The Second Generation

Dalamar answered with a sidelong glance. “A high one, you may be certain. But don’t expect me to reveal my hand to you. For now, we are partners in this game.” He shrugged again. “What will it be, Tanis Half-Elven? In a snap of my fingers, we could be in your home. You will, of course, want to talk to your wife. Tell Laurana what has happened. She will need to accompany us. She will be most valuable in talking sense to that stiff-necked brother of hers.”

Home. Tanis sighed. He wanted very much to go home, to shut himself up in his fine house and ... do what? What was the point now? What was the use?

“When Alhana reaches Silvanesti,” Tanis said slowly, thinking this through to its bitter conclusion, “the Silvanesti elves will hear of the insult the Qualinesti offered their queen. That will mean bloodshed. Alhana won’t be able to stop it this time. Once, long ago, we elves fought among ourselves. You’re talking about starting another Kinslayer War.”

Dalamar shrugged, unconcerned. “You are behind the time, Tanis. The war has already started.”

Tanis saw the truth of this, saw it with the same vivid clarity he’d seen the vision of Gilthas. Only now, instead of Solinari illuminating the young man’s future, Tanis saw it lit by flame and lightning, saw it stained with blood.

The war would come ... and he would be pitted against his own son.

Tanis closed his eyes. He could see Gil’s face, so young, trying so desperately to be brave, wise....

“Father? Is that you?”

For a moment, Tanis thought the voice was in his mind, that the image of his son had conjured it into being. But the word was repeated, stronger, with a ragged edge of joy and longing.

“Father!”

Gilthas stood on the path, just inside the border of Qualinesti. The white-robed wizardess lurked jealously near him. She did not look pleased to see Tanis. She had obviously not expected to find him here. She laid a firm hand on Gilthas’s arm, appeared ready to whisk him away.

A rustle in the treetops was a warning, all the warning Tanis was likely to receive.

“Tanis!” Dalamar called. “Be careful!”

Tanis ignored him, ignored the White Robe, ignored the elves in the trees with their bows and arrows. He strode toward his son.

Gilthas jerked away from the wizardess’s grasp. She clasped hold of him again, more firmly this time.

An angry flush stained Gilthas’s face, but he swallowed hard. Tanis could see his son choke down his anger, could see—in Gilthas—himself.

Gilthas said something in a low, conciliatory voice.

The White Robe, still looking displeased, removed her hand and backed off. Tanis stepped across the border. Reaching out, he caught hold of his son in his arms.

“Father!” Gilthas said brokenly. “I thought you’d gone. I wanted to talk to you. They wouldn’t let me...”

“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 e xecution. 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.