As they neared Solace, a small boy sighted them, began waving his arms, and broke into a run. He came pounding along the dusty track to meet them.
"Hullo, young Ned," said Caramon, who knew every child in town. "I can't play Goblin Ball with you right now, but maybe after dinner we-"
"Hush, Caramon," Raistlin ordered tersely. The child was wide-eyed and solemn as an owlet. "Can't you see? Something's wrong. What is it? What has happened?"
"There's been an accident," the boy managed to gasp, out of breath. "Your. your father."
He might have said more, but he'd lost his audience. The twins were racing for home. Raistlin ran as fast as he could for a short distance, but not even fear and adrenaline could keep his frail body going for long. His strength gave out and he was forced to slow down. Caramon kept going but, after a few moments, realized he was alone. He paused to look behind for his brother. Raistlin waved his brother on ahead.
Are you sure? Caramon's worried look asked. I am sure, Raistlin's look answered.
Caramon nodded once, turned, and kept running. Raistlin made what haste he could, anxiety knotting his stomach and chilling him, causing him to shiver in the summer sunshine. Raistlin was surprised at his reaction. He had not supposed he cared this much for his father.
They had driven Gilon in a wagon from Prayer's Eye Peak back to Solace. Raistlin arrived to find his father still in the wagon with a crowd gathered around. At the news of the accident, almost everyone in town who could leave his work had come running, come to stare at the unfortunate man in mingled horror, concern, and curiosity.
Rosamun stood at the side of the wagon, holding fast to her husband's bloodstained hand and weeping. The Widow Judith was at her side.
"Have faith in Belzor," the widow was saying, "and he will be healed. Have faith."
"I do," Rosamun was saying over and over through pale lips. "I do have faith. Oh, my poor husband. You will be well. I have faith…"
People standing nearby glanced at each other and shook their heads. Someone went to fetch the stable owner, who was supposed to know all about setting broken bones. Otik arrived from the inn, his chubby face drawn and grieved. He had brought along a jug of his finest brandy, his customary offering in any medical emergency.
"Tie Gilon to a stretcher," the Widow Judith said. "We'll carry him up the stairs. He will mend better in his own home."
A dwarf, a fellow townsman whom Raistlin knew by sight, glowered at her. "Are you daft, woman! Jouncing him around like that will kill him!"
"He shall not die!" said the Widow Judith loudly. "Belzor will save him!"
The townspeople standing around exchanged glances. Some rolled their eyes, but others looked interested and attentive.
"He better do it fast, then," muttered the dwarf, standing on tiptoe to peer into the wagon. Beside him, a kender was jumping up and down, clamoring, "Let me see, Flint! Let me see!"
Caramon had climbed into the wagon. Almost as pale as his father, Caramon crouched beside Gilon, anxious and helpless. At the sight of the terrible injuries-Gilon's cracked rib bones protruded through his flesh, and one leg was little more than a sodden mass of blood and bone-a low, animal-like moan escaped Caramon's lips.
Rosamun paid no attention to her stricken son. She stood at the side of the wagon, clutching Gilon's hand and whispering frantically about having faith.
"Raist!" Caramon cried in a hollow voice, looking around in panic.
"I am here, my brother," Raistlin said quietly. He climbed into the wagon beside Caramon.
Caramon grasped hold of his twin's hand thankfully, gave a shuddering sigh. "Raist! What can we do? We have to do something. Think of something to do, Raist!"
"There's nothing to do, son," said the dwarf kindly. "Nothing except wish your father well on his next journey."
Raistlin examined the injured man and knew immediately that the dwarf was right. How Gilon had managed to live this long was a mystery.
"Belzor is here!" the Widow Judith intoned shrilly. "Belzor will heal this man!" Belzor, Raistlin thought bitterly, is taking his own sweet time. "Father!" Caramon cried out.
At the sound of his son's voice, Gilon shifted his eyes-he could not move his head-and searched for his sons.
His gaze found them, rested on them. "Take care. your mother," he managed to whisper. A froth of blood coated his lips.
Caramon sobbed and covered his face with his hand. "We will, Father," Raistlin promised.
Gilon's gaze encompassed both his sons. He managed a fleeting smile, then looked over at Rosamun. He started to say something, but a tremor of pain shook him. He closed his eyes in agony, gave a great groan, and lay still.
The dwarf removed his hat, held it to his chest. "Reorx walk with him," he said softly.
"The poor man's dead. Oh, how sad!" said the kender, and a tear trickled down his cheek.
It was the first time death had come so close to Raistlin. He felt it as a physical presence, passing among them, dark wings spreading over them. He felt small and insignificant, naked and vulnerable.
So sudden. An hour ago Gilon had walked among the trees, thinking of nothing more important than what he might enjoy for dinner that night.
So dark. Endless darkness, eternal. It was not the absence of light that was as frightening as the absence of thought, of knowledge, of comprehension. Our lives, the lives of the living, will go on. The sun shines, the moons rise, we will laugh and talk, and he will know nothing, feel nothing. Nothing.
So final. It will come to us all. It will come to me.
Raistlin thought he should be grieved or sorrowful for his father, but all he felt was sorrow for himself, grief for his own mortality. He turned away from the broken corpse, only to find his mother still clinging to the lifeless hand, stroking the cooling flesh, urging Gilon to speak to her.
"Caramon, we have to see to Mother," Raistlin said urgently.
"We must take her home."
But on turning, he found that Caramon was in need of assistance himself. He had collapsed near the body of his father. Painful, choking sobs wrenched him. Raistlin rested his hand comfortingly on Caramon's arm.
Caramon's big hand closed convulsively around his twin's. Raistlin could not free himself, nor did he want to. He found comfort in his brother's touch. But he didn't like the fey look on his mother's face.
"Come, Mother. Let the Widow Judith take you home."
"No, no!" cried Rosamun frantically. "I must not leave your father. He needs me."
"Mother," Raistlin said, now starting to be frightened. "Father is dead. There is nothing more-"
"Dead!" Rosamun looked bewildered. "Dead! No! He can't be! I have faith."
Rosamun flung herself on her husband. Her hands grasped his blood-soaked shirt. "Gilon! Wake up!"
Gilon's head lolled. A trickle of blood flowed from his mouth.
"I have faith," Rosamun repeated with a heartbroken whimper. Her hands were bloody, she clung to the blood-soaked shirt.
"Mother, please, go home!" Raistlin pleaded helplessly.
Otik took hold of Rosamun's hands and gently freed her grip. Another neighbor hurriedly covered the body with a blanket.
"So much for Belzor the," said the dwarf in a grating undertone.
He had not meant his words to be overheard, but his voice was deep and had a good carrying quality to it. Everyone standing around heard him. A few looked shocked. Several shook their heads. One or two smiled grimly when they thought no one was watching.