This soliloquy seemed to have exhausted Sun Feather, whose face sagged and shoulders drooped. He put down his cup of broth, then clasped his hands together and nodded to Cloudreaver.

"They have not tortured any information out of him," spat Cloudreaver, "nor will they get any, no matter how devious their cruelty. Morning Sky will expel his final breath without telling them so much as his name."

Caramon looked into Cloudreaver's pebble-black eyes, grim and fatalistic, like his brother's, the broken man's. Sun Feather reached over and touched his son on the wrist. The older female kyrie came over and whispered something in Sun Feather's ear. The elder kyrie nodded.

"And what about you, my son?" asked Three Far-Eyes gently, breaking the silence. "What is your name? What is your story?"

Caramon told them, leaving nothing out. The trip to Southern Ergoth, the magic storm, the capture of Tasslehoff, his and Sturm's trial at sea, their imprisonment. Although the kyrie were exceedingly interested in the role the minotaurs played in Caramon's curious saga, they could add little to the mystery of why the minotaur kingdom would be so preoccupied by a single kender, much less the herb, jalopwort.

"Except," pointed out Three Far-Eyes, "do not forget one thing. Jalopwort is common on Mithas and Karthay, but quite rare, if not altogether absent, from other parts of the world. And like other things on Mithas, the minotaurs define it as their own, sacred, with certain ritualistic uses."

Sun Feather nodded sagely.

Time passed. Now the young female kyrie-her face strikingly beautiful, her red hair flecked with gold-brought out cups and bowls, setting them before Caramon and the others.

Following the example of the kyrie, Caramon dipped his fingers into a basin of cool water, then washed and dried his hands. From the serving bowls, he chose an assortment of nuts, berries, and greens. The older female appeared behind his shoulder and ladled several small cubes of raw red meat onto his plate.

After some minutes, during which they all ate hungrily, Cloudreaver spoke. "A sentinel stays in the tunnel at all times," the young kyrie said, returning to the topic of his brother. "He watches over Morning Sky, hoping against hope for some change in his circumstances.

"We speak to him only a little, always furtively. It would not be wise to take chances. When Morning Sky is able, he speaks to us. Even if the minotaur guards overhear a few words, they do not understand our native language, so they think it is delirium. That is how we were able to tell Morning Sky about the two humans who had been captured and brought to the prison. After talking it over with him, we decided to risk liberating you."

"Why?" asked Caramon thoughtfully.

"For one thing, I saw how you behaved toward my brother," answered Cloudreaver.

"You saw me?"

"I was in the tunnel. That close to my brother, I could see through his eyes, through the walls of stone. My heart beats with the same rhythm as his. My head shares his thoughts.

I listened to your words and saw and believed you to be a good and compassionate human."

Caramon was silent. He was thinking about his own brother, Raistlin. Wasn't it that way between him and Raist? That they could see with each other's eyes sometimes? That their hearts also beat as one?

"We do not have much experience with humans," interjected Sun Feather diplomatically. "I myself have never before been face-to-face with one in my three hundred years of life on this earth."

"Three hundred years!" exclaimed Caramon. The young warrior knew that dwarves and elves were long-lived, but already Sun Feather had lived more than three times the span that Caramon would in his time.

"Yes," admitted Sun Feather, chuckling. "I am old and past my prime. When I am gone, it will be up to Cloudreaver-"

"Father!" cried Cloudreaver, bringing up his arm and making an angry gesture.

The female kyrie looked upset. Three Far-Eyes dropped his glance. Sun Feather looked chastened.

"Cloudreaver is right," the leader of the kyrie said in a low voice. "It is not right to speak of Morning Sky as if he is already dead. Morning Sky is the firstborn and blood heir to the leadership. But-" His voice broke.

Three Far-Eyes hastened to change the subject. "Most of the humans we know of," said Three Far-Eyes softly, "are brigands or slaves. But our legends tell us that humans can be intelligent and sensitive and loyal. Besides, we felt that it was worth the risk to bring shame down on the bull-men. They will be greatly dishonored by news of an escape from their prison at Atossa."

"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."