“The Great Eye?”
“Don’t interrupt me, if you want to know what’s going on. This year’s Festival of the Eye is going to be different from most others because all three moons, including the black moon Nuitari, are moving to rare conjunction. They will form the Great Eye—an orb of red, silver, and black hovering in the night sky, looking down upon Krynn with unfathomable intent.”
Raistlin paused, gazing at his brother with his own golden hourglass eyes.
“This has occurred once before in the history of the world—during the Cataclysm.”
Caramon shook his head. “Look, the Festival of the Eye happens every year. You’ve never been sick before. Except that once.”
“And on that night of the Festival—the night I was so strangely ill—my books showed the convergence of the
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two visible moons—Lunitari and Solinari. That is something that occurs more frequently, but still not often. Now, this year, according to my reading, that convergence will happen again. My calculations further confirm that the third—the black moon of the ancient, forgotten goddess Takhisis, Queen of Darkness—will cross over them, forming the Great Eye. What I felt so many years ago was the early gathering of mystic power that is going to be freed during the upcoming festival. Much is explained,” he added, thinking of the white line, understanding now why he could see it.
“Maybe to you, but not to me,” Caramon grunted, yawning. He glanced at his brother uneasily. “Is this sickness likely to happen again?”
But Raistlin was lost in thought and didn’t answer.
Earwig walked back up Southgate Street, past the rows and blocks of houses. “Everyone sure likes this necklace,” he said to himself proudly. “I’m really glad I found it. Gosh, I’m tired, though. Being a great warrior and getting kissed by beautiful women really takes a lot out of a guy.”
The kender made his way back to Barnstoke Hall, where he was delighted to find the street littered with dice and game pieces. He picked them all up and stuffed them into his pants pockets, wondering where they had come from.
The large and unfriendly servant was still guarding the door to the inn. The kender kindly let the man rest and went around to the back of the inn, where he crawled up the trellis and climbed into a window.
“I’ll just stop by and tell Caramon about my adventure,” he said, going up to the twins’ door and knocking on it loudly.
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A bleary-eyed Caramon threw open the door. “You!” He glowered at the kender. “Do you know what time it is?”
“No,” said Earwig cheerfully. “But I can find out if you want. There’s a clock in the hall. I—” The kender’s mouth flew open. He stared.
“Raistlin’s staff!”
“Yeah, so what?”
“But it was … I mean I tried to … It just disa—!”
“See you in the morning, Earwig!” growled Caramon as he slammed the door, nearly taking off the kender’s inquisitive nose.
“How wonderful! It must have come back all by itself! Still,” Earwig added, miffed, “you’d think it would have said something before it let me go to all that trouble looking for it.”
Yawning, he started to go to his room, but couldn’t remember where it was. He sneaked down into the dark dining hall, undid his pack, rolled out his sleeping mats, and fell asleep under the main table.
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“you little
The woman’s scream echoed through the inn, awakening Caramon. The next instant, footsteps pounded up the stair and fists banged on the door.
The fighter turned quickly to observe Raistlin, hoping the mage wouldn’t wake from his slumber. A muscle in his brother’s face twitched, and he stirred restlessly in his sleep.
Caramon leaped to his feet, fatigue leaving his muscles as he stormed toward the door. Flinging it open, he faced the proprietor he had met briefly last night.
“Stop that racket!” whispered Caramon loudly. “My brother is sick!”
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“Please, kind sir! I know you are important people— friends of the councillor’s—but you must help me!” The proprietor pointed down the stairs. “Your friend is assaulting my patrons!”
“My friend?” The warrior looked around the room to see if he’d forgotten somebody. Realization glimmered. “Earwig!” he groaned.