"Hello, Laura. I see that you are as beautiful, and gracious, as ever."
"What do you want? There is nothing for you here. Palin is through with magic-you, more than anyone, should know that!"
Dalamar sighed, having neither the energy nor the inclination for a confrontation with Palin's strong-willed sister.
"I need to talk to your brother. Can you tell me where he is? Or does such a conversation require advance approval from you?" he asked sharply.
She sniffed contemptuously and turned back to the side door of the inn from which she had emerged. "Wait here," she ordered, before she disappeared.
Dalamar scowled after her then turned his back. He rested his hands on the railing and breathed deeply, trying to get his bearings and relax. He could not allow himself to be agitated when he talked to Palin.
"Hello, my old… comrade. It is rather a surprise to see you," Palin said mildly, coming out and closing the door behind him.
"Not a pleasant one, if your sister's reaction is any guide."
Palin shrugged, offering a regretful smile. "Laura has never been shy about her opinions. I suspect she thinks you are a rather bad influence on me. But nevertheless, I did not expect to see you again… so soon."
Dalamar studied the former master of the White Robes. Palin looked healthier than he had in years: he was fit, broad-shouldered and held himself proudly erect. His hair, faded to a pale gray and thinned somewhat on top, was fastened in the back to a tail that hung down to the level of his shoulder blades. He advanced to clasp hands with the dark elf, their eyes meeting in appraisal. What do I see there, Dalamar wondered-and what does he see?
A serving maid came out the door with a tray. She set down a loaf of bread, a tub of butter, a pitcher of ale, and two mugs, and she wordlessly withdrew.
"Thank you," said Dalamar, his stomach rumbling audibly as the aroma of the loaf-obviously fresh from the oven-reached his nostrils.
"Actually, this repast comes from Laura," the man said with a chuckle. "Even at her sternest, she is an innkeeper at heart; she would not let a visitor stay thirsty or hungry." Palin settled into a chair, and Dalamar noticed the ease with which he leaned back, fully secure. This was a man who was utterly at peace with himself, the elf realized with some dismay.
The dark elf took an adjacent chair and allowed his host to fill the mugs in companionable silence. The sun was setting, sending dazzling beams through the giant, leafy vallenwoods, illuminating the forest city in a surreal glow. The cold drink went down easily, and the elf realized that he had grown quite parched during his magical flight. His mug was emptied in a surprisingly quick time, but he leaned forward, holding on to it with both hands. If he put it down, Palin would offer a refill, and Dalamar wanted to keep his wits about him.
He found it strangely difficult to begin. His host cut several slices of the bread, slathered them with butter, and handed one to the dark elf. It was excellent, of course: crusty and aromatic, firm and pleasantly chewy. After eating a couple of pieces, Dalamar did allow himself another mug of the ale. He sipped at the foamy head, then leaned back to look at the man who had been, in the dark elf's opinion, the second-greatest wizard upon Krynn.
"I went seeking the Tower of High Sorcery," Dalamar began.
Palin raised his eyebrows, not so much in surprise as curiosity. "It sounds as though you didn't find it," he suggested.
"I couldn't even locate Wayreth Forest," the elf said, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. "I searched the western border of Qualinesti, rode south from there… but nothing. I have been traveling for all the months since my… awakening."
The word hung like a noose between them. Palin, too, had suffered from Mina's curse, had been granted that awakening by his god. But it was not a thing they would ever discuss.
"The Tower is closed to you? Strange." Palin looked outside, where the white half-circle of Solinari was just visible through the upper terrace of a nearby vallenwood. The moon was setting.
Dalamar glanced toward the sky himself. He could see Nuitari, nearly full and still higher in his line of sight than the loftiest tree top. The black moon was a shiny orb to him, slick and glossy like a spot of oil.
"Is it up there? The black moon?" Palin asked.
"You can't sense it?" Dalamar responded, surprised. "I know that it is only the mages of the Black Robes who can see it, but you always knew where it was in the sky."
The human chuckled. "I guess I've stopped paying attention," he said. "Ironic, in a way-I spent forty years and more pining for those moons of magic. Now they have returned, and I hardly notice."
