"No way!" Caramon roared.
The crowd signaled its approval of the defiant standoff. Kit bent Caramon's leg back even farther; she could almost hear the bones popping. In reply, he tightened his hold on her head. While his face was being pressed into the ground, hers was being bent back to face the sky.
"Give!
"You give!"
"I won!"
"I won first!"
"Let Raist be the judge!"
Pause. "OK."
"Raist? Raist?"
Kitiara managed to swivel her head enough to see that Raistlin had vanished. Caramon's twin had observed this entertaining spectacle a few too many times in his short life, and he was quickly bored by the variations on it. Raist had given up and wandered away. Kitiara jumped up. "Raistlin!"
Caramon jumped up too, rubbing his face. His tunic was ripped in places. Kitiara's ear was showing a drool of blood. "Aw c'mon," muttered Caramon, "where can he have got to now?"
Kitiara wheeled on him vehemently. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're his brother! He's your responsibility as much as mine!"
Caramon looked not only somewhat beat up but contrite. "Aw, why do I have to look after him all the time? You're his big sister, aren't you? Anyway, I—" Kitiara practically spat out the words. "You're his twin brother, his twin brother. You're two halves of the same whole. And he's not as strong as you. You know that. I'm not going to babysit the two of you for the rest of my life. So go find him, and hurry up about it!"
She aimed a kick at Caramon but missed by a narrow margin. He had taken her words to heart and was already dashing away to locate his missing twin.
In exasperation Kitiara sank to the ground. Realizing the fun was over, most of the onlookers had moved off into the larger crowd. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to her anymore. Kit felt her ear and reached over to adjust one of her boots that had somehow almost wriggled off.
"You should have let him best you!"
She looked up to see a girl her age, with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair that fell in ringlets over her shoulders. Aureleen Damark, the coquettish daughter of a local furniture-maker, was one of Kit's few friends. They were practically opposites, but Kitiara had to admit that Aureleen made her laugh.
"Who, Caramon?" Kit scoffed, as she flashed a welcoming grin at her friend.
"No, Speckleface!" answered Aureleen earnestly. "Why do you think he's always picking on you, anyway?"
"Probably just mean and dumb," said Kit flatly.
Aureleen sat down beside Kit and spread her gangly legs out. "Not at all," scolded Aureleen. "Although I won't argue with you that he's dumb." She giggled. "He likes you!"
Kitiara looked sternly into the eyes of her friend, finding it hard to believe Aureleen wasn't kidding. "Speckleface?"
"He's not so ugly really," said Aureleen decidedly, arranging her pink and white dress so that it spread out around her like a coral shell in the dirt and dust. With her rosy cheeks and long-lashed eyes, Aureleen was the picture of femininity. "Guys like a girl who acts tough, Father says. Although," she paused and thought for a moment. "Mother says they prefer one with a soft heart. Hard outside, soft inside. What does your father say?" Kitiara sighed. She could never keep up with the line of Aureleen's prattle. "Did say . . . did say. I haven't seen my father in almost six years, Aureleen. You know that."
"Yes, I do," said Aureleen reprovingly. "I mean Gilon— your stepfather, if you want to be technical. What does he say?"
"He doesn't say much, thank the spirits," said Kitiara. She glared fiercely at her friend.
"Life isn't just about getting a man anyway," she declared.
"Oh, I disagree," said Aureleen, fluffing out her hair prettily. "My point is that Bronk likes you because you act strong and tough. But it would be better to let him win if it comes to wrestling or fighting. Men have their pride, and boys are worse." With that, she reached into a fold of her skirt and brought out a thick square of fruit bread, broke it in half, and offered Kitiara a share.
Kit had to smile. Soon the two girls were whispering and laughing as they ate the treat. The fairgoers simply walked around them; the Red Moon Fair was casual if nothing else.
"Miss Kitiara . . ."
This time Kit looked up to see Minna, her mother's former midwife, staring down at her with a most calculating expression. Kit hadn't seen the old biddy in several months. Aureleen jumped to her feet politely, and Kitiara reluctantly followed suit.
"How's your dear mother been?" Minna asked.
"Fine, thank you," Kit said in a low voice.
"I haven't seen her about much lately," continued Minna, her eyes narrowing to slits. No, and you won't you old witch, Kitiara thought to say, but her tongue was tied and her eyes cast to the ground.
"Why, she's right here, enjoying herself at the fair," piped up Aureleen in an ingenuous tone.
"What? Here?" Minna looked thrown by this report.
"Yes 'm," said Aureleen pertly. "She accompanied us here, and then . . . you know how it is, she had to go off with those two rascal boys somewhere. They were pulling her arms and legs—it was very funny to see—and she laughing and enjoying herself so very much."
"Where? Where did they go?" Minna gazed over the heads of the crowd, avid for a new piece of gossip.
"Oh, you might look for them over by the games, if you just want to say hello, ma'am," said Aureleen innocently.
"I might just do that," Minna replied, suspicious.
She peered intently at Kit, but Kitiara's mask of politeness betrayed nothing.
"If you do, please tell her we're dawdling behind," said Aureleen.
"Yes, yes.
