Dragonlance 04 - Time of the Twins (20 page)

"I don't believe it!" Caramon shouted. "Raistlin didn't make this decision. You're lying—all of you! You tortured my brother, and then one of your old wizards claimed what was left of his body!" Caramon's words boomed through the chamber and sent the shadows dancing in alarm.

Tas saw Par-Salian regard the warrior grimly, and the kender cringed, waiting for the spell that would sizzle Caramon like a spitted chicken. It never came. The only sound was Caramon's ragged breathing.

"I'm going to get him back," Caramon said finally, tears gleaming in his eyes. "If he can go back in time to meet this old wizard, so can I. You can send me back. And when I find Fistandantilus, I'll kill him. Then Raist will be . . ." He choked back a sob, fighting for control. "He'll be Raist again. And he'll forget all this nonsense about challenging th-the Queen of Darkness and . . . becoming a god."

The semi-circle broke into chaos. Voices raised, clamboring in anger. "Impossible! He'll change history! You've gone too far, Par-Salian—”

The white-robed mage rose to his feet and, turning, stared at every mage in the semi-circle, his eyes going to each individually. Tas could sense the silent communication, swift and searing as lightning.

Caramon wiped his hand across his eyes, staring at the mages defiantly. Slowly, they all sank back into their seats. But Tas saw hands clench, he saw faces that were unconvinced, faces filled with anger. The red-robed mage stared at Par-Salian speculatively, one eyebrow raised. Then he, too, sat back. Par Salian cast a final, quick glance around the Conclave before he turned to face Caramon.

"We will consider your offer," Par-Salian said. "It might work. Certainly, it is not something he would expect—”

Dalamar began to laugh.

Tas saw Par-Salian's clawlike fingers clench over the cold stone arms of his chair, the old man's blue eyes gleamed dangerously.

"We have suffered enough of your insults, Dalamar," ParSalian said. "I begin to think your loyalty to your Shalafi is too great. If that is true, your usefulness to this Conclave is ended."

Ignoring the threat, Dalamar smiled bitterly. "My Shalafi—” he repeated softly, then sighed. A shudder convulsed his slender body, he gripped the torn robes in his hand and bowed his head. "I am caught in the middle, as he intended," the dark elf whispered. "I don't know who I serve anymore, if anyone." He raised his dark eyes, and their haunted look made Tas's heart ache. "But I know this—if any of you came and tried to enter the Tower while he was gone, I would kill you. That much loyalty I owe him. Yet, I am just as frightened of him as you are. I'll help you, if I can."

Par-Salian's hands relaxed, though he still continued to regard Dalamar sternly. "I fail to understand why Raistlin told you of his plans? Surely he must know we will move to prevent him from succeeding in his terrifying ambitions."

"Because—like me—he has you where he wants you," Dalamar said. Suddenly he staggered, his face pale with pain and exhaustion. Par-Salian made a motion, and a chair materialized out of the shadows. The dark elf slumped into it. "You must go along with his plans. You must send this man back into time"—he gestured at Caramon—"along with the woman. It is the only way he can succeed—”

"And it is the only way we can stop him," Par-Salian said, his voice low. "But why Lady Crysania? What possible interest could he have in one so good, so pure—”

"So powerful," Dalamar said with a grim smile. "From what he has been able to gather from the writings of Fistandantilus that still survive, he will need a cleric to go with him to face the dread Queen. And only a cleric of good has power enough to defy the Queen and open the Dark Door. Oh, Lady Crysania was not the Shalafi's first choice. He had vague plans to use the dying Elistan—but I won't relate that. As it turned out, however, Lady Crysania fell into his hands—one might say literally. She is good, strong in her faith, powerful—”

"And drawn to evil as a moth is drawn to the flame," ParSalian murmured, looking at Crysania with deep pity.

Tas, watching Caramon, wondered if the big man was even absorbing half of this. He had a vague, dull-witted look about him, as if he wasn't quite certain where—or who—he was. Tas shook his head dubiously. They're going to send him back in time? the kender thought.

"Raistlin has other reasons for wanting both this woman and his brother back in time with him, of that you may be certain," the red-robed mage said to Par-Salian. "He has not revealed his game, not by any means. He has told us—through our agent— just enough to leave us confused. I say we thwart his plans!"

