The Second Generation

Steel untied a leather thong and shook out a quantity of dark hair. Both the hidden watchers recognized those darkcurls. Kitiara had worn her hair short; her son wore it long, tumbling over his broad shoulders. As he stepped over to the fire and held his hands out to the blaze, the flames lit his face.... His face ...

Caramon gave a great, wheezing gasp.

“What was that noise?” Steel glanced around sharply.

Caramon clapped his hand over his mouth and moved away from the curtain. Tanis, hardly daring to breathe, held perfectly still.

“It’s the wind, rattling that broken window,” Sara re sponded.

“I fixed it the last time I was here,” Steel said, frowning. He took a step toward the curtain.

“Well, the latch is loose again,” Sara said. “Come, eat your dinner before it gets cold. You can’t do anything to mend the latch while this storm lasts.”

Steel cast a last glance at the curtained room, then turned and walked back to the fireplace. Shifting his position slightly, Tanis could continue to see what was happening.

Steel took a bowl and ladled out broth and meat. A puzzled look crossed his face. He sniffed at the bowl.

Tanis shook his head and gestured toward the living room, warning Caramon to make himself ready. The two of them, catching the younger man off guard, might stand a chance.

Lifting a spoon, Steel tasted the broth, grimaced, and tossed the bowl’s contents back into the pot.

Sara, stricken, stared at him. “What—what's the matter?”

“ 'Eat it before it gets cold,' ” Steel repeated. He was fondly teasing, mimicking her voice. “Mother, I’d have to set that stew out in the storm for it to get much colder. It’s not cooked yet!”

“I... I’m sorry, dear.”

Sara was limp with relief, and so was Tanis. But he was worried about her.

She was trembling, her face ashen. Steel couldn’t help but notice.

“What is it, Mother?” he asked, once again serious. “What’s wrong? I heard you were out this night What were you doing?”

“I . . . I was ferrying a couple of spies . . . from the continent—”

“The continent!” Steel’s dark brows came together in a frown. “Spies! This is not safe, Mother. You take too great a risk. I’ll speak to Lord Ariakan—”

“If s all right, Steel,” Sara said, regaining her composure. “He didn’t send me. I took the task upon myself. It was either that or let some stranger ride Flare. I couldn’t permit that. You know how temperamental she can be.”

Turning her back on the young man, Sara picked up the poker and stirred the fire.

Steel watched her, his countenance dark and thoughtful. “I find this talk of ferrying spies odd, Mother. I didn’t think you were that committed to our cause.”

Sara paused in her work. “It’s not the cause, Steel,” she said in a low voice, her eyes on the flames. “You know that well. I do this for you.”

Steel’s lip curled. His expression was suddenly hard and cold. Tanis, watching, knew that look. So did Caramon. The big man tensed to jump.

“You ferry spies for me, Mother?” Steel’s tone was mocking, suspicious.

Flinging the poker down on the stones, Sara stood up and faced her son.

“Someday, Steel, you will ride to war. Whether I approve or not, I will do my part to keep you safe.” She clasped her hands. “Oh, my son! Reconsider! Do not take these vows! Do not give up your soul—”

The young man was exasperated. “We’ve gone over this before, Mother—”

Sara flung herself at him, caught hold of him. “You don’t mean it, Steel! I know you don’t! You can’t give your soul to Her Dark Majesty....”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mother.” Steel returned. He wrenched himself loose from his mother’s grip.

“Yes, you do. You have doubts.” Her voice dropped low, and she glanced somewhat nervously out the window into the rain-lashed dawn. “I know you do. That’s why you’ve waited this long to take the vows. Don’t let Ariakan pressure you—”

“The decision is mine, Mother!” Steel’s voice had a knife’s edge. “War is coming, as you say. Do you think I want to go into battle on foot, leading a party of hobgoblins, while men with half my ability fight on dragons, attain honor and glory? I will take the vows, and I will serve the Dark Queen to the best of my ability. As for my soul, it is my own. And it will stay that way. It belongs to no man, to no goddess.”

“Not yet,” Sara said.

Steel did not respond. Thrusting her aside, he stalked across the room, stood staring into the stew pot.

“Is that edible yet? I’m starving.”

“Yes,” said Sara, with a sigh, “it is hot. Sit down.”

At her sorrowful tone, he looked around, grudgingly remorseful. “You sit down, Mother. You look exhausted.”

Respectful, attentive, he led Sara to a chair and held it for her. Sara sank into the chair, then gazed at him with wistful eyes. The young man obviously found her silent pleading disturbing. He turned from her abruptly.

Ladling out two bowls of soup, he placed one in front of each of them.

Sara stared at hers.

Steel began to eat his with a healthy appetite. Tanis let out a relieved breath and heard Caramon do the same. How long would it take the potion to act?