“I will not give in,” he muttered when he could breathe. “You will not win me over so easily, my Queen.” Staggering out of bed, so weak he had to pause more than once to rest, he put on the black robes and made his way to his desk. Cursing the pain in his chest, he opened an ancient text on magical paraphernalia and began his laborious search.
Crysania, too, had slept poorly. Like Raistlin, she felt the nearness of all the gods, but of her god—Paladine—most of all. She felt his anger, but it was tinged with a sorrow so deep and devastating that Crysania could not bear it. Overwhelmed with guilt, she turned away from that gentle face and began to run. She ran and ran, weeping, unable to see where she was going. She stumbled and was falling into nothingness, her soul torn with fear. Then strong arms caught her. She was enfolded in soft black robes, held near a muscular body. Slender fingers stroked her hair, soothing her. She looked into a face—
Bells. Bells broke the stillness. Startled, Crysania sat up in bed, looking around wildly. Then, remembering the face she had seen, remembering the warmth of his body and the comfort she had found there, she put her aching head in her hands and wept.
Tasslehoff, on waking, at first felt disappointment. Today was Yule, he remembered, and also the day Raistlin said Dire Things would begin to happen. Looking around in the gray light that filtered through their window, the only dire thing Tas saw was Caramon, down on the floor, huffing and puffing his way grimly through morning exercises.
Although Caramon’s days were filled with weapons’ practice, working out with his team members, developing new parts of their routine, the big man still fought a never-ending battle with his weight. He had been taken off his diet and allowed to eat the same food as the others. But the sharp-eyed dwarf soon noticed that Caramon was eating about five times more than anyone else!
Once, the big man had eaten for pleasure. Now, nervous and unhappy and obsessed by thoughts of his brother, Caramon sought consolation in food as another might seek consolation in drink. (Caramon had, in fact, tried that once, ordering Tas to sneak a bottle of dwarf spirits in to him. But, unused to the strong alcohol, it had made him violently sick—much to the kender’s secret relief.)
Arack decreed, therefore, that Caramon could eat only if he performed a series of strenuous exercises each day. Caramon often wondered how the dwarf knew if he missed a day, since he did them early in the morning before anyone else was up. But Arack did know, somehow. The one morning Caramon had skipped the exercises, he had been denied access to the mess hall by a grinning, club-wielding Raag.
Growing bored with listening to Caramon grunt and groan and swear, Tas climbed up on a chair, peering out the window to see if there was anything dire happening outside. He felt cheered immediately.
“Caramon! Come look!” he called in excitement. “Have you ever seen a sky that peculiar shade before?”
“Ninety-nine, one hundred,” puffed the big man. Then Tas heard a large “ooof.” With a thud that shook the room, Caramon flopped down on his now rock-hard belly to rest. Then the big man heaved himself up off the stone floor and came to look out the barred window, mopping the sweat from his body with a towel.
Casting a bored glance outside, expecting nothing but an ordinary sunrise, the big man blinked, then his eyes opened wide.
“No,” he murmured, draping the towel around his neck and coming to stand behind Tas, “I never did. And I’ve seen some strange things in my time, too.”
“Oh, Caramon!” Tas cried, “Raistlin was right. He said—”
“Raistlin!”
Tas gulped. He hadn’t meant to bring that up.
“Where did you see Raistlin?” Caramon demanded, his voice deep and stern.
“In the Temple, of course,” Tas answered as if it were the most common thing in the world. “Didn’t I mention I went there yesterday?”
“Yes, but you—”
“Well, why else would I go except to see our friends?”
“You never—”
“I saw Lady Crysania and Raistlin. I’m sure I mentioned that. You never do listen to me, you know,” Tas complained, wounded. “You sit there on that bed, every night, brooding and sulking and talking to yourself. ‘Caramon,’ I could say, ‘the roof’s caving in,’ and you’d say, ‘That’s nice, Tas.’”
“Look, kender, I know that if I had heard you mention—”
“Lady Crysania, Raistlin, and I had a wonderful little chat,” Tas hurried on, “all about Yule—by the way, Caramon, you should see how beautifully they’ve decorated the Temple! It’s filled with roses and everbloom and, say, did I remember to give you that candy? Wait, it’s right over there in my pouch. Just a minute”—the kender tried to jump off the chair, but Caramon had him cornered—“well, I guess it can wait. Where was I? Oh, yes”—seeing Caramon scowl—“Raistlin and Lady Crysania and I were talking and, oh, Caramon! It’s so exciting. Tika was right, she’s in love with your brother.”
Caramon blinked, having completely lost the thread of the conversation, which Tas, being rather careless with his pronouns, didn’t help.
“No, I don’t mean Tika’s in love with your brother,” Tas amended, seeing Caraman’s confusion. “I mean Lady Crysania’s in love with your brother! It was great fun. I was sort of leaning against Raistlin’s closed door, resting, waiting for them to finish their conversation, and I happened to glance in the keyhole and he almost kissed her, Caramon! Your brother! Can you imagine! But he didn’t.” The kender sighed. “He practically yelled at her to leave. She did, but she didn’t want to, I could tell. She was all dressed up and looked really pretty.”
Seeing Caramon’s face darken and the preoccupied look steal over it, Tas began to breathe a bit easier. “We got to talking about the Cataclysm, and Raistlin mentioned how Dire Things would begin happening today—Yule—as the gods tried to warn the people to change.”
“In love with him?” Caramon muttered. Frowning, he turned away, letting Tas slip off the chair.
“Right. Unmistakably,” the kender said glibly, hurrying over to his pouch and digging through it until he came to the batch of sweetmeats he had brought back. They were half-melted, sticking together in a gooey mass, and they had also acquired an outer coating of various bits and pieces from the kender’s pouch, but Tas was fairly certain Caramon would never notice. He was right. The big man accepted the treat and began to eat without even glancing at it.
“He needs a cleric, they said,” Caramon mumbled, his mouth full. “Were they right, after all? Is he going to go through with it? Should I let him? Should I try to stop him? Do I have the right to stop him? If she chooses to go with him, isn’t that her choice? Maybe that would be the best thing for him,” Caramon said softly, licking his sticky fingers. “Maybe, if she loves him enough...”
Tasslehoff sighed in relief and sank down on his bed to wait for the breakfast call. Caramon hadn’t thought to ask the kender why he’d gone to see Raistlin in the first place. And Tas was certain now, that he’d never remember he hadn’t. His secret was safe...
The sky was clear that Yule day, so clear it seemed one could look up into the vast dome that covered the world and see realms beyond. But, though everyone glanced up, few cared to fix their gazes upon it long enough to see anything. For the sky was indeed “a peculiar shade,” as Tas said—it was green.
A strange, noxious, ugly green that, combined with the stifling heat and the heavy, hard-to-breathe air, effectively sucked the joy and merriment out of Yule. Those forced to go outside to attend parties hurried through the sweltering streets, talking about the odd weather irritably, viewing it as a personal insult. But they spoke in hushed voices, each feeling a tiny sliver of fear prick their holiday spirit.
The party inside the Temple was somewhat more cheerful, being held in the Kingpriest’s chambers that were shut away from the outside world. None could see the strange sky, and all those who came within the presence of the Kingpriest felt their irritation and fear melt away. Away from Raistlin, Crysania was once again under the Kingpriest’s spell and sat near him a long time. She did not speak, she simply let his shining presence comfort her and banish the dark, nighttime thoughts. But she, too, had seen the green sky. Remembering Raistlin’s words, she tried to recall what she had heard of the Thirteen Days.