The mage’s gaze went to the man who held the woman so tenderly. His face, too, bore the marks of the long, tortuous path he had walked. Although stern and stoic that face would always be, his deep love for this woman showed clearly in the man’s dark eyes and the gentleness of his touch.
Perhaps I have made a mistake staying beneath the waters so long, Zebulah thought, suddenly feeling very old and sad. Perhaps I could have helped, if I had stayed above and used my anger as these two used theirs-to help them find answers. Instead, I let my anger gnaw at my soul until it seemed easiest to hide it down here.
“We should delay no longer,” said Riverwind abruptly. “Caramon will soon get it into his head to come looking for us, if he has not already.”
“Yes,” said Zebulah, clearing his throat. “We should go, although I do not think the young man and woman will have left. He was very weak-”
“Was he injured?” Goldmoon asked in concern.
“Not in body,” Zebulah replied as they entered a tumbledown building on a crumbling side-street. “But he has been injured in his soul. I could see that even before the girl told me about his twin brother.”
A dark line appeared between Goldmoon’s finely drawn brows, her lips tightened.
“Pardon me. Lady of the Plains,” Zebulah said with a slight smile, “but I see that forging fire you spoke of blaze in your eyes.”
Goldmoon flushed. “I told you I was still weak. I should be able to accept Raistlin and what he did to his brother without questioning. I should have faith that it is all part of the greater good I cannot envision. But I’m afraid 1 can’t. All I can do is pray that the gods keep him out of my path.”
“Not me,” said Riverwind suddenly, his voice harsh. “Not me,” he repeated grimly.
Caramon lay staring into the darkness. Tika, cradled in his arms, was fast asleep. He could feel her heart beating, he could hear her soft breathing. He started to run his hand through the tangle of red curls that lay upon his shoulder, but Tika stirred at his touch and he stopped, fearful of waking her. She should rest. The gods alone knew how long she had been awake, watching over him. She would never tell him, he knew that. When he had asked, she had only laughed and teased him about his snoring.
But there had been a tremor in her laughter, she had been unable to look into his eyes.
Caramon patted her shoulder reassuringly and she nestled close. He felt comforted as he realized she slept soundly, and then he sighed. Only a few weeks ago, he had vowed to Tika that he would never take her love unless he could commit himself to her body and soul. He could still hear his words, “My first commitment is to my brother. I am his strength.”
Now Raistlin was gone, he had found his own strength. As he had told Caramon, “I need you no longer.”
I should be glad, Caramon told himself, staring into the darkness. I love Tika and I have her love in return. And now we are free to express that love. I can make that commitment to her. She can come first in all my thoughts now. She is loving, giving. She deserves to be loved.
Raistlin never did. At least that’s what they all believe. How often have I heard Tanis ask Sturm when he thought I couldn’t hear why I put up with the sarcasm, the bitter recriminations, the imperious commands. I’ve seen them look at me with pity. I know they think I’m slow-thinking sometimes and I am- compared to Raistlin. I am the ox, lumbering along, bearing the burden without complaint. That’s what they think of me.
They don’t understand. They don’t need me. Even Tika doesn’t need me-not like Raist needed me. They never heard him wake screaming in the night when he was little. We were left alone so much, he and I. There was no one there in the darkness to hear him and comfort him but me. He could never remember those dreams, but they were awful. His thin body shook with fear. His eyes were wild with the sight of terrors only he could see. He clutched at me, sobbing. And I’d tell him stories or make funny shadow-pictures on the wall to drive away the horror.
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