CHAPTER TWO
"It isn't funny!"
"All right, Raistlin," Tanis said in a tired voice, "Maybe the fifth time's the charm. Let's try this again." He rubbed his eyes and shifted position in the Majere's rickety kitchen chair. The half-elf sat across the table from Raistlin. Caramon had dragged Rosamun's rocker into the kitchen, the twins' mother being gone visiting friends for the afternoon, and the stronger of the Majere boys now sat perched uncomfortably in the chair in a corner of the room.
Raistlin nodded and sighed impatiently. "Why not?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But, as interesting as this little interview has been," he continued, his voice still laced with venom, "I would appreciate it if you could speed things up a bit, Half-Elven."
Tanis cringed at the address; no one ever called him by his last name. Not until now, that is. "All right, Raistlin," he said through clenched teeth, "I'll try to hurry." He took a breath to calm himself; not even noon yet, and he was already hanging on his last nerve. Raistlin had a way of unsettling him with every tiny action. "Now then. Who are you?"
Raistlin considered for a moment, then said, his tone somber and his face completely serious, "I am.... BATMAN!!"
"What??" Caramon and Tanis squeaked at the same time.
"Nothing, nevermind," Raistlin said quickly.
Tanis blinked and shook his head. "Oooookay. Let's try that one more time. What is your name?"
"Raistlin Majere," Raistlin answered boredly.
Tanis nodded. "Good. How old are you?"
Raistlin shrugged and answered, in the same casual tone, "I am twenty-five years of age."
Tanis pounded a fist on the table. "No, you're not! You're eight!"
Raistlin arched an eyebrow and smiled wryly. "That's ridiculous, Half-Elven."
"Is it?" Tanis panted tiredly.
Raistlin nodded matter-of-factly. "Of course it is. No eight-year-old has ever become a mage."
Tanis saw an opportunity and jumped at it. "Exactly! So you can't be a wizard!"
"Of course I can," Raistlin said immediately.
"How can you say that?" Tanis suppressed an urge to leap from his chair and throttle the child.
"I've passed the Test, therefore I am a mage." Raist waved a hand at himself. "And, as you can see, I wear the red robes of one of the order of neutrality. RED," he hissed again, with a venomous look at his brother in the corner.
Tanis heaved another sigh. "Let me get this straight. You say you're a wizard because you passed the Test... and therefore you're twenty-three."
"Twenty-five," Raistlin corrected, nodding his head agreeably.
There was a pause. Finally, Tanis asked, in a high, wistful voice, "You're sure you're not younger? You know... Twenty-two... twenty-one... eight?"
"Well, no child of eight could possibly have passed the Test!" Raistlin said, rolling his eyes. "Show a little common sense, Half-Elven!"
"I give up!" Tanis shouted. He threw up his hands, stood up, and stalked into the living room.
Raistlin arched an eyebrow at his brother. "It would seem our friend Tanis has become a bit high-strung, wouldn't it, my brother?" Without waiting for a response, Raistlin went on, musing, "Perhaps this has something to do with his failed romance with our sister."
Caramon jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "Romance with Kitiara?" he asked incredulously.
Raistlin frowned at Caramon. "Surely even you, my brother, haven't missed the signs! He was practically stepping on himself to get in our half-sister's favor when we left, and now that we've returned and she is still absent, he's been acting a bit... strange." Raistlin shrugged.
"We left?" Caramon asked curiously.
Raistlin nodded.
"Oh." Caramon paused, then asked, "Where did we go?"
Raistlin rolled his eyes. "You're getting to be as loony as that elf! 'Where did we go!' Soon you'll be taking up this ridiculous notion that we're eight!" Raistlin giggled at the thought, then abruptly stopped himself. Clearing his throat a few times, he awkwardly began a strange, whispery chuckle that quickly escalated to an eerie, high-pitched cackle that shook the house and drifted out the open windows to hit the entire town full-force.
Caramon threw his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut against the horrible noise. In the next room, Tanis plugged his sensitive Elven ears and dodged behind the couch, lest the horrible monster making that noise were to come in and devour him. Next door, a baby started wailing, the horses in the stables below set up a terrified whickering, and all over town, the dogs started howling.
Abruptly, Raistlin stopped. Silence fell over Solace once again.
Clearing his throat again, Raistlin turned to his brother. "Caramon, you dolt, what are you doing?" he demanded.
Caramon cautiously moved his hands and opened his eyes. Seeing that the laughing had stopped, still shaken to the core by the horrible sound, Caramon jumped to his brother and enveloped him in a crushing (well, for an eight-year-old, anyway) bear hug. "Raist! I was so worried! What was that? Are you all right now?"
