“Caramon,” Tas said, making his voice as deep as possible
and trying very hard to sound like Tanis, “look, just come with
us as far as the edges of the Forest of Wayreth. Then you can go
home. We’ll probably be safe after that -”
But Caramon wasn’t listening. Awash in liquor and self-pity,
he collapsed onto the ground. Leaning back against a tree, he
babbled incoherently about nameless horrors, begging Tika to
take him back.
Bupu stood up and came to stand in front of the big warrior.
“Me go,” she said in disgust. “Me want fat, slobbering drunk,
me find plenty back home.” Nodding her head, she started off
down the path. Tas ran after her, caught her, and dragged her
back.
“No, Bupu! You can’t! We’re almost there!”
Suddenly Tasslehoff’s patience ran out. Tanis wasn’t here.
No one was here to help. It was just like the time when he’d bro-
ken the dragon orb. Maybe what he was doing wasn’t the right
thing, but it was the only thing he could think of to do.
Tas walked up and kicked Caramon in the shins.
“Ouch!” Caramon gulped. Startled, he stared at Tas, a hurt
and puzzled look on his face. “What’dya do that for?”
In answer, Tas kicked him again, hard. Groaning, Caramon
grabbed his leg.
“Hey, now we have some fun,” Bupu said. Running forward
gleefully, she kicked Caramon in the other leg. “Me stay now.”
The big man roared. Blundering to his feet, he glared at Tas.
“Blast it, Burrfoot, if this is one of your games -”
“It’s no game, you big ox!” the kender shouted. “I’ve decided
to kick some sense into you, that’s all! I’ve had enough of your
whining! All you’ve done, all these years, is whine! The noble
Caramon, sacrificing everything for his ungrateful brother.
Loving Caramon, always putting Raistlin first! Well – maybe
you did and maybe you didn’t. I’m starting to think you always
put Caramon first! And maybe Raistlin knew, deep inside,
what I’m just beginning to figure out! You only did it because it
made you feel good! Raistlin didn’t need you – you needed
him! You lived his life because you’re too scared to live a life of
your own!”
Caramon’s eyes glowed feverishly, his face paled with anger.
Slowly, he stood up, his big fists clenched. “You’ve gone too far
this time, you little bastard -”
“Have I?” Tas was screaming now, jumping up and down.
“Well, listen to this, Caramon! You’re always blubbering about
how no one needs you. Did you ever stop to think that Raistlin
needs you now more than he’s ever needed you before? And
Lady Crysania – she needs you! And there you stand, a big
blob of quivering jelly with your brain all soaked and turned to
mush!”
Tasslehoff thought for a moment he had gone too far. Cara-
mon took an unsteady step forward, his face blotched and mot-
tled and ugly. Bupu gave a yelp and ducked behind Tas. The
kender stood his ground – just as he had when the furious elf
lords had been about to slice him in two for breaking the
dragon orb. Caramon loomed over him, the big man’s liquor-
soaked breath nearly making Tas gag. Involuntarily, he closed
his eyes. Not from fear, but from the look of terrible anguish
and rage on Caramon’s face.
He stood, braced, waiting for the blow that would likely
smash his nose back through to the other side of his head.
But the blow never fell. There was the sound of tree limbs
ripping apart, huge feet stomping through dense brush.
Cautiously, Tas opened his eyes. Caramon was gone, crash-
ing down the trail into the forest. Sighing, Tas stared after him.
Bupu crept out from behind his back.
“That fun,” she announced. “I stay after all. Maybe we play
game again?”
“I don’t think so, Bupu,” Tas said miserably. “Come on. I
guess we better go after him.”
“Oh, well,” the gully dwarf reflected philosophically. “Some
other game come along, just as fun.”
“Yeah,” Tas agreed absently. Turning around, afraid that per-
haps someone in the wretched inn had overheard and might
start trouble, the kender’s eyes opened wide.