"But they'll want to know. They'll ask questions. What do I say?" Caramon was clearly unhappy. "I don't like keeping secrets, Raist."

"Then you do not belong with me. Go back!" Raistlin said coldly and waved his hand. "Go back to your friends. I have no need of you."

"Yes, you do, Raist," Caramon said. "You know you do."

Raistlin paused. His steady gaze caught his brother's and held it. This was the decisive moment, the moment on which their future depended.

"Then you must make a choice, my brother. You must either pledge yourself to me or return to your friends." Raistlin held up his hand, halting his brother's quick answer. "Think about it, Caramon. If you remain with me, you must trust me completely, obey me implicitly, ask no questions, keep my secrets far better than you keep your own. Well, which will it be?"

Caramon didn't hesitate. "I'm with you, Raist," he said simply. "You're my twin brother. We belong together. It was meant to be this way."

"Perhaps," Raistlin said with a bitter smile. If that were true, he wondered very much who meant it and why. He'd like to have a talk with them someday.

"Come along then, my brother. Follow me."

*****

According to Master Theobald, the mageware shop was located at the very end of Herbalists Street, on the left-hand side as you faced the north. Standing at some distance from the rest of the shops and dwellings, it was tucked back by itself amid a grove of oak trees.

Theobald had described it. "The shop is located on the lower floor of the house, living quarters above. It is difficult to see from the road. Oak trees surround it, as does a large walled-in garden. You will see the sign outside, however-a wooden board painted with an eye in colors of red, black, and white.

"I've never had any business there myself. I acquire everything I need from the Tower at Wayreth, you know," Master Theobald had added, with a sniff. "However, I'm sure Lemuel has some small items that mages of low rank might find valuable."

If Raistlin had learned nothing else from Theobald, he had learned to hold his tongue. He swallowed the caustic retort he would have once made, thanked the master politely, and was rewarded with the following bit of information, which might prove of inestimable value.

"I've heard that Lemuel has an interest in weeds the same as you," Theobald said. "You two should get along well."

Consequently Raistlin had brought with him a couple of rare species of plants he'd discovered, dug up, and carried home, and now had seedlings to share. He hoped in this way to curry Lemuel's favor, and if the books Raistlin wanted proved beyond his means, perhaps he might persuade their owner to lower the price.

The twins walked the length of Herbalists Street; Caramon taking his new duties and responsibilities with such extreme seriousness that he nearly tripped on his brother's heels in order to guard him, glared balefully at anyone who glanced twice at them, and rattled his sword constantly.

Raistlin sighed to himself over this, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Remonstrating with his brother, urging Caramon to relax and not be so conspicuous, would probably only confuse him. Eventually Caramon would fit comfortably into his role as bodyguard, but it would take time. Raistlin would just have to be patient.

Fortunately there were not that many people on the street to see them, since most of the herbalists were in the process of setting up stalls on the fairgrounds. On reaching the end of the street, they found it abandoned, no people in sight. Raistlin located the mageware shop easily enough. It was the only building on the left side of the road. Oak trees hid it from view, and there was the garden with its high stone wall. The sign of a mageware shop, the sign of the eye, was missing, however. The door was shut up tight, the windows were closed. The house might have been abandoned, but on peering over the wall, Raistlin saw that the garden was well tended.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Caramon asked.

"Yes, my brother. Perhaps the sign blew down in a storm."

"If you say so," Caramon muttered. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Let me go to the door, then."

"Absolutely not!" Raistlin said, alarmed. "The sight of you, scowling and waving that sword around, would scare any wizard witless. He might turn you into a frog or something worse. Wait here in the road until I call for you. Don't worry. There's nothing wrong," Raistlin said with more assurance than he truly felt.

Caramon started to argue. Recalling his pledge, he kept silent. The threat about the frog might also have had something to do with his quick compliance.

"Sure, Raist. But you be careful. I don't trust these magic-users."

Raistlin walked to the door. His body tingled with both anticipation and dread, excitement at the idea of obtaining what he needed, dread to think that he might have come all this way only to find the mage gone. Raistlin was in such a state of nervous excitement by the time he reached the door that at first his strength failed him; he could not lift his trembling hand to knock, and when he did, his knock was so faint that he was forced to repeat it.

No one answered the door. No face came to peer curiously out the window.

Raistlin very nearly gave way to despair. His hopes and dreams of future success had been built around this one shop; he had never imagined that it might be closed. He had looked forward to gaining the books he needed for so long, he had come so far and he was so close, that he did not think he could bear the disappointment. He knocked again, this time much louder, and he raised his voice.

"Master Lemuel? Are you home, sir? I have come from Master Theobald of Solace. I am his pupil, and-"

A small window inside the door slid open. An eye in the window peered out at Raistlin, an eye filled with fear.

"1 don't care whose pupil you are!" came a thin voice through the small opening. "What do you think you're doing, shouting that you're a mage at the top of your lungs? Go away!"

The window slid shut.

Raistlin knocked again, more peremptorily, said loudly, "He recommended your shop. I have come to purchase-"

The little window slid open. The eye appeared. "Shop's closed." The window slid shut.

Raistlin brought in his reserves for the attack. "I have an unusual variety of plant with me. I thought that perhaps you might not be familiar with it. Black bryony-"

The window slid open. The eye was more interested. "Black bryony, you say? You have some?"

"Yes, sir." Raistlin reached into his pouch and carefully drew out a tiny bundle of leaves, stems, and fruits with the roots attached. "Perhaps you'd be interested."

The window slid shut again, but this time Raistlin heard a bolt being thrown. The door opened.

The man inside the door was clad in faded red robes, covered with dirt at the knees where he was accustomed to kneeling in his garden. He must have been standing on tiptoe to put his eye to the small window in the door, because he was almost as short as a dwarf, compact and round, with a face that must once have been as ruddy and cheerful as the summer sun. Now he was like a sun that is eclipsed. His eyes were puckered with worry and his brow creased. He peered nervously out into the street, and at the sight of Caramon, his eyes widened in fear and he very nearly shut the door again.

Raistlin had his foot in it, however, and was quick to seize the handle with his hand. "May I present my brother, sir? Caramon, come here!"

Caramon obligingly came over, ducking his head and grinning self-consciously.

"Are you sure he's who he says he is?" the mage asked, regarding Caramon with intense suspicion.

"Yes, I'm certain he's my brother," Raistlin replied, wondering uneasily if he was having to deal with a lunatic. "If you look at us closely, you will note the resemblance. We are twins."