Title: Bright Shining Dark

Title: Bright Shining Dark

Disclaimer: Nope, they arent mine so don't sue.

Caramon was barely able to separate his children from his brother before they were on him again, asking him to show them how to make coins disappear. Raistlin complied, and soon the two boys were watching in rapt fascination as their uncle made a steel coin dance between his fingers, gasping in pleasure when it disappeared into thin air, then reappeared behind their ears. Vividly, he recalled the time when he and his friends disguised themselves as carnival people to move easily through occupied territory during the War. Raistlin had worn the same small smile of pleasure then as he was now, though now the expression reached his eyes as well.

'He always did love performing,' Caramon thought to himself as he went into the kitchen to make tea. Several times in their lives Raistlin had taken to simple illusions and 'kender tricks' as sleight of hand was known, to provide them with food and shelter. They seemed to be the only times that the frail, sickly young man had ever truly been at peace with himself.

"Thinking about past times, my brother?"

Caramon jumped, then turned around sheepishly as his brother walked into the kitchen. " Just drifting, Raist. Nothing important."

Raistlin nodded, lifting a mug off the rack of drying dishes and filling it from a kettle hung over the hearth. " The past is always important, Caramon," he said patiently, "Without it, we are all lost."

Caramon turned the cryptic words over in his mind for a moment, " Without it, we wouldn't be here," he finally said, almost to himself.

"That is what I said," Raistlin said, old impatience slipping into his tone, before he let it go.

Caramon began to walk out the backdoor, and for a moment Raistlin feared that he had wounded his brother before he heard him say, "It's a nice night out. Care to join me?"

He took a moment to add some hibiscus leaves and honey to his cup before joining Caramon on the balcony that wrapped around the inn. The sun had set, and the stars that shone through the trees were bright diamonds against the indigo velvet of the sky,

"Your son is blessed with good fortune," Raistlin said after a moment, watching as the moons began to rise over the horizon. Though he couldn't see the orbs, he could make out the shifting of the red glow of Lunitari. "The day he was born falls one week before the Great Eye will be seen, a day in which all debts are cleared from the previous year. Spring Dawning." He sighed, staring into his cup. " I suppose they celebrated the coming of spring with the usual abandon this year?"

Caramon laughed, suddenly back to the time a few weeks ago, when he and Rebecca were struggling to keep up with the crowd that invariably gathered around the first of Mishamont, Spring Dawning, as the elven called it, the official start of spring. Between keeping his customers in food and ale, watching over Tika, and keeping Earwig from picking every pocket in sight, he'd had his hands full. "You could say that. Spring sessions have begun for the school," the large man turned his eyes on his brother, "I thinks there's a rumor that its shutting down unless they can find someone to take it from Theobold. The man has one foot in the grave as it is."

An undignified 'humph' came from the man next to him, " I suppose the people of Solace are breathing a collective sigh of relief that its leaving?"

Caramon shook his head, "you'd think that, but its not. A lot of kids go there now, more than when you were in school." He shook his head, "There's even this one little girl-"

"Girls go to another school near Palanthas," Raistlin cut in, " They cannot attend the same school as boys, the training is different."

Caramon shrugged, "She goes anyway, though from what I've heard Theobold threw a fit large enough to kill him when they asked. Good thing too," he added, " I was scared she'd hurt someone if they didn't let her attend."

Raistlin's head came up sharply, "Hurt someone, my brother? A child?"

Caramon nodded, his expression darkening. " When they moved in, they kept her inside most of the time, until people began to talk. Nothings wrong with her, she just…" he trailed off, "Remember the night of the Eye when we were little, when you had that fit?"

Raistlin's eyes glazed over for the barest of moment, "Well I remember it," he answered.

"It was like that, only it wasn't the Night of the Eye," he shook his head, " Last summer her mother came screaming into the inn, yelling that her daughter was dying. Some of the mages followed her to her home, we had two staying that night. When they came back… the last time I saw someone that pale was when Dalamar was dying in the tower."

Caramon shook himself before continuing, "From what they said, the little girl was tearing herself inside out. Too much power without enough training, they said. She left with them to the Tower, if that's where they were headed."

"Who were they?"

"Two white robes, you'll probably see them, they come through Solace around this time of year like clockwork. Bentahs and Syllfain. They brought her back a few months later. Since then, she hasn't had an attack like that . That's why they let her attend the school."

