The Second Generation

“Yes.” Tanis sighed. “Yes, I did, though there were times, like now, when I could have wrung his knightly neck.”

“Look at it this way, Half-Elven,” Steel said in a mocking tone, “you could take this as a sign from your god, the great Paladine. If Paladine wants me inside, he’ll see to it that I get in.”

“Very well, young man, I’ll take your challenge. I’ll trust in Paladine. Perhaps, as you say, this will be a sign. But”— Tanis held up a warning finger—“don’t say a word, no matter what I say. And don’t do anything to cause trouble.”

“I won’t,” Steel said, with ice-hard dignity and disdain. “My mother’s up in those hills with a blue dragon, remember? If anything happens to me, Lord Ariakan will take out his rage on her.”

Tanis was regarding the young man intently. “Yes, we loved him for it,” he said, beneath his breath.

Steel pretended he didn’t hear. Turning his face toward the High Clerist’s Tower, he climbed up out of the brush and stepped onto the causeway. He assumed his uncle and the half-elf would follow.

Tanis and Caramon flanked the dark paladin, one on each side of him, as they proceeded down the broad road leading to the tower’s main gate. Caramon had his hand on the hilt of his sword, a grim and threatening expression on his face. Tanis kept close watch on those who passed them, waiting tensely for the expression of loathing, shocked horror—the outcry that would bring down on them a squadron of knights.

Steel walked tall and proud, the cold and handsome face impassive. If he was at all nervous, he was keeping it to himself.

Few, however, spared them a glance. Most of those who traveled this road were absorbed with their own private worries and concerns. And who would notice three armed men in this bastion of armed men? The only ones who did take note of them were the pretty young women accompanying their knightly father to the tower. They smiled at the handsome young knight in admiration, did everything short of tumbling out of their carriage to attract Steel’s attention.

Tanis was extremely puzzled by this. Did the symbols of terror and death the dark paladin wore plainly on his person no longer have any effect on people? Had the Solamnians forgotten the dread power of the Dark Queen? Or were they just mindlessly, stupidly complacent?

Tanis, glancing at Steel, saw the young man’s lip curl in scorn. He was finding this amusing.

Tanis quickened his pace. There was still the main gate to pass.

The half-elf had thought up and then discarded several arguments for allowing a Knight of Takhisis to enter the stronghold of Paladine. He had at last been forced to admit to himself that there could be no logical argument. As a last resort, he would use his standing as a renowned hero and respected government official to bully his way inside.

Wishing that he was decked out in his full ceremonial regalia, instead of his worn, albeit comfortable, traveling clothes, Tanis put on his you’ll-do-what-I-say-and-like-it mask and strode up to the knights guarding the main gate.

Caramon and Steel came to a halt about a pace behind. Steel’s face was hard, his dark eyes opaque, head thrown back in defiance.

One of the knights on guard duty stepped forward to meet them. His gaze swept over them with mild and friendly curiosity.

“Your names, gentle sirs,” said the knight courteously. “And please state your business.”

“I am Tanis Half-Elven.” Tanis was so pent up, the words came out in an explosive bark, practically a shout. Forcing himself to calm down, he added in softer tones, “This is Caramon Majere ...”

“Tanis Half-Elven and the famous Caramon Majere!” The young knight was impressed. “I am honored to meet you, sirs.” In an undertone, he said to a cohort, “It’s Tanis Half-Elven. Run and fetch Sir Wilhelm.”

Probably the lord knight in charge of the gate.

“Please, there’s no need to make a fuss,” Tanis urged hastily, with what he hoped sounded like becoming modesty. “My friends and I are here on a pilgrimage to the Chamber of Paladine. We simply want to pay our respects, nothing more.”

The young knight’s face immediately assumed an expression of grave sympathy. “Yes, of course, my lord.” His gaze shifted from Caramon, who glowered and appeared ready to take on the fortress single-handedly, then the knight looked at Steel.

Tanis tensed. He could already picture it. The young guard’s astonishment changing to fury, the ringing trumpet call that would sound the alarm, bring down the portcullis, surround them with swords...

“I see you are a Knight of the Crown, sir, like myself,” the young knight was saying .. . and he was saying it to Steel! The Solamnic Knight touched his breastplate, on which was the symbol of the lowest of the ranks of the Knights of Solamnia. He gave Steel the knight’s salute on meeting a comrade, a lifting of the gloved hand to the helm. “I am Sir Reginald. You don’t look familiar, Sir Knight. Where did you take your training?”