The Second Generation

Palin stared at him in confusion, his face flushed. The words the elf had spoken tumbled about in his mind, making little sense. He spoke some Elvish, learned from his father’s friend, Tanis. But, after all that had happened to him, the language went right out of his head. Frantically, he struggled to remember, for Dalamar was standing in front of him, looking at him, grinning.

“Quithain...” Palin repeated to himself. “Means . . . congratulations. >Congratulations, Magus...”

He gasped, staring at Dalamar in disbelief.

“What does it mean?” demanded Caramon, glaring at the dark elf. “I don’t understand—”

“He is one of us now, Caramon,” said Dalamar quietly, taking hold of Palin’s arm and escorting him past his father. “His trials are over. He has completed the Test.”

“We are sorry to have put you through this again, Caramon,” Dalamar said to the big warrior.

Seated opposite the ornately carved desk in the dark elf’s luxuriously appointed study, Caramon flushed, his brow still lined with the signs of his concern and fear and anger.

“But,” Dalamar continued, “it was fast becoming apparent to all of us that you would do your best to prevent your son from taking the Test.”

“Can you blame me?” Caramon asked harshly. Rising to his feet, he walked over to the large window and stared out into the dark shadows of the Shoikan Grove below him.

“No,” said Dalamar, “we could not blame you. And so we devised this way of tricking you into it.”

Scowling angrily, Caramon turned, jabbing his finger at Dalamar.

“You had no right! He’s too young! He might have died!”

“True,” said Dalamar softly, “but that is a risk we all face. It is a risk you take every time you send your older sons to battle..'..”

“This is different.” Caramon turned away, his face dark. Dalamar’s gaze went to Palin, who sat in a chair, a glass of untasted wine in his hand. The young mage was staring dazedly around as though he could still not believe what had occurred.

“Because of Raistlin?” Dalamar smiled. “Palin is truly gifted, Caramon, as gifted as his uncle. For him, as for Raistlin, there could have been only one choice—his magic. But Palin’s love for his family is strong. He would have made the choice, and it would have broken his heart.”

Caramon bowed his head, clasping his hands behind him. Palin, hearing a muffled choke behind him, set his wine glass down and, rising to his feet, walked over to stand beside his father.

Reaching out his hand, Caramon drew his son close. “Dalamar’s right,” the big man said huskily. “I only wanted what was best for you and—and I was afraid .. . afraid I might lose you to the magic as I lost him.... I—I’m sorry, Palin. Forgive me.”

Palin’s answer was to embrace his father, who wrapped both his great arms around the white-robed mage and hugged him tight.

“So you passed! I’m proud of you, Son!” Caramon whispered. “So proud—”

“Thank you, Father!” Palin said brokenly. “There is nothing to forgive. I understand at last—” The rest of the young mage’s words were squeezed from him by his father’s hug. Then, with a clap on the back, Caramon let his boy go and returned to staring out the window, frowning down at the Shoikan Grove.

Turning back to Dalamar, Palin looked at the dark elf, puzzled.

“The Test,” he said hesitantly. “It—it all seems so real! Yet, I’m here Raistlin didn’t kill me ...”

“Raistlin!” Caramon glanced around in alarm, his face pale.

“Be at ease, my friend,” Dalamar said, raising his slender hand. “The Test varies for each person who takes it, Palin. For some, it is very real and can have real and disastrous consequences. Your uncle, for example, barely survived an encounter with one of my kind. Justarius’s test left him crippled in one leg. But, for others, the Test is only in the mind.” Dalamar’s face grew tense, his voice quivered in remembered pain. “That, too, can have its effects, sometimes worse than the others ...”

“So—it was all in my mind. I didn’t go into the Abyss? My uncle wasn’t really there?”

“No, Palin,” Dalamar said, regaining his composure. “Raistlin is dead. We have no reason to believe otherwise, despite what we told you. We do not know for certain, of course, but we believe mat the vision your father described is a true one, given to him by Paladine to ease his grief. When we told you we had signs that Raistlin was still alive, that was all part of the ruse to bring you here. There have been no such signs. If Raistlin lives today, it is only in our legends ”

“And our memories,” Caramon muttered from the window.

“But he seemed so real!” Palin protested. He could feel the soft black velvet beneath his fingertips; the burning touch of the golden—skinned hands; the cool, smooth wood of the Staff of Magius. He could hear the whispering voice, see the golden, hourglass eyes, smell the rose petals, the spice, the blood....

Lowering his head, he shivered.