Chapter 9
After several more days, Kitiara reached Solace. It was late summer, and the branches of the majestic vallenwoods made an emerald canopy overhead. The familiar smells spurred Cinnamon into a trot. The horse didn't need any help finding the way back to her old stall in the shed beneath the Majere cottage. Kit fed and watered the mare, then, mindful of Ursa's warning, took Beck's sword and buried it under an unassuming pile of hay. Later, she would sneak the weapon up to her room.
With mixed feelings she climbed the spiral stairs to home.
It was almost meal time. Kit knew that her whole family would probably be home. Just as she was about to enter, the door swung open. Caramon threw himself on her, squealing with excitement.
'You're really back! Raist was right! He said you'd be standing there if I opened the door. I bet him a bag of rock candy that you wouldn't be, but I'm happy to pay up.'
Caramon grabbed Kit's hand and pulled her into the center of the room. Rosamun's door was almost entirely closed, and Gilon was absent. Though the late afternoon was warm, Raistlin was sitting in a chair pulled up close to the hearth. A book lay open in his lap. Curiosity, admiration, resentment, and a little petulance mingled in the look he gave Kit.
'I didn't expect to see you back so soon. Was your journey a worthwhile one?' Raist asked her gravely.
Kit grinned. Same old Raist. 'Let's say it took some unexpected turns. Judge for yourself how worthwhile.'
Caramon, sensing the imminent handing out of presents, began hopping up and down at Kit's side. 'Oh, she brought us something. It better be good; you've been gone all summer.'
With a flourish, Kit pulled two small packages out of her bag. Despite his desire to appear cool and collected, Raist hopped off his chair and ran up to Kit. She gave the first package to Caramon. He tore off the crude wrapping and exclaimed loudly over the sturdy short sword she had brought him.
'It must have been so expensive!' crowed Caramon, turning it around in his hand admiringly.
In truth, Kit had taken the sword off the dead Kagonesti, but there was no reason for Caramon to be told that. 'Watch you don't cut yourself,' she admonished.
Raist unwrapped his smaller package more slowly, but seemed equally pleased with his set of leather vials.
'Now, those were expensive,' Kit said, winking at Raist. The dead Kagonesti had contributed those, too.
As each boy was examining his souvenir, Gilon walked in the door carrying herbs and other foodstuffs, appearing harried. He looked at Kit in surprise, then followed that reaction quickly with a grin of genuine warmth. Having his arms full, he was able to avoid the awkwardness that typically passed between them over whether or not to embrace.
'Well, the adventurer returns! You must have grown two inches in the last couple months. Welcome back, Kit.'
Indeed, she had grown up over the time, physically and otherwise. Gilon could see that Kit carried herself with, not just adolescent swagger, but true assurance. And while someone who looked at her fleetingly might still mistake her for a boy, anyone whom she engaged more closely with her crooked smile and laughing eyes would not.
Gilon dumped the food he was carrying onto the table. Just then, Rosamun shuffled out of their bedroom, a glaze over her eyes. Her face didn't show recognition of Kit, nor anyone else in the room. Her hair was uncombed, and she'd obviously slept in her clothes.
Kit frowned. Gilon hurried over and led her mother back to the bedroom, speaking to Rosamun in soothing tones. The twins, occupied with their new possessions and probably inured to the ghostly appearances of their mother, didn't take much notice.
Gilon strode back into the room. 'I'm afraid it will be a while before we eat,' he said to Kit apologetically, 'and the meal won't be much. I don't have your knack in the kitchen.'
A cosmic conspiracy seems determined to keep me in the kitchen, Kit thought to herself. 'Sit down, Gilon,' she said with a sigh. 'I'll do the cooking. I haven't gotten out of practice, especially in the last few weeks.'
As she prepared a homecoming repast, Kit regaled Gilon and the twins with selected stories from her exploits. In these, Ursa became Trubaugh-she thought it wise to disguise as much about him as possible, including his name-a mysterious man she had met at the spring festival, who swore he knew where her father was. He agreed to lead her to him, far to the northwest, if she would cook for him and his gang of ruffians. When it turned out that he was luring her up there for more nefarious purposes-here she wrinkled her brows to imply that these were motives best left unspoken-she relieved this Trubaugh of some of his purse and left him and his hapless gang in the middle of the night.
'Good for you!' said Caramon approvingly.
'Yes, he deserved worse,' chimed in Raistlin.
'What about Gregor?' asked Gilon hesitantly. 'Did Trubaugh really know anything? Or was it all a lie?'
'As false as everything else about Trubaugh,' said Kitiara, shaking her head sadly.
After leaving Trubaugh, Kit continued, she had made her way through perilous mountain trails until she came upon a congenial settlement of miners and lumbermen called Dragonshead. Better than Stumptown, she thought to herself with the pride of creative deception.
The inn there was a jovial place, and for many weeks she had a job and friends. Piggott became a hilarious buffoon, and the motley crew that frequented his inn all played comical supporting roles. She left out all mention of their true names and the dark side of her experiences. Gilon and Caramon laughed heartily at her inspired version of events, but Kitiara caught Raistlin gazing at her thoughtfully.
Caramon, who was normally easy to gull, asked a zillion innocent questions about the time she had spent away, and Kit found herself squirming to think of plausible replies.
'C'mon, didn't you fight anybody when you were gone? I bet you did. Who? Was it this guy Trubaugh, or somebody at the inn? What weapons did you use? Did you win?'
Kit just smiled and tousled her brother's hair. 'Don't be so dramatic, Caramon. Do I look battle- scarred?'
Caramon seemed crestfallen at her disclaimer, while Gilon and Raist regarded her skeptically.
'What about you?' Kit asked Caramon, deftly changing the subject. 'Have you been practicing with your sword? And how has mage school been, Raist?'
'Well, I haven't had anyone to practice with, but I was pretty good to begin with,' bragged Caramon, 'Y'know that fancy lunge and parry you showed me? I can do that easily now. I'll show you after dinner, OK?'
'And mage school?' Kit persisted.
Raistlin looked down at his plate. Kit saw that Gilon was observing Caramon's twin solicitously.
'I already know more than some boys who have been studying with Morath for a year,' Raist responded in a low voice.
'Good!' exclaimed Kit enthusiastically. 'And what about friends? Are you making any?'
'I don't really have much to do with the other boys there,' he answered, fixing his gaze on his plate.
Kit's eyes met Gilon's. She mimed a shrug of unconcern. 'They're probably all spoiled little bookworms,' Kit declared. In her view, there were far more important things than being the most popular boy in the class.
Gilon left the table to try to coax Rosamun into eating something. Kitiara remained seated, joking with the twins, basking in their attention. When Gilon returned, unsuccessful at his mission, it was Kit's turn to leave the table, but only for a moment. She returned carrying a small pouch, which she emptied on the table in front of Gilon, creating a small pile of copper and silver coins.
'I don't know how long I'll be staying, but I want to pay for my room and board while I'm here. This should cover it.'
The twins crowed at the sight of the coins. It was more money than they had seen in their lives. Gilon was
