“Ouch!” Catherine gave a little scream and began to squirm. “Please, sir. I — You’re hurting me!”
“Where have they taken him?” Raistlin tightened his grip. The girl’s face grew deathly pale. She tried to pull away.
“Raist — ” Caramon began.
“Come, come, girl!” Raistlin ignored his twin. “You were in on it, weren’t you? You lured him into the trap.”
Catherine snatched her arm away. “It was him who told me to do it.”
“Who?”
“That man. Bast. He said your friend was in danger, because he wore that strange necklace. He said he and his men would protect him. All I had to do was see to it that the kender went with them peacefully. Not make any trouble.” She twisted her apron into a knot. “I never meant any harm! I only wanted to help!”
Tears slid down her cheeks. Lifting her arm, she wiped it across her nose.
“Where did they take him?” Raistlin persisted.
“The … the dead wizard’s cave, I think.”
“Where is it?”
“In the mountains, a half day’s journey from here,” Catherine said, jerking her thumb in a southeasterly di-
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rection. “There’s an old path that leads there, marked by black flowers.”
“Black flowers!” Raistlin stared at her. “Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not!” Catherine rubbed her hands across her eyes. “I’m sorry for what I did. He was nice to me. Just go and find him, will you?”
“Black flowers,” muttered the mage.
“What is it, Raist?”
“Black flowers have a certain meaning among us, my brother. They denote the spot of an evil wizard’s death.” Raistlin rose to his feet. “We must search for Earwig.”
“1 didn’t think you cared that much about the kender,” said Caramon, pleased.
“Not him! The magic ring he’s wearing!” Raistlin began moving at a rapid pace down the street.
Caramon, shaking his head, was starting after his brother when he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He turned to see the girl. “Well, what is it now?” he asked gruffly. “Haven’t you done enough?”
Catherine flushed, her eyes lowered. “I just wanted you to … If you see Earwig, tell him”—she shrugged— “tell him that I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, sure!” muttered Caramon and stalked off.
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CHAPTER 19
Eanwiq eNferceD a /ONG ?i/NNe/. r/?e sighed. It was the fifth tunnel he’d encountered in his escape, and he was beginning to get tired of them. Even the pictures on the walls, interlaced with the gold, black, and white lines—pictures that had formerly been so fascinating—were starting to lose their charm. His stomach growled.
“I’m hungry, too,” said Earwig, patting his belly sympathetically.
The little torch he held in his hand continued to burn with a soft, yellow glow, the amber at the end of the wood sputtering occasionally. Such torches were the fa-
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vorite of kender, and no respectable adventurer left home without a few in his pack. Earwig had started with five, and though each would stay lit for a couple of hours, he had already used up one in his wanderings.
“This isn’t fun anymore!” he shouted. “I want out of here, and I want out of here right now. I mean it! No nonsense!”
The sound of his thin voice echoed in the walkways, but not for very long or very far or else the kender would have done little more than stand and yell, listening for his voice repeated hundreds of times against the ancient stones. He heard no answer, however, and was disappointed. He walked off to his right and stepped in a warm puddle of amber.
“I’ve been here before! I’m walking in circles.” He remembered then, what his great-grandfather had always told him. Whenever you’re in a boring situation, turn left and keep turning left. Earwig thought this good advice, and so he decided to follow it now.
He came to more tunnels, with more pictures filling the walls, more gold and black and white lines. The kender ignored them. He went through several more hallways and suddenly noticed that the pictures began to fade. The lines ran together to form a single, great band of gold, black, and white.
“I don’t blame you,” the kender told the unknown artist. “I was getting tired of that other stuff, too.”