CHAPTER ONE
"It's a spellbook!"
Caramon's eyes flickered open as a cloud blew out of the way and the mid-morning sun streamed through his window, shining onto his face. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
It had been a long night at the Majere household - Raistlin had his nightmares again, this time nearly all night long. Gilon had been gone for a few days on a big tree-cutting expedition, and Rosamun was as spacey as ever, so the adults were spared the disturbances.
However, Caramon, sharing a room with his littler brother, could get no rest in between the moans, mutterings, and occasional screams his sleeping twin voiced amidst his nightmares. Even the bunnies hadn't helped. Sometime before dawn, Caramon had just drifted off to sleep when a large THUMP jolted him out of his dreams. He'd sat up in great alarm, only to find that his little brother was now asleep on the floor - Raistlin had fallen out of bed. Caramon, sighing, pulled the covers over his head, rolled over, and fell asleep - a sleep which had lasted, thankfully, until now, sometime in the middle of the morning.
Yawning again, Caramon got up and got dressed - all except for one boot. He couldn't find the bootlace.
He went out into the kitchen and there, at the table, was Raistlin. Caramon blinked. Raistlin was sitting hunched over a book, dressed in a pink floral-pattern shawl (one belonging to Rosamun), a broom leaning up against his chair, a mug of tea steaming next to the book. He also had a rather large, bluish-greenish bruise on his forehead.
"Raist, are you all right?" he asked.
"Of course I'm all right, Caramon. I fell out of bed, that's all."
Caramon shrugged and sat down across from his twin. He groggily inquired as to what his brother was reading.
Raistlin looked up irritably. "You know very well that I must study my spellbook every morning upon waking."
A bit surprised, Caramon, knowing a few letters and being curious, examined the book clutched in his brother's hands. After a moment, he declared, "That isn't a spellbook - that's mum's favorite cookbook... and you're holding it upside-down!"
"No it isn't!" Raistlin growled. "It's not a cookbook, it's a spellbook! And it's not upside-down!"
"Sure looks like a cookbook to me," Caramon said defensively.
Raistlin sniffed. "That's because you're not a mage, and I am!"
"But, Raist... You're not a mage! We're both eight - you can't be a mage!"
"...Oh, shut up Caramon - you never did understand me!"
There was an uncomfortable pause. Caramon looked at his brother curiously, then asked, "Why are you wearing Mum's pink shawl?"
"It's not pink! It's red," Raistlin snapped, "and they aren't a shawl - they're my robes." He glowered at his brother over the top of the book. "My red robes!"
Caramon blinked. "Okay...Sure, Raist. They're red if you say so." Caramon shrugged a little and swung his legs under the tabled. He sighed, looked around, and suddenly made a face. He sniffed the air, then looked accusingly at his brother. "Uh... Raist?"
Raistlin looked up impatiently. "What??"
Caramon grimaced. "What's that smell?"
"It's my tea," Raistlin hissed from between clenched teeth.
"Ugh!" Caramon held his nose. "What's in that stuff?"
Raistlin gestured to a small plate next to his mug on the table, not looking up from his 'spellbook.' Caramon pulled the plate over to him and curiously examined the contents. Mired in a small pool of ominous-looking brown liquid were a piece of orange peel, some willow bark, two tea-leaves left over from yesterday afternoon, a couple of acorns, and, lastly, a soggy, somewhat disintegrated bootlace. Caramon's bootlace.
Caramon wrinkled his nose. "You put this in something you're drinking?" he asked incredulously.
Raistlin shrugged and said, simply, "It helps with my cough."
"Oh." Caramon nodded and thought about that for a moment. A thought eventually dawned on him. "But, Raist, you don't have a cough."
"That's because I'm drinking my tea!"
Caramon hunched down in the chair. He sighed, looking injured. After a moment, his stomach rumbled loudly. He looked expectantly at his twin. "Hey, Raist, what's for breakfast?"
"Do I look like Otik to you? Get your own breakfast - I'm trying to study." Raistlin shot his brother a scathing look and turned back to his book.
Caramon slid out of his chair and rummaged in the pantry. He pulled out a hunk of bread and a piece of cheese. He wolfed down the cheese, and began on the bread. He walked to the table to stand over his brother, still munching, scattering crumbs across the floor, onto the table, and into the tea.
Raistlin slammed the book down on the table. "Do you mind?"
Caramon smiled generously and shook his head. "Nope."
Rolling his eyes, Raistlin picked up his 'spellbook' and resumed reading, doing his best to ignore his brother. Finally, when Caramon spilled crumbs on his twin's head, Raistlin couldn't take any more. He threw down the book and spun around in the chair to scream, "You're getting crumbs on everything! On the floor, on the table, on me, and on my SPELLBOOK!"
"Upside-down cookbook," Caramon muttered under his breath.
"JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO DIMWITTED TO COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MY STUDIES, THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO INSULT MY ART!" Raistlin took a breath and forced himself to lower his voice. "By Lunitari, there must be something in that head of yours - after all, I hear it rattle every time you move! Now, clean up those crumbs and leave me alone!"
Caramon crossed his arms, pouting. He hunkered down in his chair. "Why don't you clean it up?" he sulked in a wounded tone of voice. "After all, you've already got the broom..."
Raistlin's normally pale complexion grew a shade paler in fury. "It's not a broom," he said in a very soft, very quiet voice. "It's the Staff of Magius."
Caramon blinked. "The Staff of Matches?" he asked, gazing at the broom in a cross between wonder and confusion.
"NO, YOU DOLT! YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL! THE STAFF OF MAGIUS. MAGIUS!! THE MOST POWERFUL MAGICAL ARTIFACT EVER TO GRACE THE FACE OF KRYNN!! NOT THE STAFF OF 'MATCHES-'!" He was abruptly cut off by a violent fit of coughing. He crumpled to the floor, clutching the shawl around him. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a white cloth spotted with what looked suspiciously like raspberry juice. He wiped his mouth, replaced the cloth, and pulled himself to his feet - with the aid of the broom.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. "Caramon?" called a voice from the front porch. "Raistlin?"
Raistlin glared at Caramon. Caramon stared at Raistlin. Finally, Raistlin snapped, "Oh, go get the door already Caramon!"
Caramon trudged into the living room and pulled open the door. Standing in the doorway, looking very concerned, was Tanis. The half-elf stepped quickly past Caramon, staring around into the house. Caramon closed the door behind him.
"Are you two all right?" Tanis asked, looking at Caramon. "I came up when I heard shouting. What's going on?"
"Oh, I'm all right," Caramon said. He dropped his voice to a lower tone, "But I'm getting kinda worried about Raist!"
Tanis frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"
Caramon sighed. "Well, I found him sitting in the kitchen, reading an upside-down cookbook-"
"Spellbook!" came a shout from the other room.
"-holding a broom-" Caramon continued.
"Staff!"
"-drinking this awful tea-"
"It's for my cough!"
"-wearing our mother's pink shawl!" Caramon finished.
"They're my robes! My red robes! RED, like the blood that comes out of my mouth when I cough! Which I need my tea for!"
Tanis rubbed his chin and sighed. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day..."
"It's a spellbook!"
Caramon's eyes flickered open as a cloud blew out of the way and the mid-morning sun streamed through his window, shining onto his face. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
It had been a long night at the Majere household - Raistlin had his nightmares again, this time nearly all night long. Gilon had been gone for a few days on a big tree-cutting expedition, and Rosamun was as spacey as ever, so the adults were spared the disturbances.
However, Caramon, sharing a room with his littler brother, could get no rest in between the moans, mutterings, and occasional screams his sleeping twin voiced amidst his nightmares. Even the bunnies hadn't helped. Sometime before dawn, Caramon had just drifted off to sleep when a large THUMP jolted him out of his dreams. He'd sat up in great alarm, only to find that his little brother was now asleep on the floor - Raistlin had fallen out of bed. Caramon, sighing, pulled the covers over his head, rolled over, and fell asleep - a sleep which had lasted, thankfully, until now, sometime in the middle of the morning.
Yawning again, Caramon got up and got dressed - all except for one boot. He couldn't find the bootlace.
He went out into the kitchen and there, at the table, was Raistlin. Caramon blinked. Raistlin was sitting hunched over a book, dressed in a pink floral-pattern shawl (one belonging to Rosamun), a broom leaning up against his chair, a mug of tea steaming next to the book. He also had a rather large, bluish-greenish bruise on his forehead.
"Raist, are you all right?" he asked.
"Of course I'm all right, Caramon. I fell out of bed, that's all."
Caramon shrugged and sat down across from his twin. He groggily inquired as to what his brother was reading.
Raistlin looked up irritably. "You know very well that I must study my spellbook every morning upon waking."
A bit surprised, Caramon, knowing a few letters and being curious, examined the book clutched in his brother's hands. After a moment, he declared, "That isn't a spellbook - that's mum's favorite cookbook... and you're holding it upside-down!"
"No it isn't!" Raistlin growled. "It's not a cookbook, it's a spellbook! And it's not upside-down!"
"Sure looks like a cookbook to me," Caramon said defensively.
Raistlin sniffed. "That's because you're not a mage, and I am!"
"But, Raist... You're not a mage! We're both eight - you can't be a mage!"
"...Oh, shut up Caramon - you never did understand me!"
There was an uncomfortable pause. Caramon looked at his brother curiously, then asked, "Why are you wearing Mum's pink shawl?"
