The Second Generation

by Margaret Weis

  “I’m surprised Caramon permitted it.”

  “He didn’t.” Tanis handed her the scroll. “As you will read, Dalamar took the matter out of Caramon’s hands.”

  “Why wouldn’t he let Palin take the Test?” Gil asked.

  “Because the Test can be fatal, for one thing,” Tanis said dryly.

  “But Caramon plans to let his other sons test for the knighthood,” Gil argued. “That can be pretty fatal, too.”

  “The knighthood’s different, Son. Caramon understands battle with sword and shield. He doesn’t understand battle with rose petals and cobwebs.”

  “And then, of course, there was Raistlin,” Laurana added, as if that concluded the matter.

  “What has his uncle got to do with it?” Gil demanded, though he knew perfectly well what his mother meant. He was in a mood to argue these days.

  “It’s natural for Caramon to fear Palin would walk the same dark path as Raistlin took. Though now that seems hardly likely.”

  And what path do you fear I’ll walk, Mother, Father? Gil wanted to shout at them. Any path? Dark or light? Any path that leads me away from this place? Someday, Mother … Someday, Father …

  “May I read it?” Gil asked petulantly.

  Wordlessly, his mother handed the scroll over. Gil read it slowly. He could read human script as easily as elven, but he had some trouble deciphering Caramon’s gigantic, round-handed, and excited scrawl.

  “Caramon says here he made a mistake. He says he should have respected Palin’s decision to study magic instead of trying to force him to be something he isn’t. Caramon says he’s proud of Palin for passing the Test.”

  “Caramon says that now,” Tanis returned. “He would have said something far different if his boy had died in the tower.”

  “At least he gave him a chance, which is more than you will me,” Gil retorted. “You keep me locked up like some sort of prize bird—”

  Tanis’s face darkened.

  Laurana intervened hastily. “Now, Gil, please don’t start. It’s nearly dinnertime. If you and your father will get washed up, I’ll tell Cook that we’re—”

  “No, Mother, don’t change the subject! It won’t work this time!” Gil held the scroll tightly, drawing reassurance from it. “Palin’s not much older than I am. And now he’s off traveling with his brothers. He’s seeing things, doing things! I’ve never been farther from home than the fencerow!”

  “It’s not the same, Gil, and you know it,” Tanis said quietly. “Palin’s human—”

  “I’m part human,” Gil returned with bitter accusation.

  Laurana paled, lowered her eyes. Tanis was silent a moment, his lips, beneath the beard, compressed. When he spoke, it was in the infuriatingly calm tone that drove Gil to distraction.

  “Yes, you and Palin are near the same age, but human children mature faster than elven children—”

  “I’m not a child!”

  The knot inside Gil twisted until he feared it would turn him inside out.

  “And you know, mapete, that with your headaches, travel would be—” Laurana began.

  The knot snapped.

  “Stop calling me that!” Gil shouted at her.

  Laurana’s eyes widened in hurt and surprise. Gil was remorseful. He hadn’t meant to wound her, but he also felt a certain amount of satisfaction.

  “You’ve called me that name since I was a baby,” he continued in a low voice.

  “Yes, she has.” Tanis’s face, beneath the beard, was dark with anger. “Because she loves you. Apologize to your mother!”

  “No, Tanis,” Laurana intervened. “I owe Gil the apology. He is right.” She smiled faintly. “It is a silly name for a young man who is taller than I am. I am sorry, my son. I won’t do it again.”

  Gil hadn’t expected this victory. He didn’t quite know how to handle it. He decided to ride on, press home the advantage against a weakened opponent. “And I haven’t had a headache for months now. Perhaps I’m rid of them.”

  “But you don’t know that, Son.” Tanis was trying hard to control himself. “What would happen if you fell ill while you were on the road, far from home?”

  “Then I’d deal with it,” Gil retorted. “I’ve heard you tell about times when Raistlin Majere was so sick his brother had to carry him. But that never stopped Raistlin. He was a great hero!”

  Tanis started to say something. Laurana gave him a warning glance, and he kept quiet.

