him thoroughly, even reaching their hands down into his leather breeches. They found a dagger at his belt—this they handed to their captain—and a flagon of some sort. Opening the top, they sniffed and then tossed it away in disgust.

One of the guards motioned to the dark bundle on the pavement. The captain knelt down and lifted the cloak. Tas saw him shake his head. Then the captain, with the other guard’s help, carefully lifted the bundle and turned to walk out of the alley. He said something to Caramon as he passed. Tas heard the filthy word with riveting shock, as did Caramon, apparently, for the big man’s face went deathly white.

Glancing up at Denubis, Tas saw the cleric’s lips tighten, the fingers on Tas’s shoulder trembled.

Then Tas understood.

“No,” he whispered softly in agony, “oh, no! They can’t think that! Caramon wouldn’t harm a mouse! He didn’t hurt Lady Crysania! He was only trying to help her! That’s why we came here. Well, one reason anyway. Please!” Tas whirled around to face Denubis, clasping his hands together. “Please, you’ve got to believe me! Caramon’s a soldier. He’s killed things—sure. But only nasty things like draconians and goblins. Please, please believe me!”

But Denubis only looked at him sternly.

“No! How could you think that? I hate this place! I want to go back home!” Tas cried miserably, seeing Caramon’s stricken, confused expression. Bursting into tears, the kender buried his face in his hands and sobbed bitterly.

Then Tas felt a hand touch him, hesitate, then pat him gently.

“There, there, now,” Denubis said. “You’ll have a chance to tell your story. Your friend will, too. And, if you’re innocent, no harm will come to you.” But Tas heard the cleric sigh. “Your friend had been drinking, hadn’t he?”

“No!” Tas snuffled, looking up at Denubis pleadingly. “Not a drop, I swear...”

The kender’s voice died, however, at the sight of Caramon as the guards led him out of the alley into the street where Tas and the cleric stood. Caramon’s face was covered with muck and filth from the alley, blood dribbled from a cut on his lip. His eyes were wild and blood-shot, the expression on his face vacant and filled with fear. The legacy of past drinking bouts was marked plainly in his puffy, red cheeks and shaking limbs. A crowd, which had begun to form at the sight of the guards, began to jeer.

Tas hung his head. What was Par-Salian doing? he wondered in confusion, Had something gone wrong? Were they even in Istar? Were they lost somewhere? Or maybe this was some terrible nightmare...

“Who—What happened?” Denubis asked the captain. “Was the Dark One right?”

“Right? Of course, he was right. Have you ever known him to be wrong?” the captain snapped. “As for who—I don’t know who she is, but she’s a member of your order. Wears the medallion of Paladine around her neck. She’s hurt pretty bad, too. I thought she was dead, in fact, but there’s a faint lifebeat in her neck.”

“Do you think she was... she was...” Denubis faltered.

“I don’t know,” the captain said grimly. “But she’s been beaten up. She’s had some kind of fit, I guess. Her eyes are wide open, but she doesn’t seem to see or hear anything.”

“We must convey her to the Temple at once,” Denubis said briskly, though Tas heard a tremor in the man’s voice. The guards were dispersing the crowd, holding their spears in front of them and pushing back the curious.