he began to chew on a piece of candied ginger the barmaid
tossed to him, pausing every now and then to share a
conspiratorial grin with the mage.
“That’s all well and good,” grunted Caramon, leaning
his elbows on the table, “but what do WE do now for food
for the next week?”
“Something will turn up,” said Raistlin calmly.
Raising his frail hand, he made a weak gesture and the
barmaid hurried to his side.
****
The soft glow of twilight darkened to night. The inn
became even more crowded, hot, and noisy. The knight’s
wife slept through the turmoil, her exhaustion so apparent
that many looked upon her with pitying eyes and muttered
that she deserved a better fate. The boy fell asleep, too,
curled up on the floor at his mother’s feet. He never stirred
when Caramon lifted him in his strong arms and tucked
him near his mother. Earwig returned and sat down next to
Caramon. Flushed and happy, he emptied out his bulging
pouches onto the table and began to sort their contents,
keeping up a nonstop, one-sided conversation at the same
time.
After two hours, Sir Gawain returned. Each man in the
inn who saw him enter nudged a neighbor into silence so
that all were quiet and watching him attentively as he
stepped into the common room.
“Where’s my son?” he demanded, staring around
darkly.
“Right here, safe and warm and sound asleep,”
answered the barmaid, pointing out the slumbering child.
“We haven’t made off with him, if that’s what you’re
thinking.”
The knight had grace enough to look ashamed. “I’m
sorry,” Gawain said gruffly. “I thank you for your
kindness.”
“Knight or barmaid, death takes us all alike. At least
we can help one another through life. I’ll wake your lady.”
“No,” said Gawain and put out his hand to stop her.
“Let her sleep. I want to ask you” – he turned to the
proprietor – “if she and my son can stay the night. I will
have money to pay you in the morning,” he added stiffly.
“You will?” The proprietor stared at him suspiciously.
“His Lordship hired you?”
“No,” answered the knight. “It seems he has all the
fighters he needs to handle the goblins.”
An audible sigh whispered through the room. “Told
you so,” said Caramon to his brother.
“Shut up, you fool!” Raistlin returned sharply. “I’m
interested to know where he’s planning to find money this
night.”
“His Lordship says that there is a woodland not far
from here, and in that woodland is a fortress that is of no
use to him or to anyone because there is a curse laid upon
it. Only – ”
“A cursed fortress? Where? What kind of curse?”
demanded an excited Earwig, scrambling up onto the
table to get a better view.
“The Maiden’s Curse,” called out several in answer.
“The fortress is called Death’s Keep. No one who has
entered it has ever returned.”
“Death’s Keep!” breathed the kender, misty-eyed with
rapture. “What a wonderful-sounding place!”
“A true Knight of Solamnia may enter and return.
According to His Lordship, it takes a true knight to lift the
curse. I plan to go there and, with the help of Paladine,
perform this deed.”
“I’ll come wi – ” Earwig was offering magnanimously,
when Caramon yanked the kender’s feet out from
underneath him, sending the green-clad figure sprawling
face-first on the floor.
“His Lordship has promised to reward me well,”
concluded Gawain, ignoring the crash and the kender’s
protest.
“Uh, huh,” sneered the proprietor, “And who’s going
to pay your family’s bill if you don’t return, Sir True
Knight? You’re not the first of your kind to go up there,
and I’ve never seen a one come back!”
Nods and low voices in the crowd affirmed this.
“His Lordship has promised to provide for them if I
fall,” answered Gawain in a calm and steady voice.
“His Lordship? Oh, that’s quite all right then,” said the
proprietor, happy once more. “And my best wishes to you,
Sir Knight. I’ll personally escort the lady and your boy – a
fine child, if I may say so – to their room.”
“Wait just a minute,” said the barmaid, ducking