  “Where is it you want to go, Son?” she asked.

  Gil hesitated. The moment had arrived. He hadn’t expected the subject to come up quite this way, but it had and he knew he should take advantage of it.

  “My homeland. Qualinesti.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Why, Father? Give me one good reason!”

  “I could give you a dozen, but I doubt you’d understand them. For starters, Qualinesti isn’t your home—”

  “Tanis, please!” Laurana turned to Gil. “What put this idea into your head, mapet—Son?”

  “I received an invitation, a very handsome invitation, very proper and fitting to my station as an elven prince.” Gil emphasized the words.

  His mother and father exchanged alarmed glances.

  Gil ignored them and continued on. “The invitation is from one of the senators of the Thalas-Enthia. The people are having some type of celebration to welcome Uncle Porthios back from Silvanesti, and this senator thinks I should be in attendance. He says my absence from formal occasions like this has been noticed. People are starting to say that I am ashamed of my elven heritage.”

  “How dare they do this?” Tanis spoke with barely concealed fury. “How dare they interfere? Who is this senator? The meddling ass. I’ll—”

  “Tanthalas, listen to me.” Laurana called him by his full elven name only when the matter was serious. “There’s more to it than that, I fear.”

  She drew near him; they spoke together in an undertone.

  Whispering. Always the whispers. Gil tried to look as if he hadn’t the slightest interest in what they were saying, though he listened closely. He caught the words “political” and “move cautiously” but nothing more.

  “This does concern me, you know, Father,” Gil stated abruptly. “You weren’t invited.”

  “Don’t speak to me in that tone, young man!”

  “Gil, dear, this is a very serious matter,” Laurana said, using a soothing note to her son, laying a soothing hand on her husband’s arm. “When did you receive this invitation?”

  “A day or two ago, when you were both in Palanthas. If you’d been home, you would have known about it.”

  Again, the two looked at each other.

  “I wish you’d told us earlier. What reply did you send?”

  His mother was clearly nervous, her hands twisted together. His father was furious, but Tanis kept silent. He was being forced to keep silent.

  Gil knew himself suddenly, for the first time in his life, in control. It was a good feeling that eased the tight knot in his stomach.

  “I haven’t sent my answer,” he said coolly. “I know this is political. I know this is serious. I waited to talk the matter over with you both.”

  He had the satisfaction of seeing his parents look ashamed. Again, they had underestimated him.

  “You did right, Son. I’m sorry we misjudged you.” Tanis sighed and scratched his bearded chin in frustration. “More than that, I’m sorry you had to be dragged into this. But I guess I should have expected it.”

  “We both should have,” Laurana added. “We should have prepared you, Gil.”

  Her voice dropped. She was talking to Tanis again. “It’s just that I never thought … He’s part human, after all. I didn’t suppose they would …”

  “Of course, they would. It’s obvious to me what they’re after …”

  “What?” Gil demanded loudly. “What are they after?”

  Tanis didn’t seem to hear him, for he continued to talk to Lauran
a. “I had hoped he would be spared this, that he wouldn’t have to go through what you and I did. And if I have anything to say about it, he won’t.”

  He turned to Gil. “Bring us the invitation, Son. Your mother will frame the proper refusal.”

  “And that’s it,” Gil said, glaring from one to the other. “You won’t let me go.”

  “Son, you don’t understand—” Tanis began, his temper starting to flare.

  “You’re damn right I don’t understand! I—” Gil paused.

  Of course. It was all so simple, really. But he had to be careful. He mustn’t give himself away.

  He’d stopped talking in midsentence—a stupid move. They might suspect. How to cover it?

  Diplomacy, learned from his mother.

  “I’m sorry for yelling, Father,” Gil said contritely. “I know you have only my best interests at heart. It was foolish of me to want to go—to visit my mother’s homeland.”

  “Someday, Son,” Tanis said, scratching his beard. “When you’re older …”

  “Certainly, Father. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have my studies to attend to.” Turning, Gil walked out of the room with dignity. He shut the door behind him.

  Pausing outside the door, he listened.

