The Second Generation

The guard jumped, turned around, and peered into a grove of aspen trees growing in back of the large house.

Cloaked in magic, Dalamar was standing practically in front of the porch, but his voice had come from the grove.

“Hurry, you slug!” Dalamar called again, adding a favorite Kagonesti insult.

The guard left his post, ran toward the aspen grove.

“One of Raistlin’s old illusionist tricks. I learned much from my shalafi,” Dalamar said, and he glided silently inside the house.

Mystified, unable to imagine what the dark elf was after, Tanis followed.

In the entryway, a Kagonesti woman was busily scrubbing at a large stain on one of the elegant carpets. Dalamar pointed to the stain, drawing Tanis’s attention to it.

The stain was fresh; the water in the servant’s bucket, the rag in her hand, were crimson.

Blood. Tanis’s lips formed the word, he did not speak it aloud.

Dalamar did not reply. He was standing at the foot of a flight of stairs, peering upward. He began to climb, motioned to Tanis to accompany him. The servant, unaware of their presence, continued at her task.

Tanis kept his hand on his sword. He was not particularly good at fighting left-handed, but he would at least have the advantage of surprise. No enemy would see him coming.

They crept up the stairs, walking cautiously, testing each board before setting foot upon it. The house was deathly silent; a single creaking board would give them away. The steps proved sturdy and solid, however.

“Only the finest for Senator Rashas,” Tanis muttered, and he began to climb more rapidly. He was now beginning to have an idea of why they had come.

the top of the stairs, Dalamar held up a warding hand. Tanis halted. A door stood open, revealing a spacious hallway. Three doors opened off the hall, one door at the far end and two on each side. Only a single door-the one at the far end-was guarded. Two Kagonesti, holding spears, stood in front of it.

Tanis glanced at Dalamar.

“You take the man on the left,” said the dark elf. “I’ll take the right. Make your attack swift and silent. There are probably more guards inside the room.”

Tanis considered using his sword, then decided against it. Positioning himself directly in front of the oblivious Kagonesti, Tanis clenched his fist, aimed a swift, sharp jab to the jaw. The Wilder elf never knew what hit him.

Tanis caught the stunned guard as he fell and lowered him silently to the floor. Glancing over, he saw the other Kagonesti asleep on the floor, a scattering of sand over his inert body.

Tanis put his hand on the door handle. Dalamar’s thin fingers closed over the half-elf’s wrist.

“If what I think is true,” Dalamar whispered into Tanis’s ear, “any move to open that door could be fatal. Not to us,” he added, noting Tanis’s look of astonishment. “To the person inside. We will return to the corridors of magic.”

Tanis scowled and shook his head. Walking those “corridors” left him feeling disoriented and slightly nauseous. Dalamar smiled in understanding.

“Close your eyes,” the dark elf advised. “It helps.”

Keeping fast hold of Tanis’s wrist, Dalamar spoke quick words.

Almost before Tanis had his eyes shut, he felt those same ringers dig into his arm, warning him to look around. Opening his eyes, he blinked in the bright light.

He was in a large sunlit arboretum. Seated on a couch near a window was a woman. Her wrists and ankles were bound together with silken cord.

She sat rigidly straight, regal and imperious, her cheeks flushed—not with fear, but with anger. Tanis recognized, with shock, Alhana Starbreeze.

Directly opposite Alhana stood a Kagonesti guard, armed with bow and arrow. The bow was raised, one arrow nocked and ready to fire. The arrow was aimed at Alhana’s breast.

“And they exiled me!” Dalamar said quietly.

Tanis could say nothing. He could barely think coherently, much less speak. He guessed now what threat had been used to induce Porthios to give up the sun medallion—the same threat that had forced Gilthas to accept it.

Horror and outrage, shock and fury, and the dreadful memory of the terrible things he’d said to his son combined to overpower Tanis. He was as numb and useless as his arm. He could do nothing except stand staring in sick and unwilling disbelief.

Dalamar tugged on Tanis’s sleeve, gestured at the Kagonesti guard, who stood with his back to them. The dark elf made a motion with a clenched fist.

Tanis nodded to show he understood, though he wondered what Dalamar had in mind. At the first sound they made, the Kagonesti would fire. Even if they managed to kill him, his fingers might spasmodically unleash the arrow.

Alhana sat unmoving on the couch, staring at death with a disdain that seemed to invite it.