Time of the Twins by Margaret Weis;Tracy Hickman;Michael Williams

Author:Margaret Weis;Tracy Hickman;Michael Williams
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Dragonlance, Young Adult, Fantasy, .Correct&Complete, .Reading List, Romance, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780786918041
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 1986-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

The kender opened his eyes. For a moment, he had no idea where he was or even who he was. He had heard a voice speaking a name that sounded vaguely familiar. Confused, the kender looked around. He was lying on top of a big man, who was flat on his back in the middle of a street. The big man was regarding him with utter astonishment, perhaps because Tas was perched upon his broad stomach.

“Tas?” the big man repeated, and this time his face grew puzzled. “Are you supposed to be here?”

“I-I’m really not sure,” the kender said, wondering who “Tas” was. Then it all came back to him—hearing Par-Salian chanting, ripping the ring off his thumb, the blinding light, the singing stones, the mage’s horrified shriek . . .

“Of course, I’m supposed to be here,” Tas snapped irritably, blocking out the memory of Par-Salian’s fearful yell. “You don’t think they’d let you come back here by yourself, do you?” The kender was practically nose to nose with the big man.

Caramon’s puzzled look darkened to a frown. “I’m not sure,” he muttered, “but I don’t think you—”

“Well, I’m here.” Tas rolled off Caramon’s rotund body to land on the cobblestones beneath them. “Wherever ‘here’ is,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Let me help you up,” he said to Caramon, extending his small hand, hoping this action would take Caramon’s mind off him. Tas didn’t know whether or not he could be sent back, but he didn’t intend to find out.

Caramon struggled to sit up, looking for all the world like an overturned turtle, Tas thought with a giggle. And it was then the kender noticed that Caramon was dressed much differently than he had been when they left the Tower. He had been wearing his own armor (as much of it that fit), a loose-fitting tunic made of fine cloth, sewn together with Tika’s loving care.

But, now, he was wearing coarse cloth, slovenly stitched together. A crude leather vest hung from his shoulders. The vest might have had buttons once, but, if so, they were gone now. Buttons weren’t needed anyway, Tas thought, for there was no way the vest would have stretched to fit over Caramon’s sagging gut. Baggy leather breeches and patched leather boots with a big hole over one toe completed the unsavory picture.

“Whew!” Caramon muttered, sniffing. “What’s that horrible smell?”

“You,” Tas said, holding his nose and waving his hand as though this might dissipate the odor. Caramon reeked of dwarf spirits! The kender regarded him closely. Caramon had been sober when they’d left, and he certainly looked sober now. His eyes, if confused, were clear and he was standing, straight, without weaving.

The big man looked down and, for the first time, saw himself.

“What? How?” he asked, bewildered.

“You’d think,” Tas said sternly, regarding Caramon’s clothes in disgust, “that the mages could afford something better than this! I mean, I know this spell must be hard on clothes, but surely—”

A sudden thought occurred to him. Fearfully, Tas looked down at his clothes, then breathed a sigh of relief.

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