The Cracked Mug tavern was gone. The dilapidated build-
ing, the sign swinging on one chain, the dwarves, the rangers,
the bartender, even the glass Caramon had lifted to his lips. All
had disappeared into the midafternoon air like an evil dream
upon awakening.
CHAPTER 7
Sing as the spirits move you,
Sing to your doubling eye,
Plain Jane becomes Lovable Lindas
When six moons shine in the sky.
Sing to a sailor’s courage,
Sing while the elbows bend,
A ruby port your harbor,
Hoist three sheets to the wind.
Sing while the heart is cordial,
Sing to the absinthe of cares,
Sing to the one for the weaving road,
And the dog, and each of his hairs.
All of the waitresses love you,
Every dog is your friend,
Whatever you say is just what you mean,
So hoist three sheets to the wind.
By evening, Caramon was roaring drunk.
Tasslehoff and Bupu caught up with the big man as he was
standing in the middle of the trail, draining the last of the dwarf
spirits from the flask. He leaned his head back, tilting it to get
every drop. When he finally lowered the flask, it was to peer
inside it in disappointment. Wobbling unsteadily on his feet, he
shook it.
“All gone,” Tas heard him mumble unhappily.
The kender’s heart sank.
“Now I’ve done it,” Tas said to himself in misery. “I can’t tell
him about the disappearing inn. Not when he’s in this condi-
tion! I’ve only made things worse!”
But he hadn’t realized quite how much worse until he came
up to Caramon and tapped him on the shoulder. The big man
whirled around in drunken alarm.
“What ish it? Who’sh there?” He peered around the rapidly
darkening forest.
“Me, down here,” said Tas in a small voice. “I – I just wanted
to say I was sorry, Caramon, and -”
“Uh? Oh…” Staggering backwards, Caramon stared at him,
then grinned foolishly. “Oh, hullo there, little fellow. A
kender” – his gaze wandered to Bupu – “and a gu-gul-gull-
gullydorf,” he finished with a rush. He bowed. “Whashyour-
names?”
“What?” Tas asked.
“Whashyournames?” Caramon repeated with dignity.
“You know me, Caramon,” Tas said, puzzled. “I’m Tassle-
hoff.”
“Me Bupu,” answered the gully dwarf, her face lighting up,
obviously hoping this was another game. “Who youl”
“You know who he is,” Tas began irritably, then nearly swal-
lowed his tongue as Caramon interrupted.
“I’m Raistlin,” said the big man solemnly with another,
unsteady bow. “A – a great and pow – pow – powerful-
magicuser.”
“Oh, come off it, Caramon!” Tas said in disgust. “I said I was
sorry, so don’t -”
“Caramon?” The big man’s eyes opened wide, then narrowed
shrewdly. “Caramon’s dead. I killed him. Long ago in the
Tow – the Twowr – the TwerHighSorshry.”
“By Reorx’s beard!” Tas breathed.
“Him not Raistlin!” snorted Bupu. Then she paused, eyeing
him dubiously. “Is him?”
“N-no! Of course not,” Tasslehoff snapped.
“This not fun game!” Bupu said with firm decision. “Me no
like! Him not pretty man so nice to me. Him fat drunk. Me go
home.” She looked around. “Which way home?”
“Not now, Bupu!” What was going on? Tas wondered
bleakly. Clutching at his topknot, he gave his hair a hard yank.
His eyes watered with the pain, and the kender sighed in relief.
For a moment, he thought he’d fallen asleep without knowing it
and was walking around in some weird dream.
But apparently it was all real – too real. Or at least for him.
For Caramon, it was quite a different story.
“Watch,” Caramon was saying solemnly, weaving back and
forth. “I’ll casht a magicshpell.” Raising his hands, he blurted
out a string of gibberish. “Ashanddust and ratsnests! Burrung!”
He pointed at a tree. “Poof,” he whispered, stumbling back-
ward. “Up in flames! Up! Up! Burning, burning, burning…
jusht like poor Caramon.” He staggered forward, wobbling
down the trail.
“All of the waitresshes love you,” he sang. “Every dog ish
your friend. Whatever you shay is jusht what you m-mean -”
Wringing his hands, Tas hurried after him. Bupu trotted
along behind.
“Tree not burn,” she said to Tas sternly.
“I know!” Tas groaned. “It’s just… he thinks -“