The Second Generation

He woke with a start. He’d slept longer than usual, longer than he’d intended. But his sleep had not been restful, had left him feeling heavy-limbed, fuzzy-brained. He blinked. Looking up, he half expected to see Caramon. He saw Laurana. “Gil’s gone,” she said.

Tanis struggled to shake off the dream, the heaviness. “Gone?” he repeated stupidly. “Where?”

“I don’t know for certain, but I think—” Her voice broke. Wordlessly, she held out to Tanis a sheet of gold leaf paper. Rubbing his eyes, Tanis leveraged himself to a sitting position. Laurana slid onto the bed beside him and put her arm around his shoulder. He read the invitation. “Where did you find this?”

“In... in his room. I didn’t mean to snoop. It was just... He didn’t come down to breakfast. I thought he might be ill. I went to check.” Her head drooped, and tears slid down her cheeks. “His bed wasn’t slept in. His clothes are gone. And this... this... was on the floor... by the window...” She broke down. After a moment’s silent struggle, she regained control of herself. “I went to the stable. His horse is gone, too. The groom didn’t hear or see anything—”

“Old Hastings is deaf as a post. He wouldn’t have heard the Cataclysm. Caramon tried to warn me this would happen. I didn’t listen."

Tanis sighed. Subconsciously, he’d listened. That was what the dream meant. Let me sleep ...

“Everything’s going to be fine, dearest,” Tanis said cheerfully. Kissing his wife, he held her close. “Gil left this behind, knowing we’d find it. He wants us to come after him. He wants to be stopped. This is his rooster crow of independence, that’s all. I’ll find him at the Black Swan—exhausted, but too proud to admit it, pretending he’s going to ride on, secretly hoping I’ll argue him out of it.” “You won’t scold him ...” Laurana asked anxiously. “No, of course, not. We’ll have a man-to-man talk. It’s long coming. Maybe he and I will even spend the night away from home, ride back together in the morning.”

Tanis warmed to the idea. Now that he thought of it, he had never spent the day alone with his son. They would talk, really talk. Tanis would let Gil know that his father understood.

“This might actually prove to be good for the boy, my dear.” Tanis was up, out of bed, and dressing for travel. “Perhaps I should go, too....”

“No, Laurana,” Tanis said firmly. “This is between Gil and me.” He paused in his preparations. “You don’t really understand why he’s done this, do you?”

“No elven youth would do such a thing,” Laurana said softly, the tears shining in her eyes.

Tanis bent down, kissed her lustrous hair. He remembered a half-elven youth who had run away from his people, his home; a half-elven youth who had run away from her. He guessed that she must be remembering the same.

The hunger for change—the human curse. Or blessing.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll bring him back safely.” “If only he understood! We would sacrifice anything for him. . . ”

Laurana talked on, but Tanis wasn’t listening, not to her. He was listening to the voice of another woman, another mother.

What would you sacrifice for your own son—your wealth? Your honor? Your very life? These were Sara’s words—Sara, surrogate mother of Steel Brightblade.

Chilled, fearful, Tanis remembered the vision. He had not thought about it for years, had put it out of his mind. Once again he stood in the evil fortress of Lord Ariakan, Knight of Takhisis. Dark clouds parted; Solinari’s silver light shone through, giving Tanis a swift glimpse of danger and peril, swirling about his frail son like the driving rain. And then Solinari was swallowed by dark clouds. The vision was gone. And he had forgotten it.

Until now.

“What’s wrong?” Laurana was staring at him, frightened. How well she knew him! Too well...

“Nothing,” he said, forcing a reassuring smile. “I had a bad dream last night, that's all. I guess if s still affecting me. About the war. You know.”

Laurana knew. She had those dreams, too. And she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth, not because he didn’t love her or trust her or respect her, but simply because he couldn’t He had learned at an early age to keep his inner torments and hurts and fears well-hidden. To betray any weakness would give someone the advantage over him. She couldn’t blame him. She’d seen how he’d been raised. A half-human in elven society, he was permitted to live in Qualinesti out of charity and pity. But he had never been accepted. The elves had always let him know he was—and would ever be—an outsider.

“What about Rashas?” she asked, tactfully changing the subject.

“I’ll deal with Rashas,” Tanis said grimly. “I might have known he’d be behind this. Always plotting. I wonder why Porthios puts up with him.”

“Porthios has other worries, my dear. But now that Silvanesti is free of Lorac’s dream, Porthios can finally return home and deal with matters in his own land.”