The Second Generation

“I’m sorry,” Sara said, concerned. “I forgot how terrible this must be for you. I didn’t mean to upset you. I only meant to prove—”

“If s all right, my lady.” Caramon lifted his head. His face was haggard and drawn, but he was composed. “The memories are hard sometimes, especially coming... like this. But I believe you now, Sara Dunstan. I’m sorry I didn’t before. Only Kit or... or Raist... would have known that story.”

“There is no need to apologize.” Sara took a swallow of the tea and wrapped her chill hands around the mug to warm them. “Of course, Kitiara did not die. The old druidess couldn’t believe it. She said Kitiara must have made a pact with Takhisis. I often thought about that, later on, when I heard Kitiara was responsible for the deaths of so many. Did she promise the Dark Queen souls in exchange for her own? Was that why Takhisis let her go?”

“What a dreadful fancy!” Tika shivered.

“Not a fancy,” said Sara, subdued. “I’ve seen it done.”

She was silent for long moments. Caramon and Tika stared at her in horror.

They saw her now as they had seen her when she first entered—wearing the helm of evil, wearing the death lily as an ornament.

“The baby lived, you said,” Caramon stated abruptly, frowning. “I presume Kit left him behind.”

“Yes.” Sara resumed her tale. “Kitiara was soon strong enough to travel. But while she was recovering, she had taken a liking to the baby. He was a fine boy, alert and wellformed. 'I can’t keep him,' she said to me. 'Momentous things are about to happen. Armies are forming in the north. I mean to earn my fortune with my sword. Find him a good home. I’ll send money for his upbringing and, when he is old enough to go to war with me, I’ll come back for him.'”

“ 'What about your brothers?' I ventured to suggest.

“She turned on me in a rage. 'Forget I ever said I had kin! Forget all I told you. Especially forget what I said about the father!'

“I agreed. And then I asked her if I could keep the child.” Sara stared at the fire, her face flushed. “I was so lonely, you see. And I’d always wanted a baby of my own. It seemed to me that the gods—if there were gods—had answered my prayers.

“Kitiara was pleased with the idea. She had come to trust me, and I think she even liked me a little—as much as she could ever like any other woman. She promised to send me money, whenever she had any. I said I didn’t care about that. I could support myself and a child. And I promised her I would write her letters, telling her about the boy. She kissed the child, when she left, and then put him into my arms.

“What will you name him?” I asked.

“ 'Call him Steel,” she said. And she laughed when she said it—a kind of joke, considering the baby’s surname.”

“That would be 'Half-Elven,' ” Caramon muttered aside to Tika. “I don’t see much joke in that, except on poor Tanis. All these years.” He gave a gloomy shake of his head. “Never knowing.”

“Hush!” Tika whispered. “You can’t say that for sure.”

“What?” Sara overheard. “What are you saying?”

“Sorry, but I don’t get the joke,” said Caramon. “About the baby’s name. 'Half-Elven,' you see.”

“Half-Elven?” Sara was perplexed.

Blushing, extremely embarrassed, Caramon coughed and said, “Look, we all knew about Tanis and Kit, so you don’t have to hide it anymore—”

“Ah, you think the baby’s father was Tanis Half-Elven,” said Sara, suddenly understanding. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Are you sure?” Caramon was puzzled. “Of course, there could have been someone else—”

“Any man in trousers,” Tika muttered beneath her breath.

“But you said this baby was born four years before the war. Kit and Tanis were lovers. And that must have been just after she left Solace with—"

Caramon’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at Sara. “That’s not possible!” he growled. “Kit was lying. I don’t believe it.”

“What do you mean?” Tika demanded. “I don’t understand! Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t you remember back then—”

“Caramon, I was a little girl when you and Raistlin and the others left Solace. And no one of you ever talked about what happened during those five years.”

“It’s true we never spoke of those journeys,” said Caramon slowly, formulating his thoughts. “We went in search of the true gods, that was our goal. But, looking back on it, I realize now that we really went in search of ourselves. How can a man or woman describe that journey? And so, we’ve kept silent, kept the stories in our hearts, and let the legend-spinners, who are only after a steel piece, make up whatever fool tales they choose.”

He gazed long and sternly at Sara, who stared down at the mug of tea, grown cold in her hands.

“I admit I have no proof. That is,” she amended, “I have proof, but nothing I can produce at this moment.”

She raised her head defiantly. “You believed me up until now.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Caramon said heavily. He rose to his feet and walked over to stand by the fire.

“Would somebody tell me what’s going on? What’s the baby’s name?” Tika demanded, exasperated.