Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

Steel pretended he didn’t hear. Turning his face toward the High Clerist’s Tower, he climbed up out of the brush and stepped onto the causeway. He assumed his uncle and the half-elf would follow.

Tanis and Caramon flanked the dark paladin, one on each side of him, as they proceeded down the broad road leading to the tower’s main gate. Caramon had his hand on the hilt of his sword, a grim and threatening expression on his face. Tanis kept close watch on those who passed them, waiting tensely for the expression of loathing, shocked horror—the outcry that would bring down on them a squadron of knights.

Steel walked tall and proud, the cold and handsome face impassive. If he was at all nervous, he was keeping it to himself.

Few, however, spared them a glance. Most of those who traveled this road were absorbed with their own private worries and concerns. And who would notice three armed men in this bastion of armed men? The only ones who did take note of them were the pretty young women accompanying their knightly father to the tower. They smiled at the handsome young knight in admiration, did everything short of tumbling out of their carriage to attract Steel’s attention.

Tanis was extremely puzzled by this. Did the symbols of terror and death the dark paladin wore plainly on his person no longer have any effect on people? Had the Solamnians forgotten the dread power of the Dark Queen? Or were they just mindlessly, stupidly complacent?

Tanis, glancing at Steel, saw the young man’s lip curl in scorn. He was finding this amusing.

Tanis quickened his pace. There was still the main gate to pass.

The half-elf had thought up and then discarded several arguments for allowing a Knight of Takhisis to enter the stronghold of Paladine. He had at last been forced to admit to himself that there could be no logical argument. As a last resort, he would use his standing as a renowned hero and respected government official to bully his way inside.

Wishing that he was decked out in his full ceremonial regalia, instead of his worn, albeit comfortable, traveling clothes, Tanis put on his you’ll-do-what-I-say-and-like-it mask and strode up to the knights guarding the main gate.

Caramon and Steel came to a halt about a pace behind. Steel’s face was hard, his dark eyes opaque, head thrown back in defiance.

One of the knights on guard duty stepped forward to meet them. His gaze swept over them with mild and friendly curiosity.

“Your names, gentle sirs,” said the knight courteously. “And please state your business.”

“I am Tanis Half-Elven.” Tanis was so pent up, the words came out in an explosive bark, practically a shout. Forcing himself to calm down, he added in softer tones, “This is Caramon Majere ...”

“Tanis Half-Elven and the famous Caramon Majere!” The young knight was impressed. “I am honored to meet you, sirs.” In an undertone, he said to a cohort, “It’s Tanis Half-Elven. Run and fetch Sir Wilhelm.”

Probably the lord knight in charge of the gate.

“Please, there’s no need to make a fuss,” Tanis urged hastily, with what he hoped sounded like becoming modesty. “My friends and I are here on a pilgrimage to the Chamber of Paladine. We simply want to pay our respects, nothing more.”

The young knight’s face immediately assumed an expression of grave sympathy. “Yes, of course, my lord.” His gaze shifted from Caramon, who glowered and appeared ready to take on the fortress single-handedly, then the knight looked at Steel.

Tanis tensed. He could already picture it. The young guard’s astonishment changing to fury, the ringing trumpet call that would sound the alarm, bring down the portcullis, surround them with swords...

“I see you are a Knight of the Crown, sir, like myself,” the young knight was saying .. . and he was saying it to Steel! The Solamnic Knight touched his breastplate, on which was the symbol of the lowest of the ranks of the Knights of Solamnia. He gave Steel the knight’s salute on meeting a comrade, a lifting of the gloved hand to the helm. “I am Sir Reginald. You don’t look familiar, Sir Knight. Where did you take your training?”

Tanis blinked, stared. Were they letting the nearsighted into the knighthood these days? He looked at Steel, saw black armor adorned with the Dark Queen’s emblems: lily, axe, skull. Yet the Solamnic Knight was smiling and treating Steel as if they’d been barracks mates.

Had Steel cast some sort of spell on the knight? Was it possible? Tanis looked at him sharply, then relaxed. No, Steel was obviously as confused about what was going on as Tanis. Defiance had seeped out of the young man. He looked dazed and a little foolish.

Caramon’s mouth hung wide open. A sparrow could have flown in and nested there, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Where did you take your training, sir?” the knight asked again, in a friendly fashion.

“K-kendermore,” Tanis said the first thing that came into his head.

The young knight was immediately sympathetic. “Ah, rough duty, I hear. I’d rather patrol Flotsam myself. Is this your first visit to the tower? I have an idea.” The knight turned to Tanis. “After you’ve paid your respects in the Chamber of Paladine, why don’t you hand over your friend to me? I’m off duty in half an hour. I’ll take him all around the tower, show him our defenses, fortifications—”

“I don’t believe that would be a good idea!” Tanis gasped. He was shaking, sweating beneath the leather armor. “We ... we’re expected in Palanthas. Our wives are waiting for us, aren’t they, Caramon?”

Caramon took the hint. His mouth snapped shut. He managed to mumble something incoherent about Tika.

“Perhaps another time,” Tanis added regretfully. He stole a glance at Steel, thinking that the young man must be getting quite a laugh out of all this.

Steel was shaken, pale, his eyes wide. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Well, thought Tanis, that’s what happens when you brush up against a god.

Sir Wilhelm arrived and took charge of them at once. He was, Tanis was sorry to note, one of the old-time, pompous, set-in-the-saddle type of knights; the kind who let the Oath and the Measure do his thinking for him. He was the type of knight Sturm Brightblade had always detested. Fortunately, there were far fewer of Sir Wilhelm’s sort these days than there had been in the past. A pity some god—or goddess—had put him in their path.

And, of course, Sir Wilhelm was insisting on personally accompanying them to the tomb.

“Thank you, my lord.” Tanis attempted to rid himself of the man. ” But this is a very poignant moment for us, as you can imagine. We would prefer to be by ourselves ...”

Impossible! (Harumph) Sir Wilhelm would never permit it. (Harumph) The famous Tanis Half-Elven and the famous Caramon Majere and their young friend, a Knight of the Crown, paying his first visit to the Chamber of Paladine. No, no, (Harumph, harumph) this called for a full escort of knights!

Sir Wilhelm rounded up his escort, six knights, all armed. Forming them into ranks, he himself led the way to the Chamber of Paladine, marching with slow and solemn step, as though leading a funeral procession.

“Maybe he is,” Tanis said into his beard. “Ours.”

He glanced at Caramon. The big man shrugged unhappily. They had no choice but to follow decorously along behind.

The knights headed for two closed iron doors marked with the symbol of Paladine. Beyond those doors, a narrow staircase led down into the sepulcher.

Steel edged alongside Tanis. “What did you do back there?” he demanded, speaking in a low voice, his distrustful gaze divided between the half-elf beside him and the knights marching ahead of him.

“Me? Nothing,” Tanis returned.