Raistlin snorted. “Don’t be a fool, Caramon. It was a simple cantrip, one that will prevent the kender from removing the necklace. As for the danger, he’s in less danger than either you or I would be, wearing that charm.
Bnotrjens
No one takes kender seriously. They’ll assume he found it and put it on for a lark. We must watch for those who might take an unusual interest in it.”
“I don’t like it, Raist,” persisted Caramon with unusual stubbornness.
“I didn’t like being nearly murdered in my sleep!” his twin snapped. He rose to his feet, leaning on the magical staff. “Come along. It’s time we were going. I want to get there before dark.”
‘There? Where? Mereklar?” Caramon scattered the coals of the fire with his booted foot and tossed water on them.
“No. The Inn of the Black Cat,”
Caramon never ceased to be amazed by his brother. Ever since the infamous test required of every mage who aspired to enter the higher realms of magic—the test that could prove lethal—Raistlin’s health had been shattered. His body was thin, barely skin and bones. He coughed persistently. Sometimes Caramon wondered fearfully if his brother would be able to draw another breath. Plagued by terrible dreams, Raistlin tossed and turned and often screamed aloud in his sleep. Some mornings, he was barely able to crawl from his bed.
Yet this morning, the young mage seemed unusually well. He walked with a brisk step, barely leaning on his staff. He had eaten—for him—a good breakfast consisting of bread and fruit. He had not needed to drink the herbal tea that soothed his cough nor breathe the fumes of the bag. His eyes were bright, glittering in the morning light.
“It’s this mystery,” Caramon said to himself. “He
DRAQONLANCE Pneluoes
thrives on intrigue. I’m glad Raist is handling it. Me — I’d rather face an army of goblins. I hate skulking about.”
The warrior heaved a sigh. He spent the day walking with his broadsword in hand, sending piercing, darting glances into the woods, expecting another ambush at any moment.
Caramon’s other companion was also enjoying himself. Earwig skipped down the path, twirling in the air the kender’s favorite weapon— the hoopak. A walking stick with a sling fitted to the yoke at the top, Earwig’s hoopak was unusual in that the top could be removed, turning the staff into a blowgun. It fired small, sharp, barbed darts that the kender carried in the inner right sleeve of his traveling outfit.
Earwig was, in fact, extremely fond of weapons of all sorts and prided himself on his collection. An unusual throwing knife with five blades curving out in separate directions was his pride and joy. He also carried another invention of his own — eggshells filled with special powders and liquids that could be released on impact. Besides these, he owned many other weapons, but usually forgot or absentmindedly exchanged them for other, more exciting, objects.
Earwig had been with the twins only a short time, but he was willing to follow them as they began new adventures. He was fascinated by the magician with the strange eyes and shining golden skin and was happy to be with someone so interesting and unique. The kender did feel sorry for Raistlin, however. The mage was so gloomy. Earwig took it upon himself, therefore, to regale the mage with tales of fantastic adventures in other parts of Krynn or stories he had heard from friends and relatives, trying to cheer Raistlin from the continual melancholy that surrounded him as heavily as his red robes.
The mage would simply ignore him or, if Raistlin was in a particularly bad mood, he would attempt to sweep
Bnotrjens Majene
Earwig out his way with his staff.
When this happened. Earwig would skip over to talk with Caramon, who was always interested in stories and had a few wild tales of his own that even the kender had difficulty believing.
Today, Earwig noted that Raistlin seemed unusually cheerful. The kender was determined to keep the conjurer in a good mood, so he began telling one of his favorite jokes.
“Hey, Raistlin,” he began, “have you ever heard of Dizzy Longtongue, the kender who could throw his hoopak with such skill and accuracy he could make it return to his hand? Well, one day a minotaur made a bet with the kender that he couldn’t throw his staff around the girth of a forest, and Dizzy said, ‘I’ll bet you the gold in my pocket against the ring in your nose that I can make my hoopak come back to me from around the forest.’ The minotaur accepted and said that if he didn’t make it, he would have Dizzy for dessert with dinner. Dizzy naturally agreed.”