Raistlin coughed feebly once and tried to push his stronger brother away. It didn't work. Caramon was still latched on to his younger brother, squeezing the air out of him. "Caramon, you're... squishing me!" Raistlin squeaked. His brother didn't hear him. Finally, with no other options left, Raistlin reached up and slapped his brother across the face.
Caramon fell backwards a few steps. Raistlin crumpled to the floor, writhing and throwing himself about violently, coughing with all his might. The pink shawl flipped up over his head, and soon, the small child was completely entangled in it. Caramon tried to help, but every time he got close, a hand or foot flailed by at breakneck speed, forcing him back again.
Finally, Raistlin's coughing fit ended. He suddenly sat straight up and tugged the disheveled pink shawl back around him. Dust bunnies from the Majere's unkempt kitchen floor stuck all over the shawl and in Raistlin's hair, making it stick up in funny places. Caramon couldn't help it - as his brother pulled out the raspberry-stained cloth and wiped his mouth, Caramon toppled over on the floor, giggling.
"It isn't funny!" Raistlin shouted.
Caramon clutched his sides and rolled over, kicking and screeching with laughter.
"It's not funny!" Raistlin said again. He stamped a foot and crossed his arms.
Caramon sat up, panting, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Raist, but with the pink shawl, and the silly coughing, and your hair... I just couldn't help it!"
Raistlin slowly turned a deep, ugly shade of red from the tip of his dusty hair all the way down to his toes. Then, Raistlin did something Caramon had rarely ever seen his twin do - Caramon's little brother crumpled into Rosamun's rocking chair and began to cry.
At that moment, Tanis had collected himself enough to try again. He stepped into the kitchen, just in time to see Raistlin, his twin inches away, back into the rocking chair and begin crying.
"What did you do to him, Caramon??" Tanis demanded, quickly storming over to the boys.
"I didn't do anything! I just thought it was funny, is all," Caramon protested, speaking loudly to be heard above his twin's sobs.
"Just... b-because I killed you during the Test d-doesn't me-mean you have to b-be so mean to me!" Raistlin stuttered out between gasping sobs.
"I'm sorry, Raist," Caramon said, truly agonized at his twin's distress. "I didn't mean it... Here - maybe I can make you feel better." Caramon formed his hand into the shape of a rabbit, a shadow puppet. He smiled encouragingly and held up his hand in front of his twin's face. "Look, Raist - bunnies!"
With that, Raistlin screamed, leapt out of his chair, ran away, and locked himself in his bedroom.
"It isn't funny!"
"All right, Raistlin," Tanis said in a tired voice, "Maybe the fifth time's the charm. Let's try this again." He rubbed his eyes and shifted position in the Majere's rickety kitchen chair. The half-elf sat across the table from Raistlin. Caramon had dragged Rosamun's rocker into the kitchen, the twins' mother being gone visiting friends for the afternoon, and the stronger of the Majere boys now sat perched uncomfortably in the chair in a corner of the room.
Raistlin nodded and sighed impatiently. "Why not?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But, as interesting as this little interview has been," he continued, his voice still laced with venom, "I would appreciate it if you could speed things up a bit, Half-Elven."
Tanis cringed at the address; no one ever called him by his last name. Not until now, that is. "All right, Raistlin," he said through clenched teeth, "I'll try to hurry." He took a breath to calm himself; not even noon yet, and he was already hanging on his last nerve. Raistlin had a way of unsettling him with every tiny action. "Now then. Who are you?"
Raistlin considered for a moment, then said, his tone somber and his face completely serious, "I am.... BATMAN!!"
"What??" Caramon and Tanis squeaked at the same time.
"Nothing, nevermind," Raistlin said quickly.
Tanis blinked and shook his head. "Oooookay. Let's try that one more time. What is your name?"
"Raistlin Majere," Raistlin answered boredly.
Tanis nodded. "Good. How old are you?"
Raistlin shrugged and answered, in the same casual tone, "I am twenty-five years of age."
Tanis pounded a fist on the table. "No, you're not! You're eight!"
Raistlin arched an eyebrow and smiled wryly. "That's ridiculous, Half-Elven."
"Is it?" Tanis panted tiredly.
Raistlin nodded matter-of-factly. "Of course it is. No eight-year-old has ever become a mage."
Tanis saw an opportunity and jumped at it. "Exactly! So you can't be a wizard!"
"Of course I can," Raistlin said immediately.
"How can you say that?" Tanis suppressed an urge to leap from his chair and throttle the child.
"I've passed the Test, therefore I am a mage." Raist waved a hand at himself. "And, as you can see, I wear the red robes of one of the order of neutrality. RED," he hissed again, with a venomous look at his brother in the corner.
Tanis heaved another sigh. "Let me get this straight. You say you're a wizard because you passed the Test... and therefore you're twenty-three."
