Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman. Time of the Twins

He pleaded with him to turn his back on the darkness.”

“And what happened?” Tanis asked, though he already

guessed the answer.

“It came back,” Tika whispered. “Unopened. The seal wasn’t

even broken. And on the outside was written, ‘I have no

brother. I know no one named Caramon.’ And it was signed,

Raistlin!”

“Raistlin!” Crysania looked at Tika, as if seeing her for the

first time. Her gray eyes were wide and startled as they went

from the red-haired young woman to Tanis, then to the huge

warrior on the floor, who belched comfortably in his drunken

sleep. “Caramon… This is Caramon Majere? This is his

brother? The twin you were telling me about? The man who

could guide me -”

“I’m sorry, Revered Daughter,” Tanis said, flushing. “I had no

idea he -”

“But Raistlin is so… intelligent, powerful. I thought his

twin must be the same. Raistlin is sensitive, he exerts such

strong control over himself and those who serve him. He is a

perfectionist, while this” – Crysania gestured – “this pathetic

wretch, while he deserves our pity and our prayers, is -”

“Your ‘sensitive and intelligent perfectionist’ had a hand in

making this man the ‘pathetic wretch’ you see, Revered Daugh-

ter,” Tanis said acidly, keeping his anger carefully under con-

trol.

“Perhaps it was the other way around,” Crysania said,

regarding Tanis coldly. “Perhaps it was for lack of love that

Raistlin turned from the light to walk in darkness.”

Tika looked up at Crysania, an odd expression in her eyes.

“Lack of love?” she repeated gently.

Caramon moaned in his sleep and began thrashing about on

the floor. Tika rose quickly to her feet.

“We better get him home.” She glanced up to see Riverwind’s

tall figure appear in the doorway, then turned to Tanis. “I’ll see

you in the morning, won’t 17 Couldn’t you stay… just over-

night?”

Tanis looked at her pleading eyes and felt like biting off his

tongue before he answered. But there was no help for it. “I’m

sorry, Tika,” he said, taking her hands. “I wish I could, but I

must go. It is a long ride to Qualinost from here, and I dare not

be late. The fate of two kingdoms, perhaps, depends on my

being there.”

“I understand,” Tika said softly. “This isn’t your problem

anyway. I’ll cope.”

Tanis could have torn out his beard with frustration. He

longed to stay and help, if he even could help. At least he might

talk with Caramon, try to get some sense into that thick skull.

But Porthios would take it as a personal affront if Tanis did not

come to the funeral, which would affect not only his personal

relationships with Laurana’s brother, but would affect the

treaty of alliance being negotiated between Qualinesti and

Solamnia.

And then, his eyes going to Crysania, Tanis realized he had

another problem. He groaned inwardly. He couldn’t take her to

Qualinost. Porthios had no use for human clerics.

“Look,” Tanis said, suddenly getting an idea, “I’ll come back,

after the funeral.” Tika’s eyes brightened. He turned to Lady

Crysania. “I’ll leave you here, Revered Daughter. You’ll be safe

in this town, in the Inn, Then I can escort you back to Palan-

thas since your journey has failed -”

“My journey has not failed,” Crysania said resolutely. “I will

continue as I began. I intend to go to the Tower of High Sorcery

at Wayreth, there to council with Par-Salian of the White

Robes.”

Tanis shook his head. “I cannot take you there,” he said.

“And Caramon obviously is incapable. Therefore I suggest -”

“Yes,” Crysania interrupted complacently. “Caramon is

clearly incapacitated. Therefore I will wait for the kender

friend of yours to meet me here with the person he was sent to

find, then I will continue on my own.”

“Absolutely not!” Tanis shouted. Riverwind raised his eye-

brows, reminding Tanis who he was addressing. With an

effort, the half-elf regained control. “My lady, you have no

idea of the danger! Besides those dark things that pursued us –

and I think we all know who sent them – I’ve heard Caramon’s

stories about the Forest of Wayreth. It’s darker still! We’ll go

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