him into darkness! And you’re dying by inches! Raistlin him-
self told you to walk your own path and let him walk his. But
you haven’t done that! You’re trying to walk both paths, Cara-
mon. Half of you is living in darkness and the other half is try-
ing to drink away the pain and the horror you see there.”
“It’s my fault!” Caramon began to blubber, his voice break-
ing. “It’s my fault he turned to the Black Robes. I drove him to
it! That’s what Par-Salian tried to make me see -”
Tika bit her lip. Tas could see her face grow grim and stern
with anger, but she kept it inside. “Perhaps,” was all she said.
Then she drew a deep breath. “But you are not coming back to
me as husband or even friend until you come back at peace
with yourself.”
Caramon stared at her, looking as though he was seeing her
for the first time. Tika’s face was resolute and firm, her green
eyes were clear and cold. Tas suddenly remembered her fight-
ing draconians in the Temple at Neraka that last horrible night
of the War. She had looked just the same.
“Maybe that’ll be never,” Caramon said surlily. “Ever think
of that, huh, my fine lady?”
“Yes,” Tika said steadily. “I’ve thought of it. Good-bye, Cara-
mon.”
Turning away from her husband, Tika walked back through
the door of her house and shut it. Tas heard the bolt slide home
with a click. Caramon heard it, too, and flinched at the sound.
He clenched his huge fists, and for a minute Tas feared he might
break down the door. Then his hands went limp. Angrily, try-
ing to salvage some of his shattered dignity, Caramon stomped
off the porch.
“I’ll show her,” he muttered, striding off, his armor clanking
and clattering. “Come back, three or four days, with that Lady
Crysle-whatever. Then we’ll talk about this. She can’t do this to
me! No, by all the gods! Three, four days, she’ll be begging me
to come back. But maybe I will and maybe I won’t….”
Tas stood, irresolute. Behind him, inside the house, his sharp
kender ears could hear grief-stricken sobbing. He knew that
Caramon, between his own self-pitying ramblings and his
clanking armor, could hear nothing. But what could he do?
“I’ll take care of him, Tika!” Tas shouted, then, grabbing
Bupu, they hurried along after the big man. Tas sighed. Of all
the adventures he had been on, this one was certainly starting
out all wrong.
CHAPTER 5
Palanthas – fabled
city of beauty.
A city that has turned its back upon the world and sits gaz-
ing, with admiring eyes, into its mirror.
Who had described it thus? Kitiara, seated upon the back of
her blue dragon, Skie, pondered idly as she flew within sight of
the city walls. The late, unlamented Dragon Highlord Ariakas,
perhaps. It sounded pretentious enough, like something he
would say. But he had been right about the Palanthians, Kit
was forced to admit. So terrified were they of seeing their
beloved city laid waste, they had negotiated a separate peace
with the Highlords. It wasn’t until right before the end of the
war – when it was obvious they had nothing to lose – that they
had reluctantly joined with others to fight the might of the
Dark Queen.
Because of the heroic sacrifice of the Knights of Solamnia,
the city of Palanthas was spared the destruction that had laid
other cities – such as Solace and Tarsis – to waste. Kit, flying
within arrow shot of the walls, sneered. Now, once more,
Palanthas had turned her eyes to her mirror, using the new
influx of prosperity to enhance her already legendary charm.
Thinking this, Kitiara laughed out loud as she saw the stir
upon the Old City walls. It had been two years since a blue
dragon had flown above the walls. She could picture the chaos,
the panic. Faintly, on the still night air, she could hear the beat-
ing of drums and the clear calls of trumpets.
Skie, too, could hear. His blood stirred at the sounds of war,
and he turned a blazing red eye round to Kitiara, begging her to