before dark."

Caramon obeyed. He always obeyed when his twin commanded. Raistlin was the acknowledged thinker of the two,

a fact that Caramon cheerfully admitted. Caramon had come to depend on Raistlin's guidance in most areas of life,

including the games they played with the other boys, games such as Goblin Ball, Kender Keep Away, and Thane

Beneath the Mountain. Due to his frail health, Raistlin could not participate in such exuberant sports, but he

watched intently. His quick mind developed strategies for winning, which he passed on to his brother.

Minus Raistlin's tutelage, Caramon would mistakenly score goals for his opponents in Goblin Ball. He nearly

always ended up being the kender in Kender Keep Away, and he constantly fell victim to the military tactics of the

older Sturm Brightblade in Thane Beneath the Mountain. When Raistlin was there to remind him which end of the

field was which, and to offer cunning ploys to outwit his opponents, Caramon was the winner more often than not.

Once again he clucked at the horse. The cart rolled down the rutted road. The catcalls ended. The boys grew bored

and turned to other sport.

"I don't understand why you didn't let me pound them," Caramon complained.

Because, Raistlin answered silently, I know what would happen, how it would end. You would "pound them," as

you so elegantly put it, my brother. Then you would help them to their feet, slap them on their backs, tell them you

know they didn't mean it, and in the end you would all be the best of friends.

Except for me. Except for the "Sly One."

No, the lesson will be mine to teach. They will learn what it means to be sly.

He might have continued to sit, brooding and plotting and mulling over such wrongs, but for his brother, who was

rattling

on about their parents, their friends, and the fine day. Caramon's cheerful gossip teased his brother out of his ill

humor. The air was soft and warm and smelled of growing things, compounded with horse and newly mown grass,

much better smells than that of cooked cabbage and boys who bathed only once a week.

Raistlin breathed deeply of the soft, fragrant air and didn't cough. The sunshine warmed him pleasantly, and he

found himself listening with keen enjoyment to his brother's conversation.

"Father's been gone these last three weeks and likely won't be back until the end of the month. Mother

remembered that you were coming home today. She's been a lot better lately, Raist. You'll notice the change. Ever

since the Widow Judith started coming to stay with her when she has her bad days."

"Widow Judith?" said Raistlin sharply. "Who's Judith? And what do you mean, stay with Mother when she has her

bad days? What about you and Father?"

Caramon shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "It was a hard winter, Raist. You were gone. Father had to work. He

couldn't take off or we would have starved. When Farmer Sedge was snowed in and didn't need me, I got a job in the

stables, feeding the horses and mucking out. We tried leaving Mother alone, but-well, it wasn't working. One day she

tipped over a candle and didn't notice. It nearly burned down the house. We did the best we could, Raist."

Raistlin said nothing. He sat on the cart, grimly silent, angry at his father and brother. They should not have left

his mother in the care of strangers. He was angry at himself. He should not have left her.

"The Widow Judith's real nice, Raist," Caramon went on defensively. "Mother likes her a lot. Judith comes every

morning, and she helps Mother dress and fixes her hair. She makes her eat something, and then they do sewing and

stuff like that. Judith talks to Mother a lot and keeps her from going into her fits." He glanced uneasily at his

brother, "Sorry, I mean trances."

"What do they talk about?" Raistlin asked.

Caramon looked startled. "I dunno. Female stuff, I guess. I never listened."

"And how can we afford to pay this woman?"

Caramon grinned. "We don't pay her. That's what's great about this, Raist! She does it for nothing."

"Since when have we lived off charity'?" Raistlin demanded. "It's not charity, Raist. We offered to pay her, but she

wouldn't

take it. She helps others as part of her religion-that new order we heard about in Haven. The Belzorites or some

such thing. She's one of them."

"I don't like this," Raistlin said, frowning. "No one does something for nothing. What is she after?"

"After? What could she be after? It's not like we have a house crammed with jewels. The Widow Judith's just