Dragonlance: The Second Generation - By Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman Page 0,2

not in Caramon's presence. The drunk was carried out of the inn feet first, after his friends had removed his head from a fork in a tree branch grown into the inn. After that, whenever a conclave occurred, the regulars took their business to other taverns, and Caramon served the mages. When the conclave ended, the regulars returned, and life went on as normal.

"But tonight," said Caramon, pausing in his work to look admiringly at his wife, "we get to go to bed early."

They had been married some twenty-two years, and Caramon was still firmly convinced that he had married the most beautiful woman in Krynn. They had five children, three boys: Tanin, twenty years old, at the time of this story; Sturm, who was nineteen; sixteen-year-old Palin; and two small girls, Laura and Dezra, ages five and four. The two older boys longed to be knights and were always off in search of adventure, which is where they were this night. The youngest boy, Palin, was studying magic. ("It's a passing fancy," Caramon said. "The boy'll soon outgrow it.") As for the little girls… well, theirs is another story.

"It'll be nice," Caramon repeated, "to get to bed early for a change." Sweeping the floor vigorously, Tika pursed her mouth, so that she wouldn't give herself away by laughing, and replied, with a sigh, "Yes, the gods be praised. I'm so tired, I'll probably fall asleep before my head hits the pillow."

Caramon looked anxious. He dropped the cloth he was using to dry the freshly washed mugs and sidled around the bar. "You're not that tired, are you, my dear? Palin's at school, and the two older boys are away visiting Goldmoon and Riverwind, and the girls are in bed, and it's just the two of us, and I thought we might… well… have a little time to… uh… talk."

Tika turned away so that he wouldn't see her grin. "Yes, yes, I am tired," she said, heaving another weary sigh. "I had all those beds to make up, plus the new cook to supervise, and the accounts to settle…"

Caramon's shoulders slumped. "Well, that's all right," he mumbled. "Why don't you just go on to bed, and I'll finish—"

Tika threw down her broom. Laughing, she flung her arms around her husband—as far as they would go. Caramon's girth had increased markedly over the years.

"You big doorknob," she said fondly. "I was only teasing. Of course, we'll go to bed and 'talk,' but you just remember that 'talking' was what got us the boys and the girls in the first place! Come on." She tugged playfully at his apron. "Douse the lights and bolt the door. We'll leave the rest of the work until morning."

Caramon, grinning, slammed shut the door. He was just about to slide the heavy wooden bar across it when there came a faint knock from outside.

"Oh, blast!" Tika frowned. "Who could that be at this time of night?" Hastily, she blew out the candle in her hand. "Pretend we didn't hear it. Maybe they'll go away."

"I don't know," the soft-hearted Caramon began. "It's going to frost tonight—"

"Oh, Caramon!" Tika said, exasperated. "There are other inns—" The knocking was repeated, louder this time, and a voice called, "Innkeep? I'm sorry it's late, but I am alone and in desperate need."

"It's a woman," said Caramon, and Tika knew she'd lost.

Her husband might—just might—be persuaded to allow a man to go in search of another inn on a cold night, but a woman, especially one traveling alone—never.

It didn't hurt to argue a bit anyway. "And what's a lone female doing wandering about at this time of night? Up to no good, I'll wager."

"Oh, now, Tika," began Caramon, in the wheedling tone she knew so well, "you can't say that. Maybe she's going to visit a sick relative and darkness caught her on the road or—" Tika lit the candle. "Go ahead. Open up."

"I'm coming," the big man roared. Heading for the door, he paused, glanced back at his wife.

"You should toss a log onto the kitchen fire. She might be hungry."

"Then she can eat cold meat and cheese," Tika snapped, slamming the candle down on the table.

Tika had red hair and, though its color had grayed and softened with age, her temper had not. Caramon dropped the subject of hot food.

"She's probably real tired," he said, hoping to pacify his wife. "Likely she'll go straight to her room."

"Humpf!" Tika snorted. "Are you going to open the door or let her freeze