Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

The guard tightened his grip.

“He’ll break your arm, if I order him to,” Rashas said coldly. “Come, come, Prince.” Again, the sneer. “Stop wasting my time.”

Rashas led the way out of Gil’s room, up the stairs, back to the part of the house where Alhana Starbreeze was being is held prisoner. Before now, Gil had been too furious to think clearly. His anger was starling to be replaced by fear.

Senator Rashas was obviously insane.

No, he’s not, Gil realized with a sense of dread. If he were insane, no one would listen to him, no one would follow him. But he truly believes those terrible things he said about my parents. He truly believes that Alhana is a witch. He believes what he said last night about the treaty, about the elves becoming slaves of the humans. He’s got everything twisted around so that, in his mind, what is good is evil and what is evil is good!

How is this possible? I don’t understand ... And what can I do to stop him?

They reached Alhana’s chambers. The Kagonesti guards flung the door open at Rashas’s snarling command. He stalked into the room. The Kagonesti guard dragged Gil in after.

Pulling away from the Wilder elf, Gil made an attempt to recover his dignity. He glared defiantly at Rashas.

Alhana was on her feet, regarded him with calm disdain. “Well, why have you come here, Senator? Shouldn’t you be proceeding with the coronation?”

“The young man has proven obstinate, Lady Alhana.” Rashas was smooth, cool. “He refuses to take the vow. I thought perhaps you could persuade him that what he is doing is not in his best interests—or in yours.”

Alhana rewarded Gil with a warm and approving smile; a smile that eased his fear and filled him with renewed strength, renewed hope. “Quite the contrary. I think the young man has shown remarkable wisdom and courage for one of his years. Obviously, you misjudged him, Rashas. I would not dream of attempting to talk him out of this decision.”

“I believe you will change your mind, Lady Alhana,” Rashas said smoothly. “As will the young man.”

Rashas said a few words in Kagonesti. One of the Wilder elf guards put down his spear and removed a bow he wore slung over his shoulder.

Rashas gestured at Alhana. The Wilder elf nodded. He drew an arrow from his quiver and began to fit it to the bow.

Alhana was extremely pale, but not, apparently, from fear. She regarded the senator with a look that might almost have been pitying. “You are being seduced by darkness, Rashas. Stop this course of action before it destroys you!”

Rashas was amused. “I am not the one in league with the Dark Queen—as you, her servant, should know. I do all in my power to keep the shadows of her wickedness away from my people. Paladine’s holy light shines upon me!”

“No, Rashas,” Alhana said softly. “Paladine’s light illuminates. It does not blind.”

His face hard, expression scornful, Rashas turned from Alhana. The senator faced Gil, who was only now beginning to comprehend what was happening.

“You can’t do ... such a thing!” Gil gasped. He stared at Rashas in disbelief. “You can’t...”

The senator flung the yellow robes of the Speaker at him. “It is time you dressed for the ceremony, Prince."

The last time Tanis had been in the Tower of the Sun had been during the dark days just prior to the War of the Lance. Evil dragons had returned to Krynn. A new and terrible foe—the draconians—were joining with other servants of the Dark Queen to form immense armies under the captaincy of powerful Dragon Highlords. Victory against such mighty forces seemed impossible. In this tower, the elves of Qualinesti had come together for possibly the last time, to plan the exodus of their people from their beloved homeland.

Tiny flickering flames of hope had burned steadily through that dark night: Hope in the form of a blue crystal staff and a woman wise and strong enough to wield it; hope in the unlikely form of a merry kender who decided to help in “small ways"; hope in the form of a knight whose courage was a blazing beacon to those who cowered in fear beneath the Dark Queen’s dread wings.

Goldmoon, Tasslehoff, Sturm—they and the rest of the companions had been with Tanis in this room, in this tower. He sensed their presence with him now. Looking around the chamber of the Speaker of the Sun, he was cheered. All would be well. He glanced up into the dome, at the glittering tile mosaic, which portrayed the blue sky and the sun on one half; the silver moon, the red moon, and the stars on the other.

“Please the gods,” Tanis prayed softly. “I’ll take you home, my son, and we’ll start over. And this time things will be better. I promise.”

Dalamar, standing beside Tanis, was also gazing upward. The dark elf gave an amused chuckle. “I wonder if they know that the black moon is now visible on their ceiling?”

Shocked, Tanis stared. Then he shook his head. “If s only a hole. A few tiles have fallen out. That’s all.”

Dalamar gave him a sidelong glance. The dark elf smiled.

Tanis, uncomfortable, ceased to look at the mosaic.

The tower’s white marble walls glistened red in the dawn. The huge, round room in which they stood was currently empty, except for a rostrum, placed directly beneath the domed ceiling. People had not yet gathered; they would wait until the sun was completely over the horizon. Tanis and Dalamar had arrived early, traveling the corridors of magic—a brief, but nerve-jolting journey that left Tanis confused and disoriented.

they left the Tower of High Sorcery, Dalamar had given Tanis a ring carved from crystal-clear quartz.

“Wear this, my friend, and no one will be able to see you.”

“You mean I’ll be invisible?” Tanis asked, regarding the ring dubiously, not touching it.

Dalamar slid the ring on Tanis’s index finger.

“I mean no one will be able to see you,” the dark elf replied. “Except myself.”

Tanis didn’t understand, then decided that he didn’t particularly want to understand. Holding his hand awkwardly, not daring to touch the ring for fear of disrupting the spell, he wished impatiently for the ceremony to begin. The sooner started, the sooner over, and he and Gil would be safely home.

The bright sunlight shone through small windows cut into the tower, reflected off mirrors placed in the shining marble walls. The Heads of Household began to file into the chamber. Several walked over to stand directly in front of Tanis. He stiffened, waiting to be spotted. Elves walked very near him, but none paid any attention to him. Relaxing, Tanis glanced over at Dalamar.

He could see the dark elf, and the dark elf could see him, but no one else could. The magic was working.

Tanis searched the crowd.

Dalamar leaned near, spoke softly, “Is your son here?”

Tanis shook his head. He tried to tell himself all was well. It was early.

Gil would probably enter with the Thalas-Enthia.

“Remember the plan,” Dalamar added unnecessarily. Tanis had thought of nothing but the plan all during a long and sleepless night. “I must make physical contact with him in order to magically transport him. Which means we must reveal ourselves. He will be alarmed, may try to break away. It will be up to you to calm him. We must act quickly. If any elven White Robes should see us—”

“Stop worrying,” Tanis said impatiently. “I know what to do.”

The chamber filled rapidly. The elves were excited, tense. Rumors sprouted faster than weeds. Tanis heard the name Porthios pronounced several times, more in sorrow than in anger. Whenever Alhana’s name was spoken, however, it was generally accompanied with a curse. Porthios obviously was a victim of the seductive Silvanesti woman. The word “witch"