"It's not pink! It's red," Raistlin snapped, "and they aren't a shawl - they're my robes." He glowered at his brother over the top of the book. "My red robes!"
Caramon blinked. "Okay...Sure, Raist. They're red if you say so." Caramon shrugged a little and swung his legs under the tabled. He sighed, looked around, and suddenly made a face. He sniffed the air, then looked accusingly at his brother. "Uh... Raist?"
Raistlin looked up impatiently. "What??"
Caramon grimaced. "What's that smell?"
"It's my tea," Raistlin hissed from between clenched teeth.
"Ugh!" Caramon held his nose. "What's in that stuff?"
Raistlin gestured to a small plate next to his mug on the table, not looking up from his 'spellbook.' Caramon pulled the plate over to him and curiously examined the contents. Mired in a small pool of ominous-looking brown liquid were a piece of orange peel, some willow bark, two tea-leaves left over from yesterday afternoon, a couple of acorns, and, lastly, a soggy, somewhat disintegrated bootlace. Caramon's bootlace.
Caramon wrinkled his nose. "You put this in something you're drinking?" he asked incredulously.
Raistlin shrugged and said, simply, "It helps with my cough."
"Oh." Caramon nodded and thought about that for a moment. A thought eventually dawned on him. "But, Raist, you don't have a cough."
"That's because I'm drinking my tea!"
Caramon hunched down in the chair. He sighed, looking injured. After a moment, his stomach rumbled loudly. He looked expectantly at his twin. "Hey, Raist, what's for breakfast?"
"Do I look like Otik to you? Get your own breakfast - I'm trying to study." Raistlin shot his brother a scathing look and turned back to his book.
Caramon slid out of his chair and rummaged in the pantry. He pulled out a hunk of bread and a piece of cheese. He wolfed down the cheese, and began on the bread. He walked to the table to stand over his brother, still munching, scattering crumbs across the floor, onto the table, and into the tea.
Raistlin slammed the book down on the table. "Do you mind?"
Caramon smiled generously and shook his head. "Nope."
Rolling his eyes, Raistlin picked up his 'spellbook' and resumed reading, doing his best to ignore his brother. Finally, when Caramon spilled crumbs on his twin's head, Raistlin couldn't take any more. He threw down the book and spun around in the chair to scream, "You're getting crumbs on everything! On the floor, on the table, on me, and on my SPELLBOOK!"
"Upside-down cookbook," Caramon muttered under his breath.
"JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO DIMWITTED TO COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MY STUDIES, THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO INSULT MY ART!" Raistlin took a breath and forced himself to lower his voice. "By Lunitari, there must be something in that head of yours - after all, I hear it rattle every time you move! Now, clean up those crumbs and leave me alone!"
Caramon crossed his arms, pouting. He hunkered down in his chair. "Why don't you clean it up?" he sulked in a wounded tone of voice. "After all, you've already got the broom..."
Raistlin's normally pale complexion grew a shade paler in fury. "It's not a broom," he said in a very soft, very quiet voice. "It's the Staff of Magius."
Caramon blinked. "The Staff of Matches?" he asked, gazing at the broom in a cross between wonder and confusion.
"NO, YOU DOLT! YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL! THE STAFF OF MAGIUS. MAGIUS!! THE MOST POWERFUL MAGICAL ARTIFACT EVER TO GRACE THE FACE OF KRYNN!! NOT THE STAFF OF 'MATCHES-'!" He was abruptly cut off by a violent fit of coughing. He crumpled to the floor, clutching the shawl around him. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a white cloth spotted with what looked suspiciously like raspberry juice. He wiped his mouth, replaced the cloth, and pulled himself to his feet - with the aid of the broom.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. "Caramon?" called a voice from the front porch. "Raistlin?"
Raistlin glared at Caramon. Caramon stared at Raistlin. Finally, Raistlin snapped, "Oh, go get the door already Caramon!"
Caramon trudged into the living room and pulled open the door. Standing in the doorway, looking very concerned, was Tanis. The half-elf stepped quickly past Caramon, staring around into the house. Caramon closed the door behind him.
"Are you two all right?" Tanis asked, looking at Caramon. "I came up when I heard shouting. What's going on?"
"Oh, I'm all right," Caramon said. He dropped his voice to a lower tone, "But I'm getting kinda worried about Raist!"
Tanis frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"
Caramon sighed. "Well, I found him sitting in the kitchen, reading an upside-down cookbook-"
"Spellbook!" came a shout from the other room.
"-holding a broom-" Caramon continued.
"Staff!"
"-drinking this awful tea-"
"It's for my cough!"
"-wearing our mother's pink shawl!" Caramon finished.
"They're my robes! My red robes! RED, like the blood that comes out of my mouth when I cough! Which I need my tea for!"
Tanis rubbed his chin and sighed. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day..."