"Is it really true? You continue to foreswear your art, your gift?" The dark elf made the questions into a challenge.
Palin didn't rise to the bait. "As to 'gifts'… well, you enjoy that bounty. And perhaps I have simply chosen a new art. This town-it needs a lot of help. Can you believe they've made me mayor?" The man laughed quietly in wry amusement,
not without a hint of pride. "There are dangers in the wilds now-thieves, bandits and… darker things. Chaos looms on all sides. In any event, I have all that I can handle, right here, doing this job. And it is a calling that leaves me with a great peace in my soul at the end of every day."
Dalamar was silent, thinking, carefully masking his face to conceal his disappointment. His scheme seemed less than pointless, now. He saw clearly that all the compelling arguments and carefully reasoned points that he had formed in advance of this meeting were utterly toothless in the face of this man's bucolic contentment. The dark elf didn't even have the energy to plead his case-he had no wish to face the humiliation of Palin's polite refusal.
But his old colleague deserved, at least, an explanation.
"I came here to ask for your help, Palin. I thought that two robes might succeed where one was blocked, that the Tower might welcome us both, together. I will not ask that of you, though; I see now that you have come to the place where you belong." Dalamar grimaced. "Of course, if I thought there was even a chance I could change your mind, I wouldn't hesitate to use every kind of persuasion I could muster."
"You have some very persuasive techniques, I seem to recall," said Palin dryly.
"But nothing, I know, that could bend you, not here, not now. Palin, when you told me you were coming here, abandoning your robes, your spells… I felt only pity and contempt for you. I thought you were a fool, a weakling."
Palin eyed the elf, his face revealing no emotion. Dalamar continued.
"Now that I have seen you here, I confess it is not contempt that I feel. One might call it envy, even a trace of jealousy. I know I will never have what you possess, day in and day out, in this little village in the woods."
"Oh, there are times when I remember the power, with a twinge of longing," Palin admitted.
"And that power has returned, in full!" Dalamar spoke with sudden passion. "Palin, surely you can remember what it's like-to call upon the moon, to feel the pulse of sorcery in your heart, deep in your belly, your very soul! I tell you, this is a time of new magic, a historical cusp in the world!" The dark elf was clenching his mug, pleading after all.
"I can remember," the former white mage said calmly. "And that is enough for me. But I am glad that you came here-it is good to see you, my old… friend?" Palin couldn't help but turn the word into a question.
Dalamar laughed softly; he neither wanted, nor possessed, any "friends." Yet he realized that Palin was sincere, and that made the statement strangely touching.
"Thank you, but I should not have come. No doubt Laura is terribly worried about you. She has probably sent a messenger off to Usha already, urging your wife to come and rescue you from my clutches. So I will leave, and you can go comfort her." The dark elf tried to keep his tone light, though he knew his words were mocking. He felt the bitterness of his own defeat.
"What is the hurry? Where are you going?"
Dalamar shook his head without replying. There was only one place he could go, now, one per
son he must see, and he was not looking forward to either the journey, or the meeting.
"That was quite a steed that carried you to Solace," Palin continued genially, as if accepting Dalamar's silence as his answer. "The inn practically tilted out of the tree when everyone ran over to the south windows to see you arrive. If you would like to spend the night, and take time to study your spell book before you leave, you are welcome to stay. Laura will certainly give you a quiet room, with a good lantern for reading."
The dark elf set down his mug and stood up with a sigh. "Do you see me carrying a spell book? No, Palin, I have nothing to study. My spells are gone, and I don't even have an apprentice's scrolls to relearn them. Ironic, isn't it? I awakened with every one of my spells fresh and vibrant in my mind. I have used them-I teleported to Qualinesti. I used illusion and fireball against those who stood in my path. But each spell, when I use it… it is gone, as always. Only this time I have no book, no means to study, to relearn the spells. So the spells are leaving me, one by one, and it is like I am fast spending all the accumulated knowledge-the treasures-of my life.
"As for the next stage of my journey, it will be made on foot, or horseback… at least until I can board a ship for Palanthas. Then I will ride through the storms, puking my guts out, white knuckles on the railing like any tin merchant or coal shipper. There are still penalties I pay, daily."
