CHAPTER THREE
"Show us some of your magic."
Tanis had called an emergency conference. It was nearing one in the afternoon, and the Majere house had become stifling in the summer heat. Therefore, Tanis had decided to move the meeting to the Inn of the Last Home.
When Caramon first heard this, he had been mortified. "You aren't going to go anywhere wearing... that... are you, Raist?" he'd said, giving a miserable look to the dusty hair, pink shawl, and broom-staff of his twin.
"Don't be ridiculous, Caramon!" Raistlin had snapped.
Caramon breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because I thought you might-"
Raistlin went on, ignoring his brother, "Of course I'm going to go out wearing this! After all, these are my red robes, and I, as a red-robed mage, must wear them at all possible times." He gave proud tug at the fringe on the floral-patterned pink shawl.
Caramon groaned, sighed resignedly, and put on a spare pair of Tanis's boots.
Now, Tanis, Flint, the young Sturm, and Caramon sat around a table at the Inn of the Last Home, trying to determine what to do. They had, of course, brought Raistlin with them - and he had immediately gone off to sit by himself at a table in the corner. And, of course, they had invited Tas to the meeting - though Flint had been adamantly against this - and the kender had accepted at once. After the first few minutes, however, Tas had grown bored and had migrated to Raistlin's table in the corner. The two had sat there, talking excitedly, and finally they had vanished upstairs. Tanis and the others, of course, hadn't noticed this, and so they all listened attentively while Tanis told his friends about the strange fit that had come over Raistlin.
"...And now, here we are," Tanis finished tiredly.
Sturm tilted his head imperiously and crossed his arms. "I knew sending Raistlin to that filthy mage's school would only come to evil," he said righteously.
Caramon frowned. "Hey! Don't call my brother evil!" he said defensively, hurt on behalf of his twin.
"I'll call him evil if that's what he is," Sturm shot back angrily.
Caramon shook his head. "He isn't evil! He's just... confused, that's all."
Flint snored. "Yeah, if by confused you mean not right in the head!" Caramon sniffled, hunkered down in his chair, and began to pout. Flint sobered. "There now, lad, it'll be all right. He'll come out of it eventually."
"Or so we hope," Sturm said darkly.
Tanis made a silencing gesture. "All right, that's enough. We're here to try and help Raistlin, not make fun of him," he said sternly.
"I'll help him, all right," Sturm muttered loudly. "Help him right down a well!"
"That's enough!" Tanis half-shouted. The few patrons in the inn this early afternoon looked up to see what the commotion was about. Tanis reddened and lowered his voice. "I've got an idea. Maybe if we can get Raistlin to try to work his magic and he realizes he can't, he'll snap out of it and remember that he isn't a wizard - or bat-whatever-it-is," he finished.
The rest of the group nodded their agreement, Sturm a bit more reluctantly than the others. As one, they turned to look at Caramon.
Caramon sighed. "All right, fine," he said resignedly. He got up and trooped to the bottom of the stairs. "Raistlin, could you come down here for a second?" he called up loudly.
The companions couldn't see Raistlin from their table, but they could see Caramon - and the shocked look on his face - clearly. Mouth slightly open in surprise, Caramon trooped back to the table.
Following Caramon was Tas, in the strangest outfit any of the friends had ever seen. The kender stumbled along behind Caramon wearing a grossly-too-big black dress - a faded affair of worn velvet, faded lace, and so many patches in so many clashing shades of black, gray, and brown that it had come to look something like a misguided patchwork quilt. Tas had one of the sleeves pulled up above his head, draped across his topknot dramatically, and, to his credit, the kender only tripped twice coming down the stairs and once coming across the room to meet his friends.
Caramon arrived at the table first, eyes as big around as saucers. "This is...." he trailed off, finishing with something no one could quite understand.
"What was that, Caramon?" Tanis asked with a half-frown.
Caramon swallowed and tried again. "This is Talamar the Dark, appendix to the Arch-maggot Raistlin Majere," he muttered, staring at his toes.
Flint burst out laughing. "Talamar the Dark! That's a good one!" He slapped his knees in mirth, his face turning a merry shade of red.
Sturm frowned darkly. "The mage-child has infected the kender," he said mournfully. "Now we'll have to throw them both down the well." The young Solamnic didn't seem overly distressed at the thought.
Tanis gave Tas a strange look. "Appendix to a what-maggot?"
Tas stamped his foot and crossed his arms, fixing the half-elf with his best scowl. "My Shelfey says-"
Tanis cut him off. "Your what?"