This added to Raistlin's interest in looking into the school, but he stored the information away for a later time. "If I might be so bold as to ask to see my nephew?"
That request brought a swift smile to Caramon's face, "Right this way."

Raistlin wadded through his older nephews, promising to tell them tales of his adventures before they went to sleep. So many things have changed, he mused to himself as he followed his brother to the small room adjacent to his that served as a nursery. Years ago, thinking of doing things this simple would never have crossed his mind, telling tales to children, staying with his brother. Now, they were imbued with a subtle grace, something cherished.

"Here he is, Raist." Caramon said quietly.

Raistlin looked into the crib at the small sleeping form there. The boy was chubby, like most children, but there was still a leanness about him that would influence his build as he grew.

As if sensing someone thinking about him, the child opened his eyes and looked at the two men standing over him without fussing, only blinking bemusedly, as if wondering what they wanted with him. His eyes locked with Raistlin's for brief seconds before returning to his fathers and giving him a toothless smile and a laugh.

"Awake already are we?" he asked, picking up the boy as if he were fine china. "Couldn't wait to meet your Uncle Raist, could you?"

Said person was quietly leaving the room, casting one furtive glance back at the two before heading to his own room.

Raistlin was up before the sun rose the next morning, bathed and dressed when the first hints of sunlight challenged the night, and heading to the kitchen before the golden orb made its way over the horizon. He stopped at the door to the kitchen when he saw Tika standing over the large table there, kneading bread dough with a vengeance, talking to the small basket next to her.

"Gas indeed," she said aloud to the room, "She wouldn't know gas if she was struck with a sudden bought of it!"
"I take it Weird Megan has been passing on her pearls of wisdom," Raistlin said, walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water from the barrel near the door.

"Wisdom my left foot," Tika humphed, turning over the dough and pounding the other side with enough gusto to make him smile, " He only smiles for me and Caramon, no one else. Tell me that's gas."

Raistlin raised an eyebrow, "On the other hand, it could speak ill of his thoughts on his family."

It took Tika all of five seconds to react to that statement, two seconds to understand his meaning, two seconds to glare, and one second to grab the heavy skillet that sat on the stove.

Her brother-in-law threw up his hands in mock surrender, "Please, Tika, forgive. A bad joke on my part."

For a moment it appeared that forgiveness would have to wait until he had taken at least one hit, then she put the pan down with a heavy clang, " Caramon would kill me if you ended up with bruises."

"I assure you I can take care of myself," he said, "Though I will admit that you would be less attractive as a toad."

Tika laughed, "Didn't you threaten Tas with something like that years ago?"

Raistlin grinned, "Leave it to me to find a threat that would discourage a kender." His expression darkened for a moment, "Is Tasselhoff coming to the christening?"

Tika shrugged before returning to her kneading, " I wouldn't know. We sent him an invitation, the same with Tanis and Goldmoon, but they assured us that they would be here. They have a young son as well."

The sadness in her tone alerted Raistlin, "What?"

Tika sighed, "A few years ago he started having these headaches, really bad ones. The pain was so harsh that he threw up, couldn't stand light. Tanis said he even passed out a few times. It's a hard thing for a ten year old to bear, pain like that." she sighed again, "Tanis and Laurana have worried themselves over it, even sent him to healers of Paladin, but nothing has worked."

Raistlin paled slightly under her tale, remembering a time when he himself had trekked for years trying to find a cure for the curses placed on him by his Test, years spent trailing half murmured myths and legends, all to no avail.

"I think they're planning on bringing him with them if they come, but I can't say."

Before Raistlin could answer he heard a noise in the front room. Tika had opened the door for the day to allow air to travel through the inn, and now someone was walking through it, quietly, with something else walking near them, something not human. He held up a hand at Tika's questioning glance, and headed for the room.

"Is anyone awake?" The voice made him stop before he ever saw the face, it was a voice he had heard all to often in his dreams. Collecting himself, he opened the door to the kitchen and stepped into the common room.

She hadn't changed much over the years, Raistlin mused. She still had the same marble skin and fine features that would look haughty if it were not for their stillness and the gentleness that came off her in waves.

A menacing growl broke his revere, and he looked into the eyes of a large white tiger, held on a chain that was looped around her wrist. The cat watched him with an intelligence that belayed its feline nature.

The woman turned towards the sound, white dress streaming, and Raistlin almost cringed when her sightless eyes swept over his form. " Who is there?" the voice held authority now.

"It is good to see you again, Revered Daughter," Raistlin said quietly.