"There is, perhaps, something I can do to help," Palin said. He leaned forward, conspiratorially. "You have to promise not to tell Laura-or Usha."
"You have my word," Dalamar said, irritated at the childish guise, even as he was fully intrigued.
The innkeeper rose and opened the side door. He called into the kitchen. "I'm taking Dalamar to the stables, Lar. I'll be back in an hour."
The elf heard several platters slam onto a tray, and an unpleasant snap of sound that he took to be Laura's dismissal. Palin turned back with an apologetic smile and led the dark wizard down the winding stairway toward the street. Dalamar felt good to stretch his legs. He supposed Palin was going to offer him a horse, and in light of the dark elf's current circumstances, that was something for which to be grateful.
The inn's stable was located against the bole of the great vallenwood, and Palin led him through the barn, where a stable boy was forking straw into various stalls. The former White Robe went into a small office at the very back of the rambling structure, a tiny room that was actually a small cubby chiseled right into the trunk of the great tree.
Palin carefully and quietly closed the door after Dalamar followed him through, and only then did he strike a match to a thin candle. Dalamar watched expressionlessly as the man touched a panel in what looked like the solid wall at the back of the room. The dark elf was moderately surprised when that section of wood slid backward to reveal a small alcove.
When Palin reached into that hole, Dalamar felt an unmistakable tingle at the back of his neck. Despite Palin's vow to the contrary, there was some hidden magic here! Carefully, the former white-robed mage pulled out a heavy object-a large, square object wrapped in what looked to be a soft doeskin. The dark elf's heart pounded with anticipation.
"I guess you could say that I have hedged my bet," Palin said. "I saved my very first spell book. It has many useful spells, and it could have taken me anywhere I needed to go, if I ever felt that I had to return to the life of sorcery."
Without hesitation, Palin held out the heavy book to Dalamar, who took it rather more quickly and fervently than he had intended. Palin smiled, with a hint of sadness.
"No, I want you to have it. And I am glad that you came here. I am sure you did not intend to do so, but your visit has confirmed for me that I've made the right choice-for Usha, for our children, but even, and without question, for me. I am through with that life, Dalamar, and you should make good use of this last vestige of my magic."
"I understand," said Dalamar; meaning that he understood that Palin was freely giving him this book of spells. In point of fact, he could not begin to grasp how Palin, a man capable of wielding almost unimaginable power, could turn his back on that power. But that was not a riddle the dark elf needed to solve. His hands trembled as he took the tome, clutched it to his chest.
Palin smiled now in genuine good humor. "Perhaps you would take that room, now? Just for the night? It seems that, after all, you might have something to study."
Dalamar nodded his thanks. He could hardly wait to sit down, light a lamp, and start to read.
Chapter 8
Passing through Palanthas
Jenna was already walking as the teleport spell faded around her. The lingering wisps of sparkling light quickly evanesced into nothingness. She crossed the anteroom of her villa, her temper foul and her skin clammy. Her assistant, Rupert, stood nearby, as usual having uncannily anticipated her arrival. He came forward to take the heavy cloak as his mistress sniffed in annoyance.
"Kendermore was even worse than Kothas," she declared haughtily. "Not a true wizard to be found in either place, though there are quite a few pretenders. Wild sorcery, on the other hand, is everywhere."
"The minotaurs, as you suspect, are making trouble?"
"Very much," Jenna said, with a shake of her head. "But that's not my problem."
"And the humans in the east, the caliph's realm?" inquired Rupert. "You had no luck there, as well?"
"They might as well be barbarians!" snapped the Red Robe. "Their women are kept locked away, or else put up for sale. And the men are so busy cheating each other that they wouldn't know real magic if it turned them into toads!"
"That is unfortunate, my lady. I do hope you will not lose faith."
Jenna sighed. "In truth, the people are as backward everywhere," she declared. "Simply ignorant of the ways of real magic. Perhaps our gods were gone away for too long."
"I trust that is not the case," Rupert said solemnly. "Keep heart, my lady! As I recall, this is no less than you expected."
