Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

“Glob, you fool! Now you’ve done it! Ariakan will have your ears for this!”

Snatching the torch from the goblin’s hand, Sara hurled it into the mud. The flame sputtered and went out.

“What you mean?” demanded Glob. “What I do? He be a damn elf! A spy!”

“Of course, he’s a spy,” Sara snarled. “You’ve just unmasked one of my lord’s double agents! You may have jeopardized the entire mission! If Ariakan hears of this, he’ll have your tongue cut out!”

“Me no talk,” Glob returned sullenly. “Lord-man know that.”

“You’d talk fast enough if some white-robed mage got hold of you,” Sara predicted grimly.

Caramon had released his sword, but he stood large and threatening. Tanis flipped his cloak over his face and glowered balefully at the goblin.

The goblin’s face twisted in a scowl. He stared at Tanis with hatred. “I don’t care what you say. I go report this.”

“It’s your tongue,” said Sara, shrugging. “Remember what happened to Blosh. And if you don’t, go ask him. But don’t hold your breath, waiting for him to answer.”

The goblin flinched. The aforementioned tongue flicked nervously over its rotting yellow teeth. Then, with another glare at Tanis, the goblin ran off.

“This way,” said Sara.

Caramon and Tanis trudged after her. Both cast oblique glances at the goblin and saw the creature accost a tall man in black armor. The goblin, talking in a shrill voice, pointed at them. They all caught one word: elf.

“Keep walking,” Sara said. “Pretend you don’t notice.”

“I should have wrung the creature’s neck,” Caramon muttered, hand on his sword hilt.

“Nowhere to hide the body,” Sara said in cool, practical tones. “Someone would have found the wretch and there would have been the Abyss to pay. Discipline is strict here.”

“Ariakan’s whore ...” The goblin’s voice carried clearly.

Sara’s lips tightened, but she managed a smile. “I don’t think we have much to worry about. Ah, there, see?”

“Speak of Mistress Sara with respect, toad!”

The knight struck the goblin across the face, sent the creature sprawling backward into the stable muck. Then the knight strode on about more pressing matters.

Sara continued walking.

“This business about us being spies. That was fast thinking,” said Tanis, at her shoulder. Caramon, glancing around watchfully, brought up the rear.

“Not really.” Sara shrugged. “I had already planned out my story, in case we were seen. Ariakan has been bringing his agents here, mostly to impress them, I think. A goblin made the mistake of blabbing that he recognized one. Ariakan had the creature’s tongue cut out. That gave me the idea.”

“Will the dragon say anything?”

“I’ve told the dragon the same story. Flare is loyal to me, anyway. Blues are. They’re not like reds.”

“That knight seemed to respect you ...” Tanis began.

“Unusual—for a whore.” Sara finished his sentence for him.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“No, but it’s what you were thinking.” Sara walked on in bitter silence, her eyes blinking against the rain and spray that lashed her face.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” Tanis said, resting his hand on her arm. “Truly.”

She sighed. “No, I’m the one to apologize. You spoke only the truth.” Lifting her head proudly, she turned to face him. “I am what I am. I’m not ashamed. I would do it again. What would you sacrifice for your own son—your wealth? Your honor? Your very life?”

Clouds scudded across the night sky and, suddenly, for one instant, Solinari, the silver moon, was free of them. Its bright light shone down on Storm’s Keep, and for a strange instant, Tanis saw the future illuminated for him, as if Sara’s words had opened a door of a moonlit room. He had only a swift glimpse of danger and peril, swirling about his frail son like the driving rain, and then clouds blew back across Solinari, hiding it from sight, blotting out its silver light. The door shut, leaving Tanis disturbed and frightened.

“Ariakan didn’t mistreat me,” Sara was saying some what defensively, mistaking the half-elf’s shaken silence for the silence of disapproval. “It was always understood between us that he would use me for his pleasure, nothing more. He will not take a wife, not now. He is over forty, married to war.

“ 'All true knights should have only one true love' he says. 'And that true love is battle.' He considers himself a father to the young paladins. He teaches them discipline and respect for their fellow knights, respect for their enemies. He teaches them honor and self-sacrifice. Such things, he deems, are the secrets of the Solamnic Knights' victory.

“'The knights did not defeat us,' Ariakan tells the young men. 'We defeated ourselves, by selfishly pursuing our own petty ambitions and conquests instead of banding together to serve our great queen.' ”

“ 'Evil turns upon itself/ ” quoted Tanis, trying to banish the terror that haunted him, the afterimage of the startling vision of his son.

“Once it did,” said Sara, “but no more. These knights have been raised together from childhood. They are a close-knit family. Every young paladin here would willingly sacrifice his life to save his brother ... or to further the Dark Queen’s ambitions.”

Tanis shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Sara. It is the nature of evil to be selfish, to look out for oneself to the detriment of others. If this were not so ..."

He faltered, fell silent.

“Yes,” Sara urged him to continue. “What if it were not so?”

“If evil men were to act out of what they perceive to be noble cause and purpose, if they were willing to sacrifice themselves for such causes ...” Tanis looked grave. “Then, yes, I think the world might well be in trouble.”

He drew his cloak more closely about him. The chill, damp air made him shiver.

“But that just isn’t the way things work, thank the gods.”

“Reserve your judgment and your thanks,” Sara said in a soft, trembling voice. “You haven’t yet met Sturm’s son."

Sara’s house was a two-room dwelling, one of a number huddled against the outside walls of the fortress, as if the house itself was frightened of the crashing waves beating on the rocks and sought the protection of stolid walls. Tanis could hear the boom of the waves, crashing with monotonous regularity less than a mile away from where they stood. Salt spray blew against their cheeks, left brine on their lips.

“Hurry,” Sara said, unlocking the door. “Steel will be off duty soon.”

She hustled them inside. The house was small, but snugly built, warm and dry. Furnishings were sparse. An iron pot hung in a large stone fireplace. A table and two chairs stood near the fire. Behind a curtain, in another room, was a bed and a large wooden chest.

“Steel lives in the barracks with the other knights,” Sara said, bustling about, hastily throwing meat and a few vegetables into the pot, while Caramon stirred up the fire. “But he is permitted to eat his meals with me.”

Tanis, lost in his own gloomy reflections, still haunted by that vision of his son, said nothing.

Sara poured water in the pot. Caramon had a roaring blaze going beneath it.

“You two hide back there, behind the curtain,” Sara instructed, pushing them toward the bedroom. “I don’t need to warn you to keep quiet. Fortunately, the wind and the waves generally make enough noise that it’s sometimes hard to hear ourselves talk.”

“What’s your plan?” Tanis asked.

In answer, Sara removed a small vial from her pocket, held it up for him to see.