Margaret Weis: The Second Generation

“Well. .. maybe.” Caramon appeared dubious. “I’ve seen some strange things in my life, but I still don’t understand. What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to take Steel to the High Clerist’s Tower.”

Caramon’s jaw sagged. “Just like that! And what if he doesn’t want to go?”

“Oh, he won’t,” Sara said confidently. “You’re going to have to use force. Probably take him at sword point. And that won’t be easy. He’s strong and a skilled warrior, but you can do it. You’re a Hero of the Lance.”

Perplexed, baffled, Caramon gazed at the woman in uncomfortable silence.

“You must do it,” Sara pleaded, clasping her hands in supplication. Tears slid unheeded down her cheeks; weariness and fear and sorrow finally overcame her. “Or Sturm’s son will be lost!”

“Well,” said Tika, jumping briskly to her feet, “if you two are going to leave before dawn, you’d better get started.”

“What?” Caramon stared at his wife. “You can’t be serious.”

“I most certainly am.”

“But—”

“The boy’s your nephew,” Tika informed him, hands on her hips.

“Yes, but—”

“And Sturm was your friend.”

“I know that, but—”

“If s your duty. And that's that,” Tika concluded. “Now, where did we pack away your armor?” She eyed him critically. “The breastplate won’t fit, but the chain mail might—”

“You expect me to go riding a blue dragon into a... a—” Caramon looked at Sara.

“Fortress,” she told him. “On an island, far to the north, in the Sirrion Sea.”

“An island fortress. A secret stronghold filled with legions of dark paladins dedicated to the service of the Dark Queen! And once in this fortress, I’m supposed to snatch up a trained knight in the prime of his life and haul him off to pay a visit to the High Clerist's Tower. And if I even get there alive, which I doubt I’ll do, then you expect the Solamnic Knights to just let us stroll in? Me and a knight of evil?”

Caramon was forced to shout this last. Tika had walked out on him, into the kitchen.

“If one side doesn’t kill me,” he bellowed, “the other will!”

“Hush, dear, you’ll wake the children.” Tika returned, carrying a bag, redolent with the odor of roasted meat, and a waterskin. “You’ll be hungry by morning. I’ll just go fetch you a fresh shirt. You’ll have to see to the armor. I remember—it’s in the big chest under the bed. And don’t worry, dear,” she said, stopping to give him a hurried kiss. “I’m sure Sara has devised a way to get you inside the fortress. As for the High Clerist’s Tower, Tanis will come up with a plan.”

“Tanis!” Caramon regarded her blankly.

“Well, of course, you’re going to pick up Tanis on the way. You can’t go alone. You’re not in the best of shape. Besides...” She glanced at Sara, who had donned her cloak and was standing impatiently by the door. Tika took hold of her husband’s ear and pulled his head down to her level. “Kitiara may have lied,” she whispered. “Tanis may be the real father. He should see the boy.

“Then, too,” she added aloud, as Caramon rubbed his ear, “Tanis is the only one who can get you into the High Clerist’s Tower. The knights will have to let him inside. They wouldn’t dare offend him or Laurana.”

Tika turned to Sara with an explanation. “Laurana is Tanis’s wife. She was one of the leaders of the Knights of Solamnia during the War of the Lance. She is highly revered among them. Now she and Tanis are both serving as liaisons between the knights and the elven nations. Her brother, Porthios, is the Speaker of the elven nations. To offend either Tanis or Laurana would be tantamount to offending the elves, and the knights would never do such a thing. Would they, Caramon?”

“I s’pose.” Caramon looked dizzy. Events were happening too fast. Tika knew this was the case, knew how to handle her husband. She had to keep things moving fast. If once he stopped and got to thinking about it, he’d never budge. As it was, she could already see him mulling it over.

“Maybe we should wait until the boys come back from the plains,” he hedged.

“No time, dear,” Tika said, having anticipated this. “You know that they always spend a month with Riverwind and Goldmoon, going out hunting and learning woodcraft and that sort of thing. Besides, once they set eyes on Goldmoon’s beautiful daughters, our boys will be even less anxious to leave. Now, off with you.” She pushed Caramon, blinking and scratching his head, toward the door that led back to their private chambers. “Do you remember how to reach Tanis’s castle?”

“Yes, I remember!” Caramon snapped quickly.

Too quickly. And therefore Tika knew he didn’t remember; he was having to think about it, which was good, because that meant he’d be occupied with trying to figure out how to reach Tanis’s dwelling for the length of time it would take him to get ready. Which meant he’d be well on his way before it occurred to him to consider anything else.

Like the danger.

Once he was out of sight, Tika’s briskness evaporated. Her shoulders sagged.

Sara, keeping watch out the window, turned at the sudden silence. Seeing the bleak and unhappy look on Tika’s face, Sara walked over to stand beside her.

“Thank you for what you’ve done. I know this can’t be easy for you to let him go. I won’t say there isn’t any danger. That would be lying. But you’re right. I have thought of a way to sneak him inside the fortress. And taking Tanis Half-Elven with us is an excellent idea.”

“I should be used to it,” said Tika, clutching the meat sack in her hands. “I sent my two boys off yesterday. They’re younger than your son. They want to be knights. I smile when I tell them good-bye. I call after them that I’ll see them in a week or a month or whatever. And I don’t let myself think that I may not, that I may never see them again. But the knowledge is there, in my heart.”

“I understand,” said Sara, “I’ve done it myself. But at least you know your boys are riding in the sunlight. They are not shrouded by darkness ...” She put her hand to her mouth and choked back a sob.

Tika put her arm around her.

“What if I’m too late?” Sara cried in a low voice. “I should have come sooner, but. . . I never believed he would really go through with it. I always hoped he would give it up!”

“It will be all right,” Tika soothed her. “It will all be all right.”

Caramon came out of the bedroom. He was draped in chain mail, which fit well over his shoulders, but didn’t quite do its job covering his middle. The big man wore an aggrieved expression.

“You know, Tika,” he said, solemnly, staring down at the clanking mail with a frown. “I don’t remember this stuff being this heavy."

Caramon did finally recall how to reach Tanis’s castle, located in Solanthus, but he knew the directions only by traveling overland, not by dragon back.

Sara, however, was familiar with the entire continent of Ansalon—a familiarity Caramon found disquieting.

“Ariakan has excellent maps,” she said, in some confusion.

Caramon wondered just why the Knights of Takhisis had excellent maps of the continent. Unfortunately, the reason wasn’t difficult to guess.

The journey took hardly any time at all. Far too little time, for Caramon, who sat hunched on the back of the dragon saddle, cold and hungry (he’d long since eaten the meat), all the sleep startled out of him. He was trying to think of how he was going to explain this strange tale to his friend Tanis. And what if Tanis is the father? Caramon mulled the matter over. Am I doing him a favor by springing a son on him? What will Laurana say? She never had any use for Kit, that’s for damn sure. And what about Tanis’s own son? How will this make him feel?