Earwig paused, waiting for some reaction from Raistlin. But the mage, occasionally coughing, kept his hooded gaze on the road.
The kender, shrugging, continued. “Dizzy took a hundred pace running start before he let go of his hoopak with a mighty zing!” Earwig imitated Dizzy’s magnificent throw, arcing his hoopak over his head without letting go, the sling-thong making an appropriate buzz. “Dizzy and the minotaur waited for hours, listening for the sound of the returning hoopak. After a day had passed, the minotaur said, ‘Well, my lad, it looks like I’m having you for afters,’ and Dizzy said—”
“Look, Caramon.” Raistlin raised the staff and pointed. “An inn.”
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“No, I don’t think that’s what Dizzy said.” Earwig scratched his head. ” ‘Look, Caramon, an inn,’ just doesn’t make sense, does it? Actually, what Dizzy said was—”
“I can’t see the sign.” Caramon peered through the trees.
“No, no, no!” Earwig cried, exasperated. “That wasn’t it, at all! And, if you must know, there’s a black cat on the sign. Now, if you’ll be quiet, I’ll tell you what Dizzy said to the minotaur who was about to eat him for dinner. He said—”
“Dinner,” said Raistlin softly. “I believe we should stop here for dinner and a night’s rest, my brother. Don’t you agree? It’s what you were wanting, after all.”
“Sure, Raist,” Caramon said without enthusiasm, eyeing the inn darkly. He thrust the broadsword back in its sheathe, but kept it loose in the scabbard.
Earwig, seeing these preparations, opened his eyes wide. “Oh, Caramon! Do you think there’s going to be trouble?”
The big man grunted. Raistlin, turning to Earwig with a smile, reached out his hand and arranged the kender’s necklace so that it was clearly visible on his small breast.
“Thanks, Raistlin,” said the kender, charmed. He couldn’t remember the mage being so attentive. He must like my jokes, he concluded inwardly. Aloud, he continued, “Dizzy said to the minotaur—”
But Raistlin and Caramon had both walked away.
The inn, a huge, two-story house next to the road, stood outside the edge of the forest. Its walls were white stucco with brown woodwork, obviously old but not falling to ruin, with darkly stained crossworks decorating the sills around the windows and ledges. Each pane of glass was clean and clear, and the setting orange sun reflected blindingly from the upper-story windows, catching the last rays before they were trapped in the forest’s
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paths and tangles of brush and tree.
His joke forgotten in his excitement. Earwig raced ahead to the tavern, constantly looking behind him, begging the two men to hurry. Caramon was more than willing to increase his pace, but Raistlin suddenly seemed to have more and more difficulty walking. He leaned on the staff heavily, his back bent as if carrying some unseen weight on his shoulders, his feet slipping.
Was this sudden weakness real or feigned? Caramon wondered uneasily, aiding his brother’s faltering steps. With Raistlin, he never knew.
The three eventually reached the open fence of simple wooden posts that surrounded the inn. Caramon stared inside a large glass window, its panes held rigid by vertical and horizontal strips of wood, their simple, decorative carving hiding their practical use. The tavern appeared warm and friendly, and though the sun was just setting, many of the patrons were already sitting down with mugs of ale and goblets of wine.
Above their heads, a sign swung in the breeze with a muted screech, much like the call of a small cat. The illustration on the board was a depiction of a black cat, standing proudly with its head up and tail curved over its back.
“Interesting,” murmured Raistlin.
“It’s a cat,” said Caramon.
“Yes, a black one. Black cats are the favored familiar of the evil wizards of the black robes. Generally any depiction of a black cat is derogatory, portraying the animal as evil as its master. The cat in this picture seems protective, benevolent. Interesting.”
Caramon made no comment, but opened the huge wooden door that had been reinforced with iron bars and a large iron lock. Inside, the inn was as hot as a fur-