Margaret Weis - Test of the Twins

“Then you have told me all I need to hear,” Tanis said, rising, his voice taut with grief and fury. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll seek out Raistlin and I’ll—”

“Sit down, Half-Elven,” Dalamar said. He did not raise his voice, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes that made Tanis’s hand reach for the hilt of his sword, only to remember that—since he was visiting the Temple of Paladine—he had not worn it. More furious still, not trusting himself to speak, Tanis bowed to Elistan, then to Astinus, and started for the door.

“You will care what becomes of Raistlin, Tanis Half-Elven,” Dalamar’s smooth voice intercepted him, “because it affects you. It affects all of us. Do I speak truly, Revered Son?”

“He does, Tanis,” Elistan said. “I understand your feelings, but you must put them aside!”

Astinus said nothing, the scratching of his pen was the only indication that the man was in the room. Tanis clenched his fists, then, with a vicious oath that caused even Astinus to glance up, the half-elf turned to Dalamar. “Very well, then. What could Raistlin possibly do that would further hurt and injure and destroy those around him?”

“I said when I began that our worst fears were realized,” Dalamar replied, his slanted, elven eyes looking into the slightly slanted eyes of the half-elf.

“Yes,” snapped Tanis impatiently, still standing.

Dalamar paused dramatically. Astinus, looking up again, raised his gray eyebrows in mild annoyance.

“Raistlin has entered the Abyss. He and Lady Crysania will challenge the Queen of Darkness.”

Tanis stared at Dalamar in disbelief. Then he burst out laughing. “Well,” he said, shrugging, “it seems I have little to worry about. The mage has sealed his own doom.”

But Tanis’s laughter fell flat. Dalamar regarded him with cool, cynical amusement, as if he might have expected this absurd response from a half-human. Astinus snorted and kept writing. Elistan’s frail shoulders slumped. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against his pillows.

Tanis stared at all of them. “You cant consider this a serious threat!” he demanded. “By the gods, I have stood before the Queen of Darkness! I have felt her power and her majesty—and that was when she was only partially in this plane of existence.” The half-elf shuddered involuntarily. “I cant imagine what it would be like to meet her on her own... her own...”

“You are not alone, Tanis,” said Elistan wearily. “I, too, have conversed with the Dark Queen.” He opened his eyes, smiling wanly. “Does that surprise you? I have had my trials and temptations as have all men.”

“Once only has she come to me.” Dalamar’s face paled, and there was fear in his eyes. He licked his lips. “And that was to bring me these tidings.”

Astinus said nothing, but he had ceased to write. Rock itself was more expressive than the historians face.

Tanis shook his head in wonder. “You’ve met the Queen, Elistan? You acknowledge her power? Yet you still think that a frail and sickly wizard and an old-maid cleric can somehow do her harm?”

Elistan’s eyes flashed, his lips tightened, and Tanis knew he had gone too far. Flushing, he scratched his beard and started to apologize, then stubbornly snapped his mouth shut. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, walking back and throwing himself down in his chair.

“Well, how in the Abyss do we stop him?” Realizing what he’d said, Tanis’s flush deepened. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t mean to make this a joke. Everything I’m saying seems to be coming out wrong. But, damn it, I don’t understand! Are we supposed to stop Raistlin or cheer him on?”

“You cannot stop him.” Dalamar interposed coolly as Elistan seemed about to speak. “That we mages alone can do. Our plans for this have been underway for many weeks now, ever since we first learned of this threat. You see, Half-Elven, what you have said is—in part—correct. Raistlin knows, we all know, that he cannot defeat the Queen of Darkness on her own plane of existence. Therefore, it is his plan to draw her out, to bring her back through the Portal and into the world—”

Tanis felt as if he had been punched hard in the stomach. For a moment, he could not draw a breath. “That’s madness,” he managed to gasp finally, his hands curling over the armrests of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the strain. “We barely defeated her at Neraka as it was! He’s going to bring her back into the world?”

“Unless he can be stopped,” Dalamar continued, “which is my duty, as I have said.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Tanis demanded, leaning forward. “Why have you brought us here? Are we to sit around and watch? I—”

“Patience, Tanis!” Elistan interrupted. “You are nervous and afraid. We all share these feelings.”

With the exception of that granite-hearted historian over there, Tanis thought bitterly.

“But nothing will be gained by rash acts or wild words.” Elistan looked over at the dark elf and his voice grew softer. “I believe that we have not yet heard the worst, is that true, Dalamar?”

“Yes, Revered Son,” Dalamar said, and Tanis was surprised to see a trace of emotion flicker in the elf’s slanted eyes. “I have received word that Dragon Highlord Kitiara” the elf choked slightly, cleared his throat, and continued speaking more firmly—“Kitiara is planning a full-scale assault on Palanthas.”

Tanis sank back in his chair. His first thought was one of bitter, cynical amusement—I told you so, Lord Amothus. I told you so, Porthios. I told you, all of you who want to crawl back into your nice, warm little nests and pretend the war never happened. His second thoughts were more sobering. Memories returned—the city of Tarsis in flames, the dragonarmies taking over Solace, the pain, the suffering... death.

Elistan was saying something, but Tanis couldn’t hear. He leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to think. He remembered Dalamar talking about Kitiara, but what was it he had said? It drifted on the fringes of his consciousness. He had been thinking about Kit. He hadn’t been paying attention. The words were vague...

“Wait!” Tanis sat up, suddenly remembering. “You said Kitiara was furious with Raistlin. You said she was just as frightened of the Queen reentering the world as we are. That was why she ordered Soth to kill Crysania. If that’s true, why is she attacking Palanthas? That doesn’t make sense! She grows in strength daily in Sanction. The evil dragons have congregated there and we have reports that the draconians who were scattered after the war have also been regrouping under her command. But Sanction is a long way from Palanthas. The lands of t he Knights of Solamnia lie in between. The good dragons will rise up and fight if the evil ones take to the skies again. Why? Why would she risk all she has gained? And for what—”

“You know Lord Kitiara I believe, Half-Elven?” Dalamar interrupted.

Tanis choked, coughed, and muttered something.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, damn it, I know her!” Tanis snapped, caught Elistan’s glance, and sank back into his chair once again, feeling his skin burn.

“You are right,” Dalamar said smoothly, a glint of amusement in his light, elven eyes. “When Kitiara first heard about Raistlin’s s plan, she was frightened. Not for him, of course, but for fear that he would bring the wrath of the Dark Queen down upon her. But”—Dalamar shrugged—“this was when Kitiara believed Raistlin must lose. Now, it seems, she thinks he has a chance to win. And Kit will always try to be on the winning side. She plans to conquer Palanthas and be prepared to greet the wizard as he passes through the Portal. Kit will offer the might of her armies to her brother. If he is strong enough—and by this time, he should be—he can easily convert the evil creatures from their allegiance to the Dark Queen to serving his cause.”