"Shelfey!" Tas said impatiently. "You know, Shelfey - the Elven word for master!"
Tanis put a hand over his mouth to hide a grin. "That's Shalafi, Tas."
"Oh." The kender shrugged, then suddenly remembered he was supposed to be scowling. He put on his menacing look again. "Now then. My name is Talamar the Dark, the Apprentice, Caramon - an appendix is a useless little thing somewhere in your stomach, I think - the Apprentice of the Archmagus Raistlin Majere. I have come on behalf of the Shelfey to serve as a messenger." Tas broke into a grin. "I've never been anybody's apprentice before. Isn't it wonderful, Tanis? Raistlin says he'll teach me how to turn people into crickets and cast fireballs and do all kinds of other wonderful magic!"
Suddenly, though none of the companions had seen him arrive, Raistlin was standing behind Tas, the pink shawl draped over his head, his hands behind his back. The kender, busy talking, didn't seem to notice.
"And once I'm done being an apprentice, Raistlin says that fat innkeepers will bow to me," -at this phrase, Raistlin stiffened and ground his teeth a bit in frustration- "and I can have his Staff of Magius for a little while, and even though it looks like a broom - a kind of beat up, dusty old broom, now that I think about it - Raistlin says it has all kinds of really neat powers and spells and things, and-"
Raistlin cleared his throat.
The kender half-jumped out of his dress. He spun around and then, seeing who it was, immediately bowed. "I'm supposed to bow," he whispered loudly to Tanis over his shoulder, "because that's what apprentices do to their Shelfeys."
Raistlin took a step toward the kender, suddenly very menacing in the pink floral-pattern shawl. "You, apprentice, have been spying on me!" he said in a very soft, very dangerous voice.
Tas shook his head wildly. "No I haven't! Honest!"
"Then what were you doing telling them about your training?" Raistlin demanded, backing the kender away from the table, into a corner.
"Aw, come on, Raistlin! I wasn't telling them anything really important - and besides, they're your friends! They wouldn't do anything to hurt you."
Raistlin paused a moment in contemplation.
Caramon, Tanis, and Flint all held their breaths. Sturm rolled his eyes.
"Even now, the fools plot against me," Raistlin said finally. "No, apprentice, you must pay the price. For conspiring against me... for spying... for being a traitor... you will PAY!"
"No!" Caramon shouted, diving off his chair towards his twin, but even as he flew through the air, he realized he was too late. His brother pulled the object he'd had concealed behind his back, raised it over the kender, gave his apprentice a menacing glare and...
...upended somebody's mug of ale over the kender's head, just as Caramon, skidding across the slick stone floor head-first, careened into him. The twins went flying into a wall, Tas got sopping wet, and Flint bruised himself in the ribs from falling out of his stool laughing. In the end, however, the ale mug - shattered when Caramon flew into his brother - was the only casualty.
Once they had untangled the twins, Tanis bodily carried Raistlin back to the table, sat him down, and, threatening him sternly, went to dry off the kender. Tas gratefully accepted a towel and, after squeezing most of the ale out of his topknot, took a seat next to Tanis. Flint, finally recovering from his laughing fit, resumed his seat also. Sturm had never stood up in the first place, so Caramon, looking even more profoundly miserable than before, was the last to sit down.
"Why didn't you make me your apprentice?" Caramon asked his brother in a wounded tone.
"Because, Caramon, you are a cloth-headed ignoramus with the insignificantly miniscule arcane abilities of a rather dim-witted, unintelligent specimen of spore mold!" Raistlin said, pulling the pink shawl a little lower over his face.
Caramon frowned, trying to puzzle out what his brother had said to him. Flint patted the boy on the shoulder. "There now, lad, don't worry about it," the dwarf said consolingly. "It doesn't look like it'd be much fun to be his apprentice, anyway. Just look at Tas, sopping wet."
Tas gave an enigmatic smile and shrugged. "It was the price I had to pay for my magic," he said cheerfully, squeezing the last few drops from the tip of his topknot.
Raistlin shot Tas a deadly glare. "Quit stealing my lines!
Tanis decided he had best interrupt before Tas got another ale-mug emptied over his head. "Let's get back to the reason we asked Raistlin down here in the first place," he said hurriedly. The others quieted. "Now then. Raistlin, we want to see..." Tanis suddenly trailed off, his mouth slightly open, staring with his eyes wide open. Slowly, the others turned to look at Raistlin, following Tanis's gaze.
