The Second Generation

“Don’t hesitate,” Raistlin instructed, reading the young man’s mind. “The way back is not difficult, not like coming through. Go ahead. I can stand on my own. I will follow....”

Palin stepped inside, feeling a slight sensation of dizziness and a momentary blindness, but it passed quickly. Looking around, he drew a deep breath of relief and thankfulness. He was standing in the laboratory once more. The portal was behind him, though he had no clear remembrance of how he walked through it, and beside the portal he saw his uncle. But Raistlin was not looking at him. His eyes were on the portal itself, a strange smile played on his thin lips.

“You are right! We must close it!” Palin said suddenly, thinking he knew his uncle’s mind. “The queen will come back info the world—”

Raising the staff, the young man stepped forward. A slender, golden-skinned hand closed over his arm. Its grip hurt; the touch burned him.

Catching his breath, biting his lip from the pain, Palin looked at his uncle in confusion.

“All in good time, my dear nephew,” whispered Raistlin, “all in good time...."

Chapter Nine

Raistlin drew the young man nearer, smiling slightly as Palin flinched, noting the look of pain in the green eyes. Still Raistlin held him, regarding him searchingly, studying the features, probing the depths of his soul.

“There is much of myself in you, young one,” Raistlin said, reaching up to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen across Palin’s pale face. “More of me than of your father. And he loves you best for that, doesn’t he? Oh, he is proud of your brothers”—Raistlin shrugged, as the young man started to protest—“but you he cherishes, protects....”

Flushing, Palin broke free of Raistlin’s grip. But he might have spared his energy. The archmage held him fast—with his eyes, not his hands.

“He’ll smother you!” Raistlin hissed. “Smother you as he did me! He will prevent you from taking the Test. You know that, don’t you?”

“He—he doesn’t understand,” Palin faltered. “He’s only trying to do what he thinks—”

“Don’t lie to me, Palin,” Raistlin said softly, placing his slender fingers on the young man’s lips. “Don’t lie to yourself. Speak the truth that is in your soul. I see it in you so clearly! The hatred, the jealousy! Use it, Palin! Use it to make you strong—as I did!”

The golden-skinned hand traced over the bones of Palin’s face—the firm, strong chin, the clenched jaw, the smooth, high cheekbones. Palin trembled at the touch, but more still at the expression in the burning, hourglass eyes. “You should have been mine! My son!” Raistlin murmured. “I would have raised you to power! What wonders I would have shown you, Palin. Upon the wings of magic we would have flown the world—cheered the winner of the fights for succession among the minotaurs, gone swimming with the sea elves, battled giants, watched the birth of a golden dragon. . . . All this could have been yours, should have been yours, Palin, if only they—”

A fit of coughing checked the archmage. Gasping, Raistlin staggered, clutching his chest. Catching hold of him in his strong arms, Palin led his uncle to a dusty, cushioned chair that stood near the portal. Beneath the dust he could discern dark splotches on the fabric—as though it had, long ago, been stained with blood. In his concern for his uncle, Palin thought little of it. Raistlin sank down into the chair, choking, coughing into a soft, white cloth that Palin drew from his own robes and handed to him. Then, leaning the staff carefully against the wall, the young man knelt beside his uncle.

“Is there something I can do? Something I can get for you? That herbal mixture you drank.” His glance went to the jars of herbs on a shelf. “If you tell me how to fix it—”

Raistlin shook his head. “In time ...” he whispered as the spasm eased. “In time, Palin.” He smiled wearily, his hand reaching out to rest on the young man’s head. “In time. I will teach you that... and so much more! How they have wasted your talent! What did they tell you, young one? Why did they bring you here?”

Palin bowed his head. The touch of those slender fingers excited him, yet he caught himself cringing, squirming beneath their burning caress. “I came—They said .. . you would try... to take...” He swallowed, unable to continued.

“Ah, yes. Of course. That is what those idiots would think. I would take your body as Fistandantilus tried to take mine. What fools! As if I would deprive the world of this young mind, of this power. The two of us ... There will be two of us, now. I make you my apprentice, Palin.” The burning fingers stroked the auburn hair.

Palin raised his face. “But,” he said in amazement, “I am of low rank. I haven’t taken the Test—”