"No, you're right," Jenna said, pulling the pins out of her bun, letting her gray hair-as soft and luxurious as a much younger woman's-cascade across her shoulders. "But I suppose I had my hopes up. After all, it's been more than half a year since the gods of magic returned to the skies-surely some of my order should have emerged, somewhere on Krynn!"
"The Tower of High Sorcery might hold your answers. You still have not discovered the key?"
She shook her head again. "The Master is as stubborn as ever-if he still exists. I have concluded that, by myself, I will be unable even to find the Forest of Wayreth, much less gain access to the Tower of High Sorcery."
"Undoubtedly you will find that secret, and in good time," said the dignified servant. "For now, you should know that you have received visitors in your absence."
"Visitors? When did they arrive?"
"Only this morning, my lady."
"Well, who are they?"
"A young lady… from the country, I should say, if not the wilderness itself. And"-Rupert sniffed audibly-"a kender."
Jenna chuckled for the first time all day. "Well, maybe things are about to get more interesting. Where are they?"
"I took the precaution of having them wait in the breeze-way. I posted several of your men-at-arms there, as well."
Jenna crossed the wide hall and threw open the doorway to the outer porch, the balcony where she so often enjoyed the breezes coming off the Bay of Branchala.
"Moptop Bristlebrow!" she declared, immediately recognizing the diminutive visitor. She nodded at the two stout guardsmen who stood within an arm's reach to either side of the kender. "You two can go now," she allowed. Then she turned her attention to the second visitor, a dark-haired girl-or young woman-who regarded her with a strange mixture of curiosity and aloofness.
"Welcome to you both," Jenna said. "And what brings you the Red Manor of Palanthas?"
Coryn was staring at the most striking woman she had ever seen. This Jenna had graying hair that was nevertheless lush and full, and the smooth skin of her face belie
d her apparent age. She wore many necklaces, and an array of jewels, feathers, and precious rings dangled from them. More rings adorned her well-manicured fingers, and she wore a robe of deep red that swished easily as she walked, like soft velvet.
It took a second before the girl realized that Mistress Jenna-the lady she had been sent to meet-had asked her a question. Hastily she curtsied, at least insofar as she had guessed how to fake a curtsy, and replied. "I am Coryn Brinefolk, from the village of Two Forks in the Icereach. My grandmother is Scharon Fallow. She sent me to find you-she asked Moptop to bring me here from the Icereach, and she said that I should give you this-"
"Scharon Fallow!" Jenna practically shouted and reached for the scroll that Coryn pulled, still sealed by Umma's wax stamp, from her knapsack. She extended it to Jenna with a shaking hand, hoping that, maybe, Jenna would tell her what her grandmother had written.
Jenna inspected the seal for a moment then broke the wax. She unrolled the parchment and read intensely, stopping only once to look up and fix a penetrating glance on Coryn. The girl squirmed under the scrutiny, but felt no relief as the older woman returned her attention to Umma's note. When Jenna looked up again, it was to offer the kender a disarming smile.
"Thank you, Moptop. I appreciate the job you have done-go and help yourself to whatever you'd like from the kitchen." The smile faded to a more inscrutable expression, as she turned back to Coryn. "Come with me," she said.
"Yes, Ma'am," said the girl, hastily picking up her knapsack and following Jenna through the door.
The room they entered was, simply, the largest enclosed space Coryn had ever seen. "Oh, my," she murmured.
"You don't have houses like this in Two Forks?" asked Jenna, in a serious tone.
"No, my lady. Nor in any of the places we passed through on the way to Palanthas."
Cory's mind had been filled with wonders in the past weeks, during the trek that the kender had taken her on through ancient Tarsis, through a decrepit seaport and aboard ship to cross the Newsea, and, just this very dawn, into the crowded streets of Palanthas. Throughout the journey, Moptop had maintained a steady chatter. He cheerfully informed her of nearby places where terrifying monsters had lurked, the sites of horrific battles and massacres throughout history, scenes of wrack and ruin brought about by the First Cataclysm, and seemingly innumerable dangers lurking just beyond every hillcrest, each bend in the road, any given swell of the sea.
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