Caramon, glancing at them, saw that they were very close together. “The Great Eye!” he recalled aloud. The deepest part of the night, his brother had said. That is when all three will converge. . . and great magical power will be unleashed!
Earwig was searching around in the bushes when Caramon found him. “What are you looking for?” the warrior asked, bending down to help.
“A door.”
“A door? In a bush? Boy, your head must have really gotten cracked hard!”
281
DRAQONLANCE
“There it is!” the kender exclaimed, pulling up on a clump of grass that was growing over a wooden cover. The kender scooted down. Caramon peered inside. The door led to a staircase carved into the stone walls.
“Well, aren’t you coming?” Earwig asked, staring up at Caramon from out of the hole.
Heaving a great sigh, Caramon followed, sheathing his main-gauche but leaving his broadsword out, ready for action.
Earwig lit a small torch, throwing flickering yellow light against the walls. The passage was similar to those in the sewer, except these contained different pictures, and strange lines of gold, white, and black ran as far as his eye could see. Caramon reached out and touched a white line. He snatched his hand back in astonishment, shaking it vigorously.
“Hey! That burned me!”
“Cut it out, Caramon! We don’t have time for your nonsense!”
The kender tugged at the leather harness the fighter wore, attempting to drag his huge friend down the tunnel.
“All right, I’m coming! What’s the big hurry?”
“We have to get somewhere quickly. We … uh … we have to save the city! That’s it!”
“What do you mean, ‘save the city’? What’s going on?” the fighter demanded.
“Help me look for my amber meltings. On the floor,” Earwig said, dropping to his hands and knees, patting the ground with his palms. “Here they are! We go this way!” The kender ran down a corridor.
Caramon dashed after him, his concern over Earwig’s strange behavior now laced with fear. The kender’s little torch brought unnatural shadows to life, but the only sounds were the rapping of boot and shoe against the stone. Earwig outpaced his larger friend, running with
282
Bnotrjens Majene
ease through the maze of tunnels. The fighter, stumbling every once in a while when he caught his foot in a crack in the floor, was hard pressed to keep up. Suddenly, the kender’s light vanished altogether, and the warrior stopped, perplexed.
“Earwig! Where are you?”
“Over here, Caramon!” came the kender’s voice, strangely muffled, as if he were talking into his hand.
“Where?” The fighter turned in the darkness, trying to locate the other’s yell. “Is this one of your stupid games? Because—”
“Here I am!”
Using his sword’s hilt as a prod, Caramon walked with careful steps toward the direction of his companion’s voice. He bumped into walls several times, the metal of the blade clashing with loud, insensitive vibrations that made the warrior shudder nervously. He was completely blind. The darkness was impenetrable. Then, ahead, he saw a dim light. Torn between relief and the sincere desire to throttle the kender, Caramon stumbled forward and entered a room.
“Earwig. Are you in here?” the fighter called, staring with wonder at the dimly flickering torches.
He heard a puff of breath, then a metal dart struck him in the finger. Caramon fell forward, losing his grip on his sword.
He could see Earwig now, and he stared up at his friend, who was standing on a large stone dais, hoopak in hand. The top had been removed, turning it into a blowgun.
“That’s one of those poisoned darts, Caramon,” said the kender. “I found it on the floor the night the assassin came. You’ll be dead pretty soon.”
“Why?” Caramon managed weakly, feeling himself
283
DRAQONLANCE Pnelubes
begin to grow lightheaded. Heat rushed up from his arm to engulf his face and neck.
“You must die, Majere!” the kender hissed, his face twisted into an expression of cruel triumph. “Our plans cannot be stopped!”
Caramon fell to his knees, leaning back against the smooth, unmarked wall. His head bent to one side, black and silver stars flickered before his eyes. His mouth was dry, and his lips could barely shape the words.