"It wouldn't have made any difference, would it, my brother?" Raistlin asked softly.

"None in the world," Caramon said. "None at all."

Raistlin released his mother's hand. The marks of his fingers were red on her pallid flesh. He took hold of his

brother's hand and held it tightly. They sat together in silence for long moments, finding comfort in each other, then

Raistlin looked quizzically at his brother.

"You are wise, Caramon. Did you know that?"

Caramon laughed, a great guffaw that broke like thunder in the dark room, alarmed him. He clapped his hand

over his mouth, flushed red.

"No, I'm not, Raist," he said in a smothered whisper. "You know me. Stupid as a gully dwarf. Everyone says so.

You got all the brains. But that's all right. You need them. I don't. Not so long as we're together."

Raistlin abruptly released his grip. He drew his hand away

and averted his face. "There is a difference between wisdom and intelligence, my brother." His voice was cold. "A

person may have one without the other.Why don't you go for a walk? Or go back to work for your farmer?"

"But, Raist-"

"It's not necessary for both of us to remain here. I can manage."

Caramon rose slowly to his feet. "Raist, I don't-"

"Please, Caramon!" Raistlin said. "If you must know the truth, you fidget and fuss, and that drives me to

distraction. You will feel better for the fresh air and exercise, and I will be better for the solitude."

"Sure, Raist," Caramon said. "If that's what you want. I'll ... I guess I'll go see Sturm. His mother came to call and

brought some fresh-baked bread. I'll just go and say thank you."

"You do that," Raistlin said dryly.

Caramon never knew what brought on these sudden dark and bitter moods, never knew what he'd said or done

that quenched the light in his brother as surely as if he'd doused him with cold water. He waited a moment to see if

his brother might relent, say something more, ask him to stay and keep him company. But Raistlin was dipping a bit

of cloth into a pitcher of water. He held the cloth to Rosamun's lips.

"You must drink a little of this, Mother," he said softly. Caramon sighed, turned, and left.

A day later, Rosamun was dead.

The twins buried their mother in the grave next to their

father. Only a few people stood with them at the burial. The day was wet and chill, with a touch of early

autumn in the air. Rain poured down steadily, soaking to the skin those who gathered around the grave. The rain

drummed on the wooden coffin, formed a small pool in the grave. The vallenwood sprig they planted drooped,

sad and forlorn, half-drowned.

Raistlin stood bareheaded in the rain, though Caramon had several times anxiously urged him to cover his

head with the hood of his cloak. Raistlin did not hear his brother's pleas. He heard nothing but the fall of the

drops on the wooden coffin, a small coffin, almost that of a child. Rosamun had shrunk to skin and bones in

those last terrible days. It was as if whatever she was seeing held her fast in its claws, gnawed her flesh, fed off

her, devoured her.

Raistlin knew he himself was going to fall ill. He recognized the symptoms. The fever already burned in his

blood. He was alternately sweating and shivering. His muscles ached. He wanted so much to sleep, but every

time he tried, he heard his mother's voice calling to him, and he would be instantly awake.

Awake to the silence, the dreadful silence.

He wanted to cry at the burial, but he did not. He forced the tears back down his throat. It wasn't that he was

ashamed of them. He did not know for certain for whom he wept-for his dead mother or for himself.

He was not aware of the ceremony, was not aware of the passage of time. He might have been standing on the

edge of that grave all his life. He knew it was over only when Caramon plucked at his sleeve. At that, it wasn't

Caramon who convinced

his twin to leave but the sound of the dirt clods striking the coffin, a hollow sound that sent a shudder through

Raistlin.

He took a step, stumbled, and nearly fell into the grave. Caramon caught him, steadied him.

"Raist! You're burning up!" Caramon exclaimed in concern. "Did you hear her, Caramon?" Raistlin asked