Par-Salian did not reply. But, lifting his head, he stared at Caramon for long moments and in his eyes was a sadness that pierced Tas's heart. Then, shaking his head, he lowered his gaze, looking fixedly at the hem of his robes. Bupu whimpered, and Tas patted her absently. Why that strange look at Caramon? the kender wondered uneasily. Surely they wouldn't send him off to certain death? Yet, wasn't that what they'd be doing if they sent him back the way he was now—sick, depressed, confused? Tas shifted from one foot to the other, then yawned. No one was paying any attention to him. All this talk was bor ing. He was hungry, too. If they were going to send Caramon back in time, he wished they'd just do it.

Suddenly, he felt one part of his mind (the part that was listening to Par-Salian) tug at the other part. Hurriedly, Tas brought both parts together to listen to what was being said.

Dalamar was talking. "She spent the night in his study. I do not know what was discussed, but I know that when she left in the morning, she appeared distraught and shaken. His last words to her were these, 'Has it occurred to you that Paladine did not send you to stop me but to help me?' "

"And what answer did she make?"

"She did not answer him," Dalamar replied. "She walked back through the Tower and then through the Grove like one who can neither see nor hear."

"What I do not understand is why Lady Crysania was traveling here to seek our help in sending her back'? Surely she must have known we would refuse such a request!" the red-robed mage stated.

"I can answer that!" Tasslehoff said, speaking before he thought.

Now Par-Salian was paying attention to him, now all the mages in the semi-circle were paying attention to him. Every head turned in his direction. Tas had talked to spirits in Darken Wood, he had spoken at the Council of White Stone but, for a moment, he was awed at this silent, solemn audience. Especially when it occurred to him what he had to say.

"Please, Tasslehoff Burrfoot," Par-Salian spoke with great courtesy, "tell us what you know." The mage smiled. "Then, perhaps, we can bring this meeting to a close and you can have your dinner."

Tas blushed, wondering if Par-Salian could, perhaps, see through his head and read his thoughts printed on his brain like he read words printed on a sheet of parchment.

"Oh! Yes, dinner would be great. But, now, um—about Lady Crysania." Tas paused to collect his thoughts, then launched into his tale. "Well, I'm not certain about this, mind you. I just know from what little I was able to pick up here and there. To begin at the beginning, I met Lady Crysania when I was in Palanthas visiting my friend, Tanis Half-Elven. You know him? And Laurana, the Golden General? I fought with them in the War of the Lance. I helped save Laurana from the Queen of Darkness." The kender spoke with pride. "Have you ever heard that story? I was in the Temple at Neraka—”

Par-Salian's eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and Tas stuttered.

"Uh, w-well, I'll tell that later. Anyway, I met Lady Crysania at Tanis's home and I heard their plans to travel to Solace to see Caramon. As it happened, I-I sort of . . . well, found a letter Lady Crysania had written to Elistan. I think it must have fallen out of her pocket."

The kender paused for breath. Par-Salian's lips twitched, but he refrained from smiling.

"I read it," Tas continued, now enjoying the attention of his audience, "just to see if it was important. After all, she might have thrown it away. In the letter, she said she was more—uh, how did it go—'firmly convinced than ever, after my talk with Tanis, that there was good in Raistlin' and that he could be 'turned from his evil path. I must convince the mages of this—' Anyhow, I saw that the letter was important, so I took it to her. She was very grateful to get it back," Tas said solemnly. "She hadn't realized she'd lost it."

Par-Salian put his fingers on his lips to control them.

"I said I could tell her lots of stories about Raistlin, if she wanted to hear them. She said she'd like that a lot, so I told her all the stories I could think of. She was particularly interested in the ones I told her about Bupu—”

'If only I could find the gully dwarf!' she said to me one night. 'I'm certain I could convince Par-Salian that there is hope, that he may be reclaimed!' "

At this, one of the Black Robes snorted loudly. Par-Salian glanced sharply in that direction, the wizards hushed. But Tas saw many of them—particularly the Black Robes—fold their arms across their chests in anger. He could see their eyes glittering from the shadows of their hoods.

"Uh, I'm s-sure I didn't mean to offend," Tas stuttered. "I know I always thought Raistlin looked much better in black— with that golden skin of his and all. I certainly don't believe everyone has to be good, of course. Fizban—he’s really Paladine—we're great personal friends, Paladine and I—Anyway, Fizban said that there had to be a balance in the world, that we were fighting to restore the balance. So that means that there has to be Black Robes as well as White, doesn't it?"

"We know what you mean, kenderken," Par-Salian said gently. "Our brethren take no offense at your words. Their anger is directed elsewhere. Not everyone in the world is as wise as the great Fizban the Fabulous."