  “We’ve known this was coming,” his mother was saying. “It’s only right he should want to go.”

  “Yes, and how will he feel when he sees the hate-filled glances, the curled lips, the subtle insults …”

  “Maybe that won’t happen, Tanis. The elves have changed.”

  “Have they, dearest?” Tanis asked her sadly. “Have they really?”

  Laurana made no response, at least not one that Gil could hear.

  He wavered in his decision. They were only trying to protect him, after all.

  Protect him! Yes, just as Caramon had tried to protect Palin. He had taken the Test and passed. He’d proven his worth—both to his father and to himself.

  Resolve hardened, Gil ran down the hall, took the stairs to his room two at a time. Once inside, he closed and locked the door. He had kept the invitation hidden in a golden filigree box. Reading the invitation again, Gil scanned the lines until he found what he was searching for.

  I will be staying at the Back Swan, an inn that is about a day’s ride from your parents’ house. If you would care to meet me there, we could journey to Qualinesti together. Let me assure you, Prince Gilthas, I would be honored by your company and most pleased to introduce you into the very highest levels of elven society.

  Your servant, Rashas of the

  House of Aronthulas.

  The man’s name meant nothing to Gil, wasn’t important anyway. He dropped the invitation and gazed out his window, down the road that led south.

  To the Black Swan.

  2 Customarily, among elves, a son takes the name of his father’s house. But since Tanis Half-Elven is of illegitimate birth and questionable bloodline, his son Gilthas was given the name of his mother’s father’s house, which is Solostaran

  Chapter Four

  Wrapped in his cloak, Tanis Half-Elven was lying on the hard, cold ground. He was sleeping deeply, peacefully. But Caramon’s hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. Tanis, we need you! Tanis, wake up!

  Go away, Tanis told him, rolling over, hunching himself into a ball. I don’t want to wake up. I’m tired of it all, so very tired. Why can’t you leave me alone? Let me sleep.…

  “Tanis!”

  He woke with a start. He’d slept longer than usual, longer than he’d intended. But his sleep had not been restful, had left him feeling heavy-limbed, fuzzy-brained. He blinked. Looking up, he half expected to see Caramon.

  He saw Laurana.

  “Gil’s gone,” she said.

  Tanis struggled to shake off the dream, the heaviness. “Gone?” he repeated stupidly. “Where?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I think—” Her voice broke. Wordlessly, she held out to Tanis a sheet of gold leaf paper.

  Rubbing his eyes, Tanis leveraged himself to a sitting position. Laurana slid onto the bed beside him and put her arm around his shoulder. He read the invitation.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “In … in his room. I didn’t mean to snoop. It was just … He didn’t come down to breakfast. I thought he might be ill. I went to check.” Her head drooped, and tears slid down her cheeks. “His bed wasn’t slept in. His clothes are gone. And this … this … was on the floor … by the window …”

  She broke down. After a moment’s silent struggle, she regained control of herself. “I went to the stable. His horse is gone, too. The groom didn’t hear or see anything—”

  “Old Hastings is deaf as a post. He wouldn’t have heard the Cataclysm. Caramon tried to warn me this would happen. I didn’t listen.” Tanis sighed. Subconsciously, he’d listened. That was what the dream meant.

  Let me sleep …

  “Everything’s going to be fine, dearest,” Tanis said cheerfully. Kissing his wife, he held her close. “Gil left this behind, knowing we’d find it. He wants us to come after him. He wants to be stopped. This is his rooster crow of independence, that’s all. I’ll find him at the Black Swan—exhausted, but too proud to admit it, pretending he’s going to ride on, secretly hoping I’ll argue him out of it.”

  “You won’t scold him …” Laurana asked anxiously.

  “No, of course, not. We’ll have a man-to-man talk. It’s long coming. Maybe he and I will even spend the night away from home, ride back together in the morning.”

  Tanis warmed to the idea. Now that he thought of it, he had never spent the day alone with his son. They would talk, really talk. Tanis would let Gil know that his father understood.