Raistlin had pulled the shawl back off his head, revealing what he and Tas had been so occupied with upstairs. His entire face, neck, and chest - where it was exposed - were coated in a thin layer of grease and gold paint, giving his skin an oily, golden sheen. His hair has been covered in flour; every time he moved, dust rose from his white hair. Finally, to top it all off, Raistlin launched into another one of his coughing fits, throwing himself to the floor with such abandon this time that a small cloud of flour dust rose all around him.
When the dust settled, Raistlin picked himself up and, coldly returning the stares of several other nervous-looking inn patrons, calmly resumed his seat.
Caramon, Tanis, and Flint stared at Raistlin, gaping, mouths hanging open. Sturm crossed his arms boredly. Tas shrugged matter-of-factly. "It's his cough," he explained.
Raistlin nodded. "Thank you, apprentice."
Sturm sighed. "All right, that's it. I say we turn the kender - he's bound to have stolen something by now - over to the local authorities, Raistlin over to the local mages, and we go home and somebody else deal with these two loonies!"
Flint jabbed Sturm in the ribs and hissed at him to be quiet.
Tanis took over command again. "Nobody's going anywhere until we get this settled," he said firmly. Turning to Raistlin, attempting to calm his voice, he went on, "Now then, Raistlin, why don't you show us some of your magic? Maybe a light spell or... something," he finished lamely. Flint frowned at him. Tanis shrugged.
Raistlin's eyes flared. He gestured dismissively with one hand - also painted gold, just like his face - and sneered. "A light spell?" he said incredulously. "A light spell?" He broke into that weird, high-pitched, screeching laughter again.
Every occupant of the inn, to a man, pitched himself under his table and clamped his hands over his ears. Somewhere, a horse whickered loudly and a baby began to cry. The dogs of Solace took up their howling again.
Abruptly, Raistlin stopped laughing. Everyone came out from under their tables, and the dogs outside went quiet again.
"Wow!" Tas whispered reverently.
"What was that?" Flint said, clutching at his chest, panting.
The kender readjusted the folds of the voluminous black dress in order to see better. "That was the Shelfey!" he declared cheerfully.
Flint just sighed and nodded. "I figured as much."
"Show us some of your magic."
Tanis had called an emergency conference. It was nearing one in the afternoon, and the Majere house had become stifling in the summer heat. Therefore, Tanis had decided to move the meeting to the Inn of the Last Home.
When Caramon first heard this, he had been mortified. "You aren't going to go anywhere wearing... that... are you, Raist?" he'd said, giving a miserable look to the dusty hair, pink shawl, and broom-staff of his twin.
"Don't be ridiculous, Caramon!" Raistlin had snapped.
Caramon breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because I thought you might-"
Raistlin went on, ignoring his brother, "Of course I'm going to go out wearing this! After all, these are my red robes, and I, as a red-robed mage, must wear them at all possible times." He gave proud tug at the fringe on the floral-patterned pink shawl.
Caramon groaned, sighed resignedly, and put on a spare pair of Tanis's boots.
Now, Tanis, Flint, the young Sturm, and Caramon sat around a table at the Inn of the Last Home, trying to determine what to do. They had, of course, brought Raistlin with them - and he had immediately gone off to sit by himself at a table in the corner. And, of course, they had invited Tas to the meeting - though Flint had been adamantly against this - and the kender had accepted at once. After the first few minutes, however, Tas had grown bored and had migrated to Raistlin's table in the corner. The two had sat there, talking excitedly, and finally they had vanished upstairs. Tanis and the others, of course, hadn't noticed this, and so they all listened attentively while Tanis told his friends about the strange fit that had come over Raistlin.
"...And now, here we are," Tanis finished tiredly.
Sturm tilted his head imperiously and crossed his arms. "I knew sending Raistlin to that filthy mage's school would only come to evil," he said righteously.
Caramon frowned. "Hey! Don't call my brother evil!" he said defensively, hurt on behalf of his twin.
"I'll call him evil if that's what he is," Sturm shot back angrily.
Caramon shook his head. "He isn't evil! He's just... confused, that's all."
Flint snored. "Yeah, if by confused you mean not right in the head!" Caramon sniffled, hunkered down in his chair, and began to pout. Flint sobered. "There now, lad, it'll be all right. He'll come out of it eventually."
"Or so we hope," Sturm said darkly.