"Twenty-five," Raistlin corrected, nodding his head agreeably.
There was a pause. Finally, Tanis asked, in a high, wistful voice, "You're sure you're not younger? You know... Twenty-two... twenty-one... eight?"
"Well, no child of eight could possibly have passed the Test!" Raistlin said, rolling his eyes. "Show a little common sense, Half-Elven!"
"I give up!" Tanis shouted. He threw up his hands, stood up, and stalked into the living room.
Raistlin arched an eyebrow at his brother. "It would seem our friend Tanis has become a bit high-strung, wouldn't it, my brother?" Without waiting for a response, Raistlin went on, musing, "Perhaps this has something to do with his failed romance with our sister."
Caramon jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "Romance with Kitiara?" he asked incredulously.
Raistlin frowned at Caramon. "Surely even you, my brother, haven't missed the signs! He was practically stepping on himself to get in our half-sister's favor when we left, and now that we've returned and she is still absent, he's been acting a bit... strange." Raistlin shrugged.
"We left?" Caramon asked curiously.
Raistlin nodded.
"Oh." Caramon paused, then asked, "Where did we go?"
Raistlin rolled his eyes. "You're getting to be as loony as that elf! 'Where did we go!' Soon you'll be taking up this ridiculous notion that we're eight!" Raistlin giggled at the thought, then abruptly stopped himself. Clearing his throat a few times, he awkwardly began a strange, whispery chuckle that quickly escalated to an eerie, high-pitched cackle that shook the house and drifted out the open windows to hit the entire town full-force.
Caramon threw his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut against the horrible noise. In the next room, Tanis plugged his sensitive Elven ears and dodged behind the couch, lest the horrible monster making that noise were to come in and devour him. Next door, a baby started wailing, the horses in the stables below set up a terrified whickering, and all over town, the dogs started howling.
Abruptly, Raistlin stopped. Silence fell over Solace once again.
Clearing his throat again, Raistlin turned to his brother. "Caramon, you dolt, what are you doing?" he demanded.
Caramon cautiously moved his hands and opened his eyes. Seeing that the laughing had stopped, still shaken to the core by the horrible sound, Caramon jumped to his brother and enveloped him in a crushing (well, for an eight-year-old, anyway) bear hug. "Raist! I was so worried! What was that? Are you all right now?"
Raistlin coughed feebly once and tried to push his stronger brother away. It didn't work. Caramon was still latched on to his younger brother, squeezing the air out of him. "Caramon, you're... squishing me!" Raistlin squeaked. His brother didn't hear him. Finally, with no other options left, Raistlin reached up and slapped his brother across the face.
Caramon fell backwards a few steps. Raistlin crumpled to the floor, writhing and throwing himself about violently, coughing with all his might. The pink shawl flipped up over his head, and soon, the small child was completely entangled in it. Caramon tried to help, but every time he got close, a hand or foot flailed by at breakneck speed, forcing him back again.
Finally, Raistlin's coughing fit ended. He suddenly sat straight up and tugged the disheveled pink shawl back around him. Dust bunnies from the Majere's unkempt kitchen floor stuck all over the shawl and in Raistlin's hair, making it stick up in funny places. Caramon couldn't help it - as his brother pulled out the raspberry-stained cloth and wiped his mouth, Caramon toppled over on the floor, giggling.
"It isn't funny!" Raistlin shouted.
Caramon clutched his sides and rolled over, kicking and screeching with laughter.
"It's not funny!" Raistlin said again. He stamped a foot and crossed his arms.
Caramon sat up, panting, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Raist, but with the pink shawl, and the silly coughing, and your hair... I just couldn't help it!"
Raistlin slowly turned a deep, ugly shade of red from the tip of his dusty hair all the way down to his toes. Then, Raistlin did something Caramon had rarely ever seen his twin do - Caramon's little brother crumpled into Rosamun's rocking chair and began to cry.
At that moment, Tanis had collected himself enough to try again. He stepped into the kitchen, just in time to see Raistlin, his twin inches away, back into the rocking chair and begin crying.
"What did you do to him, Caramon??" Tanis demanded, quickly storming over to the boys.
"I didn't do anything! I just thought it was funny, is all," Caramon protested, speaking loudly to be heard above his twin's sobs.
"Just... b-because I killed you during the Test d-doesn't me-mean you have to b-be so mean to me!" Raistlin stuttered out between gasping sobs.
"I'm sorry, Raist," Caramon said, truly agonized at his twin's distress. "I didn't mean it... Here - maybe I can make you feel better." Caramon formed his hand into the shape of a rabbit, a shadow puppet. He smiled encouragingly and held up his hand in front of his twin's face. "Look, Raist - bunnies!"
With that, Raistlin screamed, leapt out of his chair, ran away, and locked himself in his bedroom.