The Second Generation

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"

was used by several elder elves standing near Tanis.

He stirred restlessly, found it difficult to contain himself. He would have given all his wealth to be able to bang their heads together, knock some sense into these hidebound old fools.

“Easy, my friend,” Dalamar warned softy, resting his hand on Tanis’s arm. “Do not give us away.”

Tanis set his jaw, tried to calm down. An argument erupted on the opposite side of the chamber. Several young elves—who had become Heads of Household on the untimely death of a parent—were in loud disagreement with their elders.

“The winds of change are blowing in the world, bringing new ideas, fresh thoughts. We elves should open our windows, air out our houses, rid ourselves of stale and stagnant ways,” one young woman was proclaiming.

Tanis silently applauded these young men and women, but was sorry to note that their numbers were few, their youthful voices easily shouted down.