Tas sighed. "I miss him, sometimes. But, where was I? Oh, yes, Bupu. That's when I had my idea. Maybe, if Bupu told her story, the mages would believe her, I said to Lady Crysania. She agreed and I offered to go and find Bupu. I hadn't been to Xak Tsaroth since Goldmoon killed the black dragon and it was just a short hop from where we were and Tanis said it would be fine with him. He seemed quite pleased to see me off, actually.

"The Highpulp let me take Bupu, after a—uh—small bit of discussion and some interesting items that I had in my pouch. Itook Bupu to Solace, but Tanis had already gone and so had Lady Crysania. Caramon was—” Tas stopped, hearing Caramon clear his throat behind him. "Caramon was—wasn't feeling too good, but Tika—that's Caramon's wife and a great friend of mine—anyway, Tika said we had to go after Lady Crysania, because the Forest of Wayreth was a terrible place and—No offense meant, I'm certain, but did you ever stop to think that your Forest is really nasty? I mean, it is not friendly"—Tas glared at the mages sternly—"and I don't know why you let it wander around loose! I think it's irresponsible!"

Par-Salian's shoulders quivered.

"Well, that's all I know," Tas said. "And, there's Bupu, and she can—” Tas stopped, looking around. "Where'd she go?"

"Here," Caramon said grimly, dragging the gully dwarf out from behind his back where she had been cowering in abject terror. Seeing the mages staring at her, the gully dwarf gave a shriek and collapsed onto the floor, a quivering bundle of ragged clothes.

"I think you had better tell us her story," Par-Salian said to Tas. "If you can, that is."

"Yes," Tas replied, suddenly subdued. "I know what it was Lady Crysania wanted me to tell. It happened back during the war, when we were in Xak Tsaroth. The only ones who knew anything about that city were gully dwarves.But most wouldn't help us. Raistlin cast a charm spell on one of them— Bupu. Charmed wasn't exactly the word for what it did to her. She fell in love with him." Tas paused, sighing, then continued in a remorseful tone. "Some of us thought it was funny, I guess. But Raistlin didn't. He was really kind to her, and he even saved her life, once, when draconians attacked us. Well, after we left Xak Tsaroth, Bupu came with us. She couldn't bear to leave Raistlin."

Tas's voice dropped. "One night, I woke up. I heard Bupu crying. I started to go to her, but I saw Raistlin had heard her, too. She was homesick. She wanted to go back to her people, but she couldn't leave him. I don't know what he said, but I saw him lay his hand on her head. And it seemed that I could see a light shining all around Bupu. And, then, he sent her home. She had to travel through a land filled with terrible creatures but, somehow, I knew she would be safe. And she was," Tas finished solemnly.

There was a moment's silence, then it seemed that all the mages began to talk at once. Those of the Black Robes shook their heads. Dalamar sneered.

"The kender was dreaming," he said scornfully.

"Who believes kender anyway?" said one.

Those of the Red Robes and the White Robes appeared thoughtful and perplexed.

"If this is true," said one, "perhaps we have misjudged him. Perhaps we should take this chance, however slim."

Finally Par-Salian raised a hand for silence.

"I admit I find this difficult to believe," he said at last. "I mean no disparagement to you, Tasslehoff Burrfoot," he added gently, smiling at the indignant kender. "But all know your race has a most lamentable tendency to, uh, exaggerate. It is obvious to me that Raistlin simply charmed this—this creature"— Par-Salian spoke with disgust—"to use her and—”

"Me no creature!"

Bupu lifted her tear-stained, mud-streaked face from the floor, her hair frizzed up like an angry cat's. Glaring at ParSalian, she stood up and started forward, tripped over the bag she carried, and sprawled flat on the floor. Undaunted, the gully dwarf picked herself up and faced Par-Salian.

"Me know nothing ‘bout big, powerful wizards." Bupu waved a grubby hand. "Me know nothing ‘bout no charm spell. Me know magic is in this"—she scrabbled around in the bag, then drew forth the dead rat and waved it in Par-Salian's direction—"and me know that man you talk 'bout here is nice man. Him nice to me." Clutching the dead rat to her chest, Bupu stared tearfully at Par-Salian. "The others—the big man, the kender—they laugh at Bupu. They look at me like me some sort of bug."

Bupu rubbed her eyes. There was a lump in Tas's throat, and he felt lower than a bug himself.

Bupu continued, speaking softly. "Me know how me look." Her filthy hands tried in vain to smooth her dress, leaving streaks of dirt down it. "Me know me not pretty, like lady lying there." The gully dwarf snuffled, but then she wiped her hand across her nose and—raising her head—looked at Par-Salian defiantly. "But him not call me 'creature!' Him call me 'little one.' Little one," she repeated.