“Pooh! I can take care of myself. I’ll bet you’ve been to a lot of places,” Catherine said wistfully.
“Oh, my, yes. All around Krynn. Southern Ergoth, Northern Ergoth, Solamnia-”
“I’ve never been anywhere but here.”
Earwig looked intently at the woman across the bar from him. She stood straight and strong, her arms well-muscled. He believed that she could handle herself in almost any situation.
“You remind me a little of someone I know. Her name’s Kitiara.”
“Really? What’s she like?”
“She’s a fierce and cunning warrior,” said the kender.
Catherine looked a little shocked. “Wh-why thank you, Earwig. I think.…”
“You sound like you want to leave this place.” The kender took several gulps of his drink. “Why don’t you just pick up and go?”
“I don’t have the steel yet.”
“You don’t need money to travel! All you need is a hoopak and a good walking tune.” Earwig laughed, swinging his hoopak into the air. He was feeling really good. He couldn’t remember ever having felt this good before.
Catherine shrugged and frowned. She leaned back from her guest, propping her elbows against a shelf.
“I’m sorry, Catherine. I didn’t mean to make you unhappy.” Earwig rummaged through his pockets, pulling out the first thing he came to-the tangle of wire with the bead in it. “Here. I want you to have this.”
The barmaid, smiling in spite of herself, reached over to take the gift. Holding the wire up to the light, she stared at it in fascination. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I got it when I was on some adventure with my friends. We go adventuring a lot together, my friends and I. One of them is a magic-user,” the kender added importantly.
“This is really amazing, Earwig.” Catherine was still staring at the wire. “If you look closely, it appears that the bead has writing on it!”
Earwig heard the door open behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He was trying to remember how Caramon got girls to kiss him. Catherine glanced up and hurriedly tucked the wire away in a pocket. She nodded once, and then leaned over the bar, her face close to the kender’s.
“Tell me about your friends,” she said. “Tell me about the mage. I’d love to meet him.”
“Raistlin and Caramon? They were born in a place called Solace, to the east of here. Caramon is a great and powerful warrior. His muscles are as big as … as that,” Earwig said pointing to a beer barrel in the corner. “I’ve seen him cut twenty men in two with one stroke!”
“No! Really?” Catherine appeared nervous. She seemed to have to force her eyes to remain on the kender.
Earwig blinked. Leaning over, he said confidentially, “Don’t look now, Cather … Cather … whatever. But your walls are spinning around and around.”
“You need another drink. That’s all. Tell me about your other friend.”
“My other friend’s name is … Raishlin. He has shkin that shines like gold, and eyes the shape of hourglasses. He sees death,” the kender said solemnly, sticking his nose in his drink. “But, as frightening as that shounds, even more frightening are the spells he casts and powers he can call down to deshtroy an enemy.”
“There used to be a wizard who lived in the hills to the east,” Catherine said, darting a swift glance behind the kender.
“Whatsh his name?”
“Nobody knows, but it’s rumored that his cave is still there. It’s built around a series of stones that look like an animal’s paw.”
The walls were spinning more rapidly, and now the ceiling had joined in, much to Earwig’s fascination. He sat on the stool, watching them revolve around and around and then the stool joined the wild dance, spinning the kender around and around until Earwig suddenly discovered that he was lying on the floor.
A man dressed in black leather armor loomed over him, knelt beside him. Strong hands lifted the kender and flung him over a massive shoulder.
“You won’t hurt him?” Catherine’s voice floated around the kender like a lovely cloud.
“No,” said a harsh voice in reply. “Like our lord told you. The little fellow’s in danger, wearing that necklace around in the open. We want to protect him, that’s all. Thanks for your help.”
Earwig, bobbing up and down against the man’s back, started to feel incredibly dizzy. He stared, bleary-eyed, at Catherine, who seemed to be growing smaller and smaller and smaller.
“One Celebration Punch … for the … road!” cried the kender, and passed out.
“Ack! Ugh!”
“What is it, Caramon?”
“There’s a stream running through here! It’s as cold as ice. You better let me carry you.”
Raistlin climbed down the stairs and plunged into the water. “Nonsense! Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
Caramon peered into the darkness, trying to locate his twin.
“Are you sure. I mean, I know how much you hate getting wet and cold.”
“As I said, I am fine,” the mage snapped irritably. “If the cold bothers you so much, perhaps you would like me to carry you?”
“No, of course not!” Caramon felt foolish.
“Shirak.”
The soft white light of the Staff of Magius filled the tunnel. A long, dark, passage extended ahead of them, far beyond the summoned field of magical light. The walls glistened wetly.
“It smells bad,” said Caramon. “But not quite what I expected from a sewer. It smells like … iron.” He sounded disbelieving.
“Or blood,” said Raistlin softly.
“Yeah.”
There was no room to swing a sword. Caramon drew a dagger from its sheath. Its blade gleamed in the light of the staff.
“We must therefore assume that this is not a sewer, but a connection to a waterway,” Raistlin added.
The cat meowed impatiently, and the mage walked forward, moving past his brother. Caramon started to protest-he always took the point when the two walked into danger together. But he remembered, then, that Raistlin carried the light. He kept close behind him.
The cat moved slowly, ensuring that his followers would not become lost in what Caramon soon discovered was a maze of tunnels. The feline didn’t appear to like the water any better than the warrior, for it shook its paw with each step and seemed to grimace at setting a foot back into the stream.
They walked for what seemed like miles, though something in the back of Caramon’s mind insisted that they had not gone any great distance at all.
“What are you saying, Caramon?”
“I said we could use a dwarf now,” the warrior replied. “I wish I could see better! Anything could jump out at us.”
“I don’t sense any threat to ourselves down here. The only feeling I get from this place is that it is old … very, very old.”
“Old and forgotten.”
“I agree, my brother. It is most unusual.”
They walked and walked. The chill water seeped through Caramon’s boots. He was shivering and he worried about his twin, knowing that Raistlin’s robes must be soaked through. The warrior knew better, however, than to ask. The cat made a sudden turn, darting down another passage that angled off from the first. The new passage was equally as black as the old. Caramon hesitated, but the cat meowed, urging them to come forward.
Without hesitation, Raistlin walked on, holding the staff at eye-level, able to raise it no higher because of the low roof.
“Come, Caramon. Don’t fall behind!”
They came to an intersection, and the black cat skipped on, moving to the left, beginning to run, splashing through the water. The brothers increased their pace, both prompted by curiosity.
“-which killed the cat,” Caramon said, but under his breath.
The tunnels became a dizzying maze, a labyrinth created for some unknown purpose. Raistlin held the Staff of Magius forward, a lance of light piercing the dark. Caramon sloshed along behind. He noticed that the walls were beginning to change, becoming drier.
“Look at that!” Raistlin breathed, holding up the staff.
The wall was covered with paintings and engravings, showing sights neither brother could identify. They moved swiftly on, left and right, straight and back, a curving tunnel leading to a crooked passage leading to a sloping floor.