"Won't they punish Morning Sky?" worried Caramon.
'They will never execute my brother," said Cloudreaver grimly. "They will keep him alive as long as they can."
After the meal was over, the female kyrie brought out pipes, chewing tobacco, and a bowl with thick, cut-up pieces of some kind of gummy root. Cloudreaver chose a long-stemmed pipe, filled it with some substance from a pouch, and puffed on it contemplatively. Three Far-Eyes chewed on tobacco. Sun Feather reached for the root, and Caramon politely followed suit.
Outside, darkness had fallen and quiet reigned. Inside the cave, the elder female moved about the room, reaching for a half-dozen small spheres set into the wall, which by her touch were magically lit and cast a pale blue light.
Caramon chewed on the root meditatively. It had a mild, pleasant taste. The day had been a long and arduous one. His body ached, and his mind as well.
As he chewed, a tingling sensation flowed through his body. Caramon felt his muscles relax. His mind floated free. No longer did he feel weary and sad.
His thoughts flitted to Raistlin. He wondered where his twin brother was, and whether Raist had any inkling of where Caramon was.
He worried about his brother. Kitiara had pounded it into his head that it was his job to worry about his twin brother, although Caramon knew that at this moment, Raistlin was probably worrying just as much about him. Caramon sincerely hoped he was a good representative of the human race for those kyrie who, like Sun Feather, had never met a human before. Surely Raistlin would have better understood the situation and been a more impressive representative of humankind.
Caramon wondered about Tasslehoff. Poor Tas. Likely the kender was dead. What could the minotaurs have wanted with him? Something obscure and unpleasant, Caramon felt sure. Tas wasn't in the prison, nor was he in Atossa, or surely the kyrie would have taken note of him, Caramon thought. Kender do not tend to blend in to the background.
The young warrior looked around at the kyrie in the cave, nodding at him. He wondered if they could read his thoughts. At that moment, he felt almost as if he could read theirs. He sensed their profound despondency over Morning Sky, and at the same time, their stubborn resiliency as a people. They were a remarkable race. He felt proud to be in the company of the ancient kyrie.
Caramon's mind wandered to Sturm. Sturm wouldn't be so comfortable here, high up in the mountains, eating a fine repast and chewing this agreeable after-supper root—not if his friend Caramon was the one who had been left behind in prison.
The minotaurs might not take out their frustration on Morning Sky, Caramon realized with a jolt. But they might—probably would—torture Sturm.
"I must go back," declared the human from Solace suddenly, startling the kyrie by breaking the harmonious silence that had prevailed in the cave. Caramon set his jaw. "I must go back and rescue my friend Sturm."
The faces around him were disapproving. "That would not be wise," said Sun Feather.
"Foolish," said Cloudreaver, putting down his pipe.
"I—I—" Caramon faltered. He didn't possess the eloquence of his twin. "I must go back," Caramon repeated. "Sturm Brightblade would surely try to rescue me. No risk would deter him, not a hundred, a thousand, minotaurs. He'd consider it his honor-bound duty. I can only try to do what he would, under opposite circumstances."
"But how can you get inside the prison?" asked Three Far-Eyes sympathetically. "And, what is more important, how would you get out?"
Caramon had no ready reply. He addressed Cloudreaver. "You say you keep a sentinel in the tunnel at all times?"
"Yes," responded Cloudreaver. "Day and night."
"Then I will hear his reports, watch, and wait. I will seek my opportunity. Even if nothing changes, I must still try something."
Everyone kept silent. Caramon looked at Sun Feather, waiting for the leader of the kyrie to speak. The elder's face was unreadable.
"I will go with the human!" said Cloudreaver unexpectedly.
Sun Feather appeared shocked. "You cannot, my son! Already you have taken too many risks. You have not only your own future but also the future of the entire race to consider."
Cloudreaver's eyes were hard, stubborn. "I will not take any risk that you wouldn't take yourself—if you were not old bones." Although Cloudreaver's words struck his father with the force of blows, Sun Feather's eyes shone with unmistakable pride. "I admire this Caramon," said Cloudreaver. "I should like to help his friend as I helped him."
Caramon reached over and clasped Cloudreaver's hand. This time the kyrie put his other hand on top of Caramon's in a gesture of solidarity.
Three Far-Eyes spoke up. "If Cloudreaver goes, others with the appetite for fighting the minotaurs should have the opportunity to go with him. The human should be brought to the Warrior Society."
Cloudreaver looked grateful for the words. Although Caramon didn't know what the Warrior Society was, the fervor in the old bird-man's voice surprised him.
For long minutes, Sun Feather stared at Cloudreaver as father to son. "You must do what you feel you must do," Sun Feather said heavily at last. The leader of the kyrie sighed. "But you must do nothing rash—and you will not be doing anything tonight. Agreed? So, it is time to sleep, and in our sleep to dream the things we hope to do."
Taking the signal from Sun Feather, Three Far-Eyes and the young female kyrie left the cave. Cloudreaver hesitated and gave Caramon a friendly nod, then he, too, left. Sun Feather placed a winged arm on Caramon's shoulder as the Majere twin rose to leave.
"You will sleep here," said Sun Feather. He gestured toward the corner, where the older female kyrie had lingered and was setting up a thick pile of furs.
"But this is your dwelling," protested Caramon, "and I have brought you nothing but heartache."
Sun Feather shook