  “This might actually prove to be good for the boy, my dear.” Tanis was up, out of bed, and dressing for travel.

  “Perhaps I should go, too.…”

  “No, Laurana,” Tanis said firmly. “This is between Gil and me.” He paused in his preparations. “You don’t really understand why he’s done this, do you?”

  “No elven youth would do such a thing,” Laurana said softly, the tears shining in her eyes.

  Tanis bent down, kissed her lustrous hair. He remembered a half-elven youth who had run away from his people, his home; a half-elven youth who had run away from her. He guessed that she must be remembering the same.

  The hunger for change—the human curse.

  Or blessing.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll bring him back safely.”

  “If only he understood! We would sacrifice anything for him …”

  Laurana talked on, but Tanis wasn’t listening, not to her. He was listening to the voice of another woman, another mother.

  What would you sacrifice for your own son—your wealth? Your honor? Your very life? These were Sara’s words—Sara, surrogate mother of Steel Brightblade.

  Chilled, fearful, Tanis remembered the vision. He had not thought about it for years, had put it out of his mind. Once again he stood in the evil fortress of Lord Ariakan, Knight of Takhisis. Dark clouds parted; Solinari’s silver light shone through, giving Tanis a swift glimpse of danger and peril, swirling about his frail son like the driving rain. And then Solinari was swallowed by dark clouds. The vision was gone. And he had forgotten it.

  Until now.

  “What’s wrong?” Laurana was staring at him, frightened.

  How well she knew him! Too well …

  “Nothing,” he said, forcing a reassuring smile. “I had a bad dream last night, that’s all. I guess it’s still affecting me. About the war. You know.”

  Laurana knew. She had those dreams, too. And she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth, not because he didn’t love her or trust her or respect her, but simply because he couldn’t He had learned at an early age to keep his inner torments and hurts and fears well-hidden. To betray any weakness would give someone the advantage over him. She couldn’t blame him. She’d seen how he’d been raised. A half-human in elven soc
iety, he was permitted to live in Qualinesti out of charity and pity. But he had never been accepted. The elves had always let him know he was—and would ever be—an outsider.

  “What about Rashas?” she asked, tactfully changing the subject.

  “I’ll deal with Rashas,” Tanis said grimly. “I might have known he’d be behind this. Always plotting. I wonder why Porthios puts up with him.”

  “Porthios has other worries, my dear. But now that Silvanesti is free of Lorac’s dream, Porthios can finally return home and deal with matters in his own land.”

  Lorac’s dream. Lorac had been an elven king, ruler of Silvanesti before the War of the Lance. Afraid that his land was about to fall victim to the invading armies of the Dark Queen, Lorac had tried to use one of the powerful, magical dragon orbs to save his people, his land. Instead, tragically, Lorac had fallen victim to the orb. The evil dragon, Cyan Bloodbane, had taken over Silvanesti, whispered dark dreams into Lorac’s ears.

  The dreams had become reality. Silvanesti was a haunted and devastated land, crawling with evil creatures that were both real and, at the same time, a product of Lorac’s fear-twisted vision.

  Even after Lorac’s death and the Dark Queen’s defeat, Silvanesti had not been completely freed of the darkness. For long years, the elves had fought the remnants of the dream, fought the dark and evil creatures that still roamed the land. Only now, had they finally defeated them.

  Tanis thought of Lorac’s story, thought grimly that it had relevance in this day. Once again, some of the elves were acting irrationally, out of fear. Some of the old, set-in-their-ways elves like Senator Rashas …

  “At least now Porthios has something to take his mind off his troubles—now that Alhana is pregnant,” Tanis said, trying to present a cheerful front, even as he began lacing on his leather armor.

  Laurana looked at the armor, which he never wore unless he expected trouble. She bit her lip, but said nothing about it. She continued the conversation, followed his lead.

  “I know Alhana is pleased. She has wanted a child for so long. And I think Porthios is pleased, as well, though he tries to act as if fatherhood were nothing special. Just doing his duty by the people. I see a warmth between them that has been missing all these years. I really believe that they are beginning to care for each other.”