Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

Tanis did the same, then set the glass down. He didn’t need a fuzzy head, a fevered brain. Silently, he waited.

Dalamar held his glass to the firelight, studied the wine’s crimson color. “Like blood, isn’t it?”

His gaze shifted to Tanis. “You want to know what is going on? I’ll tell you. The Dark Queen is back in the game. She is arranging her pieces on the board, putting them into position. She has stretched forth her arm, sent out her seductive call. Many feel her touch, many hear her voice. Many are moved to do her bidding—without ever realizing that they are acting for her.

“But then,” Dalamar added wryly, “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I, my friend?” Tanis took care to look blank.

“Storm’s Keep?” the dark elf pursued. “Surely you haven’t forgotten your visit to Ariakan’s fortress?”

“Why are you telling me these things?” Tanis demanded. “You’re not thinking of changing robes, are you?”

Dalamar laughed. “White is not my color. Don’t worry, my friend. I’m not betraying any of my queen’s secrets. Takhisis understands the mistakes she made in the past. She has learned from them. She won’t repeat them. She is moving slowly, subtly, in ways completely unexpected.”

Tanis snorted. “You’re claiming this business with my son is all a plot of Her Dark Majesty’s?”

“Think about it, my friend,” Dalamar advised. “As perhaps you know, I have little love for Porthios. He cast me, in shame and humiliation, from my homeland. On his orders, I was blindfolded, bound hand and foot, and hauled in a cart, like one of your human slaughter animals, to the borders of Silvanesti. There, with his own hands, he threw me into the mud. I would not weep to see the same happen to him.

“But even I admit that Porthios is an effective leader. He is courageous, swift to action. He is also rigid and inflexible and proud. But these flaws have, over the years, been tempered by the virtues of his wife.

Dalamar’s voice softened. “Alhana Starbreeze. I saw her often in Silvanesti. I was of low caste, she—a princess. I could view her only from a distance, but that didn’t matter. I was a little bit in love with her.”

“What man isn’t?” Tanis growled. He made an impatient gesture. “Get on with whatever point it is you’re making.”

“My point is this—the treaty of the Unified Nations of the Three Races.”

Tanis shook his head, apparently mystified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then let me enlighten you. An alliance of the elven kingdoms of Qualinesti and Silvanesti with the human kingdoms of Solamnia, Southern and Northern Ergoth, and the dwarven kingdom of Thorbardin. For nearly five years you and Laurana have worked to bring this about—ever since your clandestine visit to Storm’s Keep. Porthios, urged on by Alhana, has finally agreed to sign. It would have been a powerful alliance.”

Dalamar lifted his delicate hand, snapped his fingers. A spark of blue flame flared around the white skin; a puff of smoke wafted in the air, wavered a moment, then drifted away.

“Gone.”

Tanis regarded him grimly. “How did you find out?

“Ask, rather, my friend, how did Senator Rashas find out?”

Tanis was silent, then he began to swear softly beneath his breath.

“Rashas told you he knew? He betrayed his own people? I can’t believe that, not even of Rashas.”

“No, the senator still has some smattering of honor left in him. He is not a traitor—not yet. He gave me some lame excuse, but I think the truth is fairly obvious. When were the final papers to have been signed?”

“Next week,” Tanis said bitterly, staring into the flickering flames.

“Ah, there.” Dalamar shrugged again. “You see?”

Tanis did see. He saw the Dark Queen, whispering her words of seduction into elven ears. Senator Rashas would be shocked to the core of his being at the suggestion that he was being seduced by evil. In his mind, he was acting only for good—the good of the elves, keeping them safe, isolated, insulated.

All the hard work, all the endless hours of traveling back and forth, all the hard-fought negotiations: convincing the knights to trust the elves, convincing the dwarves to trust the Ergothians, convincing the elves to trust anybody. All gone in a puff of smoke.

And Lord Ariakan and his dread Knights of Takhisis growing stronger by the hour.

This was a terrible blow to their hopes for peace, yet, at the moment, all Tanis could think of was his boy. Is Gilthas safe? Is he well? Does he know what Rashas plots? What will he do if he finds out?

Hopefully, nothing. Nothing rash, nothing foolish. Nothing to put himself—or others—into danger. Gil had never been in any sort of danger or difficulty before now. His father and mother had seen to that. He wouldn’t know how to react.

“We always protected him,” Tanis said, not realizing he was talking aloud. “Maybe we were wrong. But he was so sick, so fragile.... How could we do otherwise?”

“We raise our children to leave us, Tanis,” Dalamar said quietly.

Startled, Tanis looked at the dark elf. “Caramon said that.”

“Yes, he said it to me, after Palin had taken his test. 'Our children are given to us for only a short time. During that time, we must teach them to live on their own, because we won’t always be around.' ”

“Wise words.” Recalling his friend, Tanis smiled fondly, sadly. “But Caramon wasn’t able to follow his dictum, not when it came to his own son.”

He was silent a moment, then said quietly, “Why are you telling me all this, Dalamar? What’s in it for you?”

“Her Dark Majesty has a very high regard for you, Tanis Half-Elven. Neither she nor I consider it conducive to our cause to have your son on the elven throne. I think we would do far better with Porthios,” Dalamar added dryly.

“What about the treaty?”

“That victory is already ours, my friend. No matter what happens among the elves, the treaty is so much scrap paper. Porthios will never forgive the Silvanesti for betraying him. He won’t sign now. You know it. And if the two elven nations refuse to sign, the dwarves of Thorbardin will refuse to sign. And if the dwarves—”

“Hang the dwarves!” Tanis said impatiently. “Does this mean you’ll help me bring Gilthas home?”

“Your son’s coronation is planned for tomorrow,” Dalamar said, raising his wineglass to Tanis in a mocking salute. “It is a solemn occasion, one no father should miss."

Twilight enhanced the beauty of the elven land. The soft, glowing colors of the setting sun shone through the silken curtains, burnished every object in the room with gold. Its beauty was wasted on Gil. Nervously, he paced away the hours.

The house was still. The Kagonesti guards hardly ever spoke, and when they did, it was only briefly and in their own language—a language that sounded like the calls of wild birds. The guards brought in dinner: bowls of fruit and bread, wine and water. Then, after a swift searching glance around the room, they left, shutting the door behind them. Alhana could eat nothing.

“This food tastes like ashes,” she said.

Despite his trouble, Gilthas was hungry. He ate not only his meal, but—when he saw she wasn’t going to eat—hers as well.

Alhana smiled faintly. “The resiliency of youth. It is good to see. You are the future of our race.” She pressed her hand against her abdomen. “You give me hope.”

Night was forbidden to truly settle over Qualinesti. The darkness was lit by thousands of tiny sparkling lights, shining in the trees. Alhana lay down, closed her eyes, and tried to find some rest before the evening’s long and possibly dangerous journey.