Tanis made a silencing gesture. "All right, that's enough. We're here to try and help Raistlin, not make fun of him," he said sternly.
"I'll help him, all right," Sturm muttered loudly. "Help him right down a well!"
"That's enough!" Tanis half-shouted. The few patrons in the inn this early afternoon looked up to see what the commotion was about. Tanis reddened and lowered his voice. "I've got an idea. Maybe if we can get Raistlin to try to work his magic and he realizes he can't, he'll snap out of it and remember that he isn't a wizard - or bat-whatever-it-is," he finished.
The rest of the group nodded their agreement, Sturm a bit more reluctantly than the others. As one, they turned to look at Caramon.
Caramon sighed. "All right, fine," he said resignedly. He got up and trooped to the bottom of the stairs. "Raistlin, could you come down here for a second?" he called up loudly.
The companions couldn't see Raistlin from their table, but they could see Caramon - and the shocked look on his face - clearly. Mouth slightly open in surprise, Caramon trooped back to the table.
Following Caramon was Tas, in the strangest outfit any of the friends had ever seen. The kender stumbled along behind Caramon wearing a grossly-too-big black dress - a faded affair of worn velvet, faded lace, and so many patches in so many clashing shades of black, gray, and brown that it had come to look something like a misguided patchwork quilt. Tas had one of the sleeves pulled up above his head, draped across his topknot dramatically, and, to his credit, the kender only tripped twice coming down the stairs and once coming across the room to meet his friends.
Caramon arrived at the table first, eyes as big around as saucers. "This is...." he trailed off, finishing with something no one could quite understand.
"What was that, Caramon?" Tanis asked with a half-frown.
Caramon swallowed and tried again. "This is Talamar the Dark, appendix to the Arch-maggot Raistlin Majere," he muttered, staring at his toes.
Flint burst out laughing. "Talamar the Dark! That's a good one!" He slapped his knees in mirth, his face turning a merry shade of red.
Sturm frowned darkly. "The mage-child has infected the kender," he said mournfully. "Now we'll have to throw them both down the well." The young Solamnic didn't seem overly distressed at the thought.
Tanis gave Tas a strange look. "Appendix to a what-maggot?"
Tas stamped his foot and crossed his arms, fixing the half-elf with his best scowl. "My Shelfey says-"
Tanis cut him off. "Your what?"
"Shelfey!" Tas said impatiently. "You know, Shelfey - the Elven word for master!"
Tanis put a hand over his mouth to hide a grin. "That's Shalafi, Tas."
"Oh." The kender shrugged, then suddenly remembered he was supposed to be scowling. He put on his menacing look again. "Now then. My name is Talamar the Dark, the Apprentice, Caramon - an appendix is a useless little thing somewhere in your stomach, I think - the Apprentice of the Archmagus Raistlin Majere. I have come on behalf of the Shelfey to serve as a messenger." Tas broke into a grin. "I've never been anybody's apprentice before. Isn't it wonderful, Tanis? Raistlin says he'll teach me how to turn people into crickets and cast fireballs and do all kinds of other wonderful magic!"
Suddenly, though none of the companions had seen him arrive, Raistlin was standing behind Tas, the pink shawl draped over his head, his hands behind his back. The kender, busy talking, didn't seem to notice.
"And once I'm done being an apprentice, Raistlin says that fat innkeepers will bow to me," -at this phrase, Raistlin stiffened and ground his teeth a bit in frustration- "and I can have his Staff of Magius for a little while, and even though it looks like a broom - a kind of beat up, dusty old broom, now that I think about it - Raistlin says it has all kinds of really neat powers and spells and things, and-"
Raistlin cleared his throat.
The kender half-jumped out of his dress. He spun around and then, seeing who it was, immediately bowed. "I'm supposed to bow," he whispered loudly to Tanis over his shoulder, "because that's what apprentices do to their Shelfeys."
Raistlin took a step toward the kender, suddenly very menacing in the pink floral-pattern shawl. "You, apprentice, have been spying on me!" he said in a very soft, very dangerous voice.
Tas shook his head wildly. "No I haven't! Honest!"
"Then what were you doing telling them about your training?" Raistlin demanded, backing the kender away from the table, into a corner.
"Aw, come on, Raistlin! I wasn't telling them anything really important - and besides, they're your friends! They wouldn't do anything to hurt you."
Raistlin paused a moment in contemplation.
Caramon, Tanis, and Flint all held their breaths. Sturm rolled his eyes.
