Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation (54 page)

"I know, Son. I know," Tanis said, clasping his boy close. "I understand. Believe me, I understand it all now." Hands on Gil's shoulders, Tanis looked intently into his son's face. "I do understand." Gil's face darkened. "Is Queen Alhana safe? Rashas assured me that she was, but I made them bring me here to see for myself…"

"She is safe," Tanis said quietly. His gaze shifted to the White Robe, who stood to one side, her baleful gaze divided between her charge and the black-robed wizard hovering in the shadows.

"Samar is with the queen. He will guard her well, as you have reason to know, I believe."

"Samar!" Gil's face brightened. "You rescued him? I'm so glad! They were going to make me sign the order for his execution. I wouldn't have done it, Father. I don't know how"—the youthful face hardened—"but I wouldn't have." Tanis glanced at the White Robe. Dalamar could stop her from taking any action. But could he, at the same time, prevent the archers from shooting? They would, however, be reluctant to endanger the life of their new Speaker…

"Gil," Tanis spoke in Common, "you didn't take that vow of your own free will. You were coerced into making it. You could leave, now. Dalamar will help us…" Gilthas bowed his head. There was no doubt what answer he wanted to give. He looked up with a wistful smile. "I gave the wizardess my word, Father. When I found you here, I promised her I would return with her, if she would grant me permission to… to… tell you good-bye." His voice broke. He paused a moment, struggling, then continued quietly, "Father, I heard you once tell Lord Gunthar that, if it had been up to you, you would have never, of your own free will, fought in the War of the Lance. You were drawn into it by force of circumstance. And that was why it made you uneasy to hear people call you a hero. You did what you had to do—what any right-thinking person would do." Tanis sighed. Memories—mostly dark—came back to him. His grip on Gilthas tightened. Tanis knew that, in a moment, he would have to let his son go.

"Father," Gil said earnestly, "I'm not fooling myself. I know I won't be able to do much to change things. I know Rashas intends to use me for his own evil ends and, right now, I don't see any way of stopping him. But, do you remember what Uncle Tas said when he told the story about saving the gully dwarf from the red dragon? 'It's the small things that make the difference.' If I can manage, in small ways, to work against Rashas, Father…" We raise our children to leave us. Without even knowing it, Tanis had done so. He could see that now, could see it in the face of the boy—no, the man—standing in front of him. He supposed he should feel proud… and he did. But pride was a very small fire to warm his heart-numbing chill of loss.

The White Robe was clearly growing impatient. She removed from her belt a jeweled silver wand. Dalamar, seeing this, called out quietly, "Tanis, my friend, I am here, if you have need of my services."

Tanis embraced his son one last time. He took advantage of their closeness to whisper. "You are the Speaker now, Gilthas. Don't forget that. Don't let Rashas and his kind forget it. Keep fighting him. You won't fight alone. You saw the young elves who walked out of the meeting today? Win them to your side. They won't trust you at first. They'll think your Rashas's pawn. You'll have to convince them otherwise. It won't be easy. But I know you can succeed. I'm proud of you, my son. Proud of what you did this day."

"Thank you, Father."

A last embrace, a last look, a last brave smile. "Tell Mother… I love her," Gil said softly. He swallowed hard. Then, turning, he left his father—and went back to stand beside the White Robe. She spoke a word.

The two were gone.

Without a backward glance—Tanis couldn't have seen anything anyway, blinking away the tears that blinded him—he walked back across the border. But he held his head high, as would any proud father whose son has just been made ruler of a nation.

He'd keep his head high until night, until darkness. Until he was home. Until he had to tell Laurana that she might never see her beloved son again…

"So," said Dalamar, keeping in the shadows beneath the oak trees, "you couldn't talk Gilthas into coming back with you."

"I didn't try," Tanis returned, his voice harsh and grating. "He gave them his word of honor he'd go back."

Dalamar regarded his friend intently a moment. "He gave them his word."

The dark elf shook his head and sighed. "As I said before, the son of Tanis Half-Elven is the last person Takhisis wanted to see sitting on the elven throne. If it is any comfort, my friend, Her Dark Majesty did not mean things to turn out exactly as they did. She is extremely sorry that we failed." Tanis supposed that news should bring him some consolation.

Dalamar removed the cloth, the cushion, the wine, the bread, and the cheese with a wave and a word. He slid his hands into the sleeves of his black robes.

"Well, my friend, have you made a decision? What will you do?"

"What I have to do, I suppose," Tanis said bitterly. "I can't let Rashas murder Porthios. And, once Porthios is free, I've got to stop him from murdering Rashas and the rest of the Qualinesti—none of which looks very promising."

He walked out from beneath the oak trees and came to stand on the path that led back to Qualinesti.

He looked into the sunlit, quivering leaves of the aspen trees of his childhood home.

"There are so many things I meant to teach you, Gilthas," Tanis said softly, "so much I meant to tell you. So many things I meant to say…"

Dalamar rested his hand on Tanis's shoulder. "You may not have said the words aloud, my friend. But I think your son heard you."

Tanis turned away from Qualinesti, turned toward the path that led to darkness. He turned back to a house that, no matter how many people it held, would always be empty.

"Let's go," he said.

A prospect of birds
in the canceling winter,
first fables of prophets
and roses and swords,
Margaret believed in us all,
believed in our stories:
a patient astronomer
drawn by a gap in the sky
who knows from a thousand years' calculation
that the next star is coming
that all that remains
is the waiting and prayer
and the long tiring business
of notebook and telescope,
until the brightness
consumes the dark,
a brightness conceived
and cradled for centuries,
she can say
this is something
I have always expected
this is the harvest of years

And then when she speaks
the heavens remember
that she was the one
bearing money and flowers
and trips to the city,
incandescence of fireworks
when we gathered in dozens
on the summer nights
by the vanishing lake,
and most of all words
she brought us
arrayed like galaxies
into the forms of belief.

At home by the lake
she began the story,
building word after difficult word
until in the telling the world appeared,
until in the waters the stars came down,
and all of the planets
the heavens encircle—
Chislev and Zivilyn,
Raistlin and Caramon,
Palin and Tanin,
Raoul and the little one,
the trining moons
that herald the tides of her magic,
all in the choir of her memory,
where the voice of love
moved on the water
and sang in attendance
as the story rose out
of the lake and the midnight,
the attar of roses
on the farthest shore,
and the winter reverted
to incredible spring
as it always reverts,
and the snow and the spirits
went where they wish
in the lands of belief
as the story begins again.

[1]
Elvish for "master." Red-robed mages, being neutral in all things, may apprentice themselves to a master of any alignment good, neutral, or evil.

[2]
Customarily, among elves, a son takes the name of his father's house. But since Tanis Half Elven is of illegitimate birth and questionable bloodline, his son Gilthas was given the name of his mother's father's house, which is Solostaran.

[3]
It is a kender belief that the stork delivers babies to fortunate households by dropping the babies down the chimney. Certainly, this might almost be true, for kender women have a wonderfully easy time during pregnancy and delivery. Babies really do seem to appear by magic. Thus kender families tend to be quite large; a good thing, since the attrition rate among kender is high. Relatively few kender ever live to a ripe old age.

[4]
The Qualinesti consider the custom of body-painting barbaric and have been working to halt the practice among the Wilder elves, especially those who come to live and work in Qualinesti. The elder Kagonesti adhere rigidly to the old ways, but the younger elves—particularly those who want to remain in Qualinesti—have given up the custom. This has not pleased many of the Kagonesti, who have accused their cousins of attempting to lure their young away from them, perhaps even eradicate the Kagonesti race.