Free Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun by Margaret Weis Page B

to the dragon but that would be used to assist
    those who suffered unduly from having to pay what was come to
    be known as "the dragon tax."
    The people of Solace paid extra tax, the city fathers refunded
    them a portion out of Caramon's contribution, and the tribute
    went to the dragon as demanded.
    If they could have found a way to silence Caramon on the
    volatile subject, they would have done so, for he continued to be
    loud in his hatred of the dragons, continued to express his views
    that "if we just all got together we could poke out Beryl's eye with
    a dragonlance." Indeed, when the city of Haven was attacked by
    Beryl just a few weeks earlier-ostensibly for defaulting on its
    payments-the Solace town fathers actually came to Caramon and
    begged him on bended knee to cease his rabble-rousing remarks.
    Impressed by their obvious fear and distress, Caramon agreed
    to tone down his rhetoric, and the town fathers left happy. Cara-
    mon did actually comply, expressing his views in a moderate tone
    of voice as opposed to the booming outrage he'd used previously.
    He reiterated his unorthodox views that morning to his break-
    fast companion, the young Solamnic.
    " A terrible storm, sir," said the Knight, seating himself oppo-
    site Caramon.
    A group of his fellow Knights were breakfasting in another
    part of the Inn, but Gerard uth Mondar paid them scant attention.
    They, in their turn, paid him no attention at all.
    "It bodes dark days to come, to my mind," Caramon agreed,
    settling his bulk into the high-backed wooden booth, a booth
    whose seat had been rubbed shiny by the old man's backside.
    "But all in all I found it exhilarating."
    "Father!" Laura was scandalized. She slapped down a plate of
    beefsteak and eggs for her father, a bowl of porridge for the
    Knight. "How can you say such things? With so many people
    hurt. Whole houses blown, from what I hear."
    "I didn't mean that," Caramon protested, contrite. "I'm sorry
    for the people who were hurt, of course, but, you know, it came
    to me in the night that this storm must be shaking Beryl's lair
    about pretty good. Maybe even burned the evil ol.d bitch out.
    That's what I was thinking." He looked worriedly at the young
    Knight's bowl of porridge. "Are you certain that's enough to eat,
    Gerard? I can have Laura fry you up some potatoes-"
    "Thank you, sir, this is all I am accustomed to eat for break-
    fast," Gerard said as he said every day in response to the same
    question.
    Caramon sighed. Much as he had come to like this young
    man, Caramon could not understand anyone who did not enjoy
    food. A person who did not relish Otik's famous spiced potatoes
    was a person who did not relish life. Only one time in his own life
    had Caramon ever ceased to enjoy his dinner and that was fol-
    lowing the death several months earlier of his beloved wife Tika.
    Caramon had refused to eat a mouthful for days after that, to the
    terrible worry and consternation of the entire town, which went
    on a cooking frenzy to try to come up with something that would
    tempt him.
    He would eat nothing, do nothing, say nothing. He either
    roamed aimlessly about the town or sat staring dry-eyed out the
    stained glass windows of the Inn, the Inn where he had first met
    the red-haired and annoying little brat who had been his comrade
    in arms, his lover, his friend, his salvation. He shed no tears for
    her, he would not visit her grave beneath the vallenwoods. He
    would not sleep in their bed. He would not hear the messages of
    condolence that came from Laurana and Gilthas in Qualinesti,
    from Goldmoon in the Citadel of Light.
    Caramon lost weight, his flesh sagged, his skin took on a gray
    hue.
    "He will follow Tika soon," said the townsfolk.
    He might have, too, had not one day a child, one of ,the refugee
    children, happened across Caramon in his dismal roamings. The
    child placed his small body squarely in front of the old man and
    held out a hunk of bread.
    "Here, sir," said the child. "My mother