Brothers Majere by Weis, Margaret

“It was magic killed our lord. . .. No one ever died until a wizard came to town! . . . Likely killed our cats, too!”

Caramon stalked the streets, hand on the hilt of his sword, glaring balefully at any who might have ihe nerve to speak too loudly or take a step toward Raistlin. Whether it was the aura of mystery and power surrounding the magic-user or the threat of the strong arm and sharp blade of the warrior beside him, nobody came close. The people melted away, sidling into alleys or ducking into dark doorways. But Caramon heard the muttered threats and saw the hatred on the faces as he, his twin, and the kender passed.

They’d walked about half a mile from Barnstoke Hall, traveling on one of the three main thoroughfares of Mereklar, when Raistlin came to a stop.

“Now, instructions. Earwig, I have a spell that will lead us to the cats, but in order to cast it, I need a bagful of a certain herb—nepeta cataria. When you find it, meet us back at Barnstoke Hall.”

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Earwig leaped at Raistlin, clutching at him, nearly knocking him over. “No! Please don’t make me leave you. I really want to stay with you! I feel. . .afraid if I’m not with you.”

“Hey, let go!” Caramon said, dragging the kender off his brother. “What’s got into you? Kender aren’t afraid of anything!”

“Don’t make me leave you, Caramon!” Earwig was clinging to the big man’s arm, despite all Caramon’s efforts to shake him loose. “Please! I’ll behave . . .”

Raistlin’s hand slipped into his pouch. He drew out a handful of rose petals and slowly sifted them over the kender ‘s head.

“Ast tasarak sinuralan krynawi,” he murmured.

Earwig suddenly yawned and began to rub his eyes.

“I’ll be goooo. . . .” The kender’s fingers slipped off Caramon’s arm. Earwig crumpled over in a heap on the sidewalk.

“What happened?” Caramon knelt down beside his little friend.

“He’s all right, my brother,” said Raistlin. “He’s asleep.”

Earwig had begun to snore softly.

“Lift him up onto that bench so that no one steps on him,” Raistlin instructed. “Now, you and I can proceed with our search alone.” The mage’s gaze went to the ring on the kender’s hand.

Caramon did as he was told. They left Earwig, blissfully snoring, in a hyava shop.

“What was that stuff you wanted him to get? Some kind of herb?”

“Nepeta cataria” The mage smiled slightly. “Catnip.”

The brothers continued up the street, appearing to do nothing more than look in shop and store windows. But all the stores were empty, the houses had their windows

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shuttered. People roamed the streets, sharing their own fear and panic.

“It’s like a town under siege,” Caramon remarked.

“Precisely. And for much the same reason. Fear. Terror. And notice,” added Raistlin. “No cats. Anywhere.”

Caramon glanced around. “You’re right! I haven’t seen one! Have they all disappeared?”

“I don’t think so. I think they’re in hiding. They, too, are afraid.”

Caramon wondered at their destination. Raistlin seemed to have an exact idea of where he was going and walked without hesitation. The warrior thought he understood when he saw the park, the same park Lord Manion had been killed in the night before. No one was around, the townspeople avoiding the place as if it were infected with the plague.

“What are we doing here?” Caramon asked uncomfortably, having much the same impression himself.

His brother did not answer. The mage stopped near a bench. Leaning on his staff, he stared at the trampled grass.

Caramon, growing increasingly nervous, pulled out the yellow ball Maggie had given him and began to play with it, trying to distract his gloomy thoughts. But thinking of Maggie made him think of Shavas. He knew he should be looking forward to tonight—what man wouldn’t, being alone with a beautiful, desirable woman? But there was the knowledge in the back of Car-amon’s mind that he was using the woman, deceiving her. He was a diversion, nothing more. He didn’t like it and he had about decided to tell Raistlin he wasn’t going when he felt a light tugging at his hand.