“Raist?” said Caramon, shaking him.
The mage started and sat up swiftly. “Not yet! Now is not the time! I must be stronger.…”
“Raist!” said Caramon.
The mage blinked and stared around, wondering where he was. Then, recognizing the room and his twin, he closed his eyes and sighed.
“Are you all right? Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Not much,” Raistlin conceded. “But that is not important. I now know the exact time.”
“Time for what?”
“For when the three moons converge.” Raistlin spoke in hollow tones. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. “We have exactly one day, one night, and another day. Tomorrow night, when the darkness is deepest, it will be lit by the Great Eye.”
“What do we do now?”
“Now we look for the cats. I can’t believe they have simply vanished off the face of Krynn. Once we find them, we will hold the key to the mystery.”
“And tonight …”
Caramon spoke reluctantly, hoping Raistlin had either forgotten his instructions of the previous evening or had changed his mind. The big warrior just couldn’t envision himself asking that lovely, regal woman to accompany him on an evening’s romantic tryst. He had no doubt she would laugh at him.
His twin pointed to a scroll rolled up and wrapped with red ribbon. “The kender brought that for you last night after you were asleep. It is from Lady Shavas.”
Caramon felt the blood rush to his face. He reached for the scroll, opened it, and glanced at it. There was no need to read it to his twin. He knew Raistlin would have looked at it last night.
The warrior cleared his throat. He should feel elated, but he didn’t. He felt cold all over. “It’s like … she’s reading our minds.”
“Isn’t it?” said Raistlin, rising to his feet. “Wake Earwig. I need him.”
“You do?” Caramon stared, astonished.
“Yes.” Raistlin gave his brother a shrewd look. “Or, let us say, I need to know where he is … and where he is not.”
Caramon, not understanding, shrugged, and went to wake the kender.
The warrior had absolutely no idea how to begin searching for missing cats, other than by dragging a string around and shouting, “Here, puss! Here, puss!” He had other, more important worries. The streets, previously so empty, were today crowded with people, talking about last night’s murder. Their voices stopped whenever the red-robed mage came into view. Soon they started up again, this time finding a focus for their fear.
“It was magic killed our lord.… No one ever died until a wizard came to town! … Likely killed our cats, too!”
Caramon stalked the streets, hand on the hilt of his sword, glaring balefully at any who might have the nerve to speak too loudly or take a step toward Raistlin. Whether it was the aura of mystery and power surrounding the magic-user or the threat of the strong arm and sharp blade of the warrior beside him, nobody came close. The people melted away, sidling into alleys or ducking into dark doorways. But Caramon heard the muttered threats and saw the hatred on the faces as he, his twin, and the kender passed.
They’d walked about half a mile from Barnstoke Hall, traveling on one of the three main thoroughfares of Mereklar, when Raistlin came to a stop.
“Now, instructions. Earwig, I have a spell that will lead us to the cats, but in order to cast it, I need a bagful of a certain herb-nepeta cataria. When you find it, meet us back at Barnstoke Hall.”
Earwig leaped at Raistlin, clutching at him, nearly knocking him over. “No! Please don’t make me leave you. I really want to stay with you! I feel … afraid if I’m not with you.”
“Hey, let go!” Caramon said, dragging the kender off his brother. “What’s got into you? Kender aren’t afraid of anything!”
“Don’t make me leave you, Caramon!” Earwig was clinging to the big man’s arm, despite all Caramon’s efforts to shake him loose. “Please! I’ll behave …”
Raistlin’s hand slipped into his pouch. He drew out a handful of rose petals and slowly sifted them over the kender’s head.
“Ast tasarak sinuralan krynawi,” he murmured.
Earwig suddenly yawned and began to rub his eyes.
“I’ll be goooo.…” The kender’s fingers slipped off Caramon’s arm. Earwig crumpled over in a heap on the sidewalk.
“What happened?” Caramon knelt down beside his little friend.
“He’s all right, my brother,” said Raistlin. “He’s asleep.”
Earwig had begun to snore softly.
“Lift him up onto that bench so that no one steps on him,” Raistlin instructed. “Now, you and I can proceed with our search alone.” The mage’s gaze went to the ring on the kender’s hand.
Caramon did as he was told. They left Earwig, blissfully snoring, in a hyava shop.
“What was that stuff you wanted him to get? Some kind of herb?”
“Nepeta cataria.” The mage smiled slightly. “Catnip.”
The brothers continued up the street, appearing to do nothing more than look in shop and store windows. But all the stores were empty, the houses had their windows shuttered. People roamed the streets, sharing their own fear and panic.
“It’s like a town under siege,” Caramon remarked.
“Precisely. And for much the same reason. Fear. Terror. And notice,” added Raistlin. “No cats. Anywhere.”
Caramon glanced around. “You’re right! I haven’t seen one! Have they all disappeared?”
“I don’t think so. I think they’re in hiding. They, too, are afraid.”
Caramon wondered at their destination. Raistlin seemed to have an exact idea of where he was going and walked without hesitation. The warrior thought he understood when he saw the park, the same park Lord Manion had been killed in the night before. No one was around, the townspeople avoiding the place as if it were infected with the plague.
“What are we doing here?” Caramon asked uncomfortably, having much the same impression himself.
His brother did not answer. The mage stopped near a bench. Leaning on his staff, he stared at the trampled grass.
Caramon, growing increasingly nervous, pulled out the yellow ball Maggie had given him and began to play with it, trying to distract his gloomy thoughts. But thinking of Maggie made him think of Shavas. He knew he should be looking forward to tonight-what man wouldn’t, being alone with a beautiful, desirable woman? But there was the knowledge in the back of Caramon’s mind that he was using the woman, deceiving her. He was a diversion, nothing more. He didn’t like it and he had about decided to tell Raistlin he wasn’t going when he felt a light tugging at his hand.
Caramon looked down. The black cat, sitting on its hind legs, was batting at the ball.
“Hello,” Caramon said, bending over to pick up the cat.
The feline bounded sideways, ears and tail twitching. The warrior shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the bench, shutting his eyes against the morning glare. The cat brushed up against his legs.
“All right, I’ll pet you,” he said, leaning down.
The cat turned and walked away, craning its head back to regard the fighter with reflecting eyes. Caramon shook his head. “What a strange animal.”
Raistlin seemed to wake from a dream. He stared at the cat intently.
“Isn’t that the same cat who came with us last night, the one you had on your shoulder?”
“I guess so. It’s the only black cat I’ve seen in town.”
Raistlin watched it. “He wanted us to follow.”
“How can you tell?”
The cat dashed off, then dashed up to Caramon again. The warrior took a step after it and it ran off again.
“Let’s see where it takes us,” said Raistlin.
The cat raced ahead of them about twenty feet, heading around the park to the western portion of the city. Just when it seemed that they would lose the animal, it stopped, waiting for them, sitting on the ground patiently. When the twins were within arm’s reach, the cat darted off again, moving in the same direction.