Brothers Majere by Weis, Margaret

“Well, at least someone loves me,” said Caramon, recognizing his black-furred friend of the other afternoon. “You want to come up?”

The cat leaped onto Caramon’s shoulder, balancing perfectly. His brother and Shavas were still conferring. Raistlin kept his arm around her. The warrior reached up to scratch the feline behind the ear.

‘There is a test I can make,” Raistlin said, moving

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away from the councillor, “to tell if the man died by magical means.”

He waved the Staff of Magius over the body, closing his eyes to prepare a spell. Shavas’s terse voice broke his concentration.

“We cannot allow you do to that, Master Mage! We have certain . . . sacred rituals that must be performed before the body is interred in the ground.”

“I would not do anything that interferes with your religious beliefs—”

“I’m afraid I must insist. Please, Raistlin.” Choking back tears, Shavas put her hand to the necklace at her throat. ‘This is very difficult for me. He was … a close friend!”

Raistlin lowered the staff. “I’m sorry, Councillor. I have been thoughtless, it seems. Forgive me.”

Lady Shavas beckoned to a guardsman, then leaned over to speak softly into his ear. The soldier nodded once and ran off.

“This evening has been a great strain on all of us,” she said, addressing everyone in the park. “It is time for us all to return to our homes.”

The soldier came back, driving a carriage that he had commandeered. It was obvious to Caramon that this time they weren’t going to be able to convince the fellow to wait for them outside.

Raistlin drew his hood up over his head. Taking his brother’s arm, he said softly, “Come, Caramon, Earwig . . . Let us go.”

The cat dug its claws into Caramon’s shoulder, drawing a very small trickle of blood.

“Ouch! Hey I” he exclaimed, attempting to dislodge the animal. The cat, however, would not be moved but clung to Caramon tenaciously. They clambered into the

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carriage. Once Caramon was inside and seated, the cat jumped lightly from his shoulder and curled up in his lap, its red eyes fixed on the twin opposite. The carriage, driven by the soldier, rumbled through the empty, silent streets.

“Raistlin,” said Earwig in a small voice.

“What is it, kender?” the mage asked wearily.

“That man. He’s the one who tried to kill me.”

Caramon jerked his head up, staring. RaistHn, however, did not move.

“What do you think, Raist?” Caramon asked, feeling a chill of horror creep over his body.

“I think,” said the mage, “that we have one more day, my brother. One more day.”

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No ONC spoke oi/R/Nq f/?e canniaQe nioc. No

made a sound except the cat, who purred loudly, rumbling like a small thunderstorm. Earwig sat in one corner of the carriage, scratching his hand. Raistlin sat huddled in another, his cowl pulled low over his head. He might have been thinking or fast asleep. Caramon sat miserably, his broad shoulders spanning two corners, wishing he was back in Solace.

“I’d ask Tanis about this mess,” he said quietly to himself, a wave of homesickness sweeping over him. The half-elf was the wisest man Caramon knew. Always calm and steady-going, Tanis rarely allowed anything to

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shake him—with the possible exception of the twins’ older sister, Kitiara. Caramon heaved a great sigh. He wouldn’t see Tanis again for a long time, perhaps ever, the way the world seemed to be falling headlong into darkness. They were supposed to meet again in five— no, now make it four—years time. It seemed an eternity. Caramon sighed again. The cat licked his hand with its rough tongue.

“Barnstoke Hall, sirs,” said the soldier-driver.

The carriage rolled to a halt. The companions climbed out, the soldier watching every step. It was obvious he wasn’t going to leave until they were safely inside the inn. From the look of him, Caramon thought, he might be planning to spend the night.

The fighter, cat tucked under one arm, attempted to open the door of the hall, but discovered it was locked. He pounded on it loudly. Minutes passed, then the proprietor slid open a panel in the door and peered outside. Seeing the companions, he slid the panel shut. They waited another several moments, hearing bolts being drawn and chains rattling. Finally the door opened a crack, barely large enough for the warrior to squeeze through.

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