"You've been gone," Bronk said, sounding a little miffed. He glanced around nervously.
"Everybody wondered where you went. Nobody knew for sure. Not even your brothers, I don't think. Where'd you go anyway?"
"What does it matter?" she said, lowering her head. She tried some sniffling. "It's all over anyway."
"What's over?" he demanded to know.
"What does it matter?" Kit repeated mysteriously. Sniffle, sniffle. Bronk sidled over and clumsily put his arm around her shoulder.
Where were Caramon and Raist? How long was she going to have to put up with this dunce and keep him dangling around this tree stump!
"Well," Bronk said petulantly, "I'm glad you realized the error of your ways. I always thought that us ... that is, you and me ... I mean, even if I don't like your dumb brothers, I always thought that you and me could be friends. More than friends." This had been a long and almost articulate speech for Bronk. He seemed winded and confused, as if he had said more than he'd meant to. Again his eyes darted nervously around. Then Bronk gave Kit a tentative little squeeze.
"What do you mean, 'more than friends'?" she asked ingenuously, batting her lashes. Where were her darn brothers? But Bronk, preoccupied with his next move, didn't notice the tension in her shoulders.
His arm tightened around her shoulders. Kitiara smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn't notice she was gritting her teeth.
Please! She couldn't take much more of this.
Just then, the sound of boys' voices reached them, coming from the path.
"What's this?" Bronk asked with considerable irritation. The voices grew louder, until Kit and Bronk could make out some of the words.
"You'll eat those words," Caramon was saying.
"My brother would never—"
"See if you believe your own eyes." That was Raist.
Bronk had dropped his hand from Kit's shoulder and was looking at her with revived suspicion. When he finally realized that it was Dune's voice he was hearing, along with the twins, he grew agitated.
"Say, what is this?" he said, shoving Kitiara's shoulder. Dune came around the bend. He was wedged between Caramon and Raistlin, almost being propelled forward by the twins. His eyes grew big when he spied his brother standing next to Kit.
Dune was a thick-witted little boy who worshiped his bully brother. Caramon and Raistlin had told him that Bronk was secretly romancing Kit. Dune couldn't believe that his brother was wooing the very girl about whom Bronk had said so many terrible things. On a bet, the twins had brought the boy to Crystalmir Lake to sneak up on the two supposed lovebirds and prove the romance.
"Bronk!" Dune cried in dismay.
"It's a dumb . . . rotten . . ." Bronk sputtered a few more words, but they were unintelligible.
Kit had intended to maneuver everyone closer to the water, but decided she had better act right away, while Bronk was momentarily unnerved. She edged around the stump and pulled on the hidden rope.
Nothing.
She pulled again, harder. This time she could feel something give on the other end. Kitiara signaled Raist, who was hanging back. He stood ready in his best spellcasting stance.
After a few murmured phrases from Raist, the surface of the lake near the shore where they stood began to bubble and seethe. The odd noise captured Bronk's and Dune's attention. Immediately, the two brothers lost interest in their private drama. They froze, their eyes riveted to the lake.
"What's that?" Bronk whispered fearfully to Kit.
Good. They've forgotten all about Raistlin.
Dark plumes of smoke and fingers of flame erupted from the sandy banks. The surface of the water roiled, and a huge shape began to emerge.
With the smoke and the dim light, it was difficult to see exactly what the shape was. A thing, a creature, manlike but much larger, with wet tendrils of slimy plants clinging to its sides. Suddenly its empty eye sockets blazed with orange fire, and its upper limbs began to sway, making it appear as if the horrible creature were moving toward shore.
"It's the crone!" Caramon whispered near Dune's ear.
"The crone!" shouted Dune in fright. "It's the crone!" Screaming in terror, Bronk and Dune fell over each other scrambling up the path. Their yells continued for several minutes before fading into the distance. Kit, Raist, and Caramon collapsed on the sand, laughing. They were distracted by a loud hissing sound coming from the water. When they looked up, they saw the garish shape slowly collapsing in on itself.
"I wondered how long those sheep bladders would hold air," Raist said, suddenly thoughtful. "I was worried when we had to force that contraption into a cage and sink it underwater, whether it would deflate and not be able to float when Kit released the lid."
"You were worried!" exclaimed Kit, between fits of laughter. "Bronk was about to try and kiss me!"
"Did you see them take off?" Caramon asked, his face flushed and eyes bright. "It'll be a long time before either of them look in our direction."
"It'll be a long time before they can look each other in the eyes," Raist added solemnly.
"Of course," Caramon felt compelled to add, "I could have beaten them fair and square, if you had let me settle it my way." He struck an injured pose. "But that was fun," he admitted after a moment. "Good job, Raist."
"You built the 'monster'," Raist said.
"Let's leave this junk here," Kit said, standing and surveying the collapsed creation.
"Bronk and Dune are bound to slink back and investigate in the safety of daylight. Then they'll see what it was that scared them—birch bark, an empty ale barrel, sheep bladders, and old rags. That's the witch of Crone Lake."
They all laughed again.
"Tomorrow we'll spread the story, right?" exulted Caramon. "That'll teach