"Even now, the fools plot against me," Raistlin said finally. "No, apprentice, you must pay the price. For conspiring against me... for spying... for being a traitor... you will PAY!"
"No!" Caramon shouted, diving off his chair towards his twin, but even as he flew through the air, he realized he was too late. His brother pulled the object he'd had concealed behind his back, raised it over the kender, gave his apprentice a menacing glare and...
...upended somebody's mug of ale over the kender's head, just as Caramon, skidding across the slick stone floor head-first, careened into him. The twins went flying into a wall, Tas got sopping wet, and Flint bruised himself in the ribs from falling out of his stool laughing. In the end, however, the ale mug - shattered when Caramon flew into his brother - was the only casualty.
Once they had untangled the twins, Tanis bodily carried Raistlin back to the table, sat him down, and, threatening him sternly, went to dry off the kender. Tas gratefully accepted a towel and, after squeezing most of the ale out of his topknot, took a seat next to Tanis. Flint, finally recovering from his laughing fit, resumed his seat also. Sturm had never stood up in the first place, so Caramon, looking even more profoundly miserable than before, was the last to sit down.
"Why didn't you make me your apprentice?" Caramon asked his brother in a wounded tone.
"Because, Caramon, you are a cloth-headed ignoramus with the insignificantly miniscule arcane abilities of a rather dim-witted, unintelligent specimen of spore mold!" Raistlin said, pulling the pink shawl a little lower over his face.
Caramon frowned, trying to puzzle out what his brother had said to him. Flint patted the boy on the shoulder. "There now, lad, don't worry about it," the dwarf said consolingly. "It doesn't look like it'd be much fun to be his apprentice, anyway. Just look at Tas, sopping wet."
Tas gave an enigmatic smile and shrugged. "It was the price I had to pay for my magic," he said cheerfully, squeezing the last few drops from the tip of his topknot.
Raistlin shot Tas a deadly glare. "Quit stealing my lines!
Tanis decided he had best interrupt before Tas got another ale-mug emptied over his head. "Let's get back to the reason we asked Raistlin down here in the first place," he said hurriedly. The others quieted. "Now then. Raistlin, we want to see..." Tanis suddenly trailed off, his mouth slightly open, staring with his eyes wide open. Slowly, the others turned to look at Raistlin, following Tanis's gaze.
Raistlin had pulled the shawl back off his head, revealing what he and Tas had been so occupied with upstairs. His entire face, neck, and chest - where it was exposed - were coated in a thin layer of grease and gold paint, giving his skin an oily, golden sheen. His hair has been covered in flour; every time he moved, dust rose from his white hair. Finally, to top it all off, Raistlin launched into another one of his coughing fits, throwing himself to the floor with such abandon this time that a small cloud of flour dust rose all around him.
When the dust settled, Raistlin picked himself up and, coldly returning the stares of several other nervous-looking inn patrons, calmly resumed his seat.
Caramon, Tanis, and Flint stared at Raistlin, gaping, mouths hanging open. Sturm crossed his arms boredly. Tas shrugged matter-of-factly. "It's his cough," he explained.
Raistlin nodded. "Thank you, apprentice."
Sturm sighed. "All right, that's it. I say we turn the kender - he's bound to have stolen something by now - over to the local authorities, Raistlin over to the local mages, and we go home and somebody else deal with these two loonies!"
Flint jabbed Sturm in the ribs and hissed at him to be quiet.
Tanis took over command again. "Nobody's going anywhere until we get this settled," he said firmly. Turning to Raistlin, attempting to calm his voice, he went on, "Now then, Raistlin, why don't you show us some of your magic? Maybe a light spell or... something," he finished lamely. Flint frowned at him. Tanis shrugged.
Raistlin's eyes flared. He gestured dismissively with one hand - also painted gold, just like his face - and sneered. "A light spell?" he said incredulously. "A light spell?" He broke into that weird, high-pitched, screeching laughter again.
Every occupant of the inn, to a man, pitched himself under his table and clamped his hands over his ears. Somewhere, a horse whickered loudly and a baby began to cry. The dogs of Solace took up their howling again.
Abruptly, Raistlin stopped laughing. Everyone came out from under their tables, and the dogs outside went quiet again.
"Wow!" Tas whispered reverently.
"What was that?" Flint said, clutching at his chest, panting.
The kender readjusted the folds of the voluminous black dress in order to see better. "That was the Shelfey!" he declared cheerfully.
Flint just sighed and nodded. "I figured as much."