Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

Due to his illness, Gil was not permitted to play with other children, supposing there had been any other children living near them, which there weren’t. Tanis Half-Elven liked his privacy, had deliberately built his house far from those of his neighbors. Often alone, left to his own thoughts, Gil had developed many strange fancies. One of these was that his headaches were caused by the human blood in hisveins. He had the nightmarish impression, brought on by the horrible pain, that if he could cut his vein s open and drain out this alien blood, the pain would end. He never spoke of such fancies to anyone.

Laurana was not ashamed of having married a half-human. She often teased Tanis about the beard he wore, a beard no elf male could grow.

Tanis wasn’t ashamed of being half-human. His son was.

Gil dreamt of the elven homeland he had never seen, probably would never see. The trees of Qualinesti were more real to him than the trees in his father’s garden. Gil couldn’t understand why his parents rarely visited Qualinesti, why they never took him with them when they did. But he knew (or believed he knew) that this alienation was his father’s fault. And so the young man came to resent Tanis with a passion that sometimes frightened him.

“There is nothing of my father in me!” Gil would say to himself reassuringly every day, as he peered anxiously into the mirror, fearful that unsightly human hair might start sprouting on his chin.

“Nothing!” he would repeat in satisfaction, surveying his clear, smooth skin. Nothing except blood. Human blood.

And because Gil feared it, he couldn’t speak of it, couldn’t admit it. And so he kept silent.

The silence between father and son had been built brick by brick over the years. It was now a wall not easily scaled.

“Well, aren’t you going to read the letter, Father?” Gil demanded. Tanis frowned, not liking his son’s insolent tone.

Gil waited for his father to reprimand him. The young man wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to goad his father into losing his temper. Things would be said... things that needed to be said ...

But Tanis put on the patient smile he had taken to wearing around his son and removed the scroll from its case.

Gil turned his back. Stalking over to the window, he stared unseeing down on the lush and elaborately laid out garden below. He had half a mind to walk out of the room, but he wanted to hear what Caramon Majere had to say.

Gil had no use for most of the humans he’d met, those who came to visit his parents. He considered them loud, clumsy, and oafish. But Gil liked the big, jovial Caramon, liked his wide, generous smile, his boisterous laugh. Gil enjoyed hearing about Caramon’s sons, particularly the exploits of the two elder boys, Sturm and Tanin, who had traveled all over most of Ansalon in search of adventure. They were now attempting to become the first men born outside of Solamnia to enter the knighthood.

Gil had never met Caramon’s sons. A few years ago, after returning from some secret mission with Tanis, Caramon had offered to take Gil to visit the inn. Tanis and Laurana had refused to even consider it. Gil had been so furious that he had moped about his room for a week.

Tanis unrolled the scroll and was rapidly scanning through it.

“I hope all is well with Caramon,” Laurana said. She sounded anxious. She had not returned to her writing, but was watching Tanis’s face as he read the message.

Gil turned. Tanis did look worried, but when he reached the end, he smiled. Then he shook his head and sighed.

“Caramon’s youngest boy, Palin, has just taken and passed the Test in the Tower of High Sorcery. He is a white-robed mage now.”

“Paladine save us!” Laurana exclaimed in astonishment. “I knew the young man was studying magic, but I never thought he was serious. Caramon always said it was a passing fancy.”

“He always hoped it was a passing fancy,” Tanis amended.

“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 saiddryly.

“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.”