The Second Generation

“I expected Little Brother to complain,” Tanin remarked sourly, dismounting and glaring at Sturm over the pommel of his saddle. “He misses his white linen sheets and Mama tucking him in at night. But I expected better of you, Sturm Majere.”

“Oh, I’ve no objection,” Sturm said easily, sliding off his horse and beginning to untie his pack. “I was just making an observation. We don’t have much choice anyway,” he added, withdrawing a small leather pouch and shaking it. Where there should have been the ring of steel coins, there was only a dismal clunk. “No linen sheets tonight, Palin,” he said, grinning at his younger brother, who remained seated disconsolately upon his horse. “Think of tomorrow night, though—staying at Castle Uth Wistan, the guests of Lord Gunthar. Not only white linen but probably rose petals strewn about the bed as well.”

“I don’t expect white linen,” Palin returned, nettled. “In fact, bed sheets at all would be a pleasant change! And I’d prefer sleeping in a bed where the mattress wasn’t alive!” Irritably, he scratched himself under the white robes.

“A warrior must get used to such things,” Tanin said in his worldly-wise Elder Brother voice, which made Palin long to toss him in the horse trough.

“If you are attacked by nothing worse than bedbugs on your first quest, you may count yourself lucky.”

“Quest?” Palin muttered bitterly, sliding down off his horse.

“Accompanying you and Sturm to Castle Uth Wistan so that you can join the knighthood. This isn’t a quest! It’s been like a kender outing, and both you and Father knew it would be when you decided I could go! Why, the most danger we’ve been in since we left home was from that serving wench who tried to cut off Sturm’s ears with a butcher knife!”

“It was a mistake anyone could make,” Sturm muttered, flushing. “I keep telling you!—I intended to grab her mugs. She was what you might call a buxom girl and when she leaned over me holding the tray, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to what I was doing—”

“Oh, you were paying attention, all right!” Palin said grimly. “Even when she came at you with a knife, we had to drag you out of there! And your eyes were the size of your shield.”

“Well, at least I’m interested in such things,” Sturm said irritably. “Not like some people I could mention, who seem to think themselves too good—”

“I have high standards!” retorted Palin. “I don’t tumble for every 'buxom' blonde who jiggles in my direction—”

“Stop it, both of you!” Tanin ordered tiredly. “Sturm, take the horses around and see that they’re brushed down and fed. Palin, come with me.”

Palin and Sturm both looked rebellious, and Tanin’s tone grew stern.

“Remember what Father said.”

The brothers remembered. Sturm, still grumbling, grabbed the horses' reins in his hand and led them to the stables. Palin swallowed a barbed comment and followed his brother.

Although quick-tempered like his mother, Tanin appeared to have inherited few other qualities from his parents. Instead, he was in temperament more like the man in whose honor he had been named—his parents' dearest friend, Tanis Half-Elven. Tanin idolized his name—father and did his best to emulate his hero. Consequently, the twenty-four-year-old young man took his role as leader and eldest brother quite seriously. This was fine with one younger brother. The fun-loving Sturm was almost the epitome of his father, having inherited Caramon’s jovial, easygoing nature.

Disliking to take responsibility himself, Sturm generally obeyed Tanin without question. But Palin, just twenty-one, possessed the keen mind and intellect of his uncle, the powerful, tragic archmage Raistlin. Palin loved his brothers, but he chafed under what he considered Tanin’s overbearing leadership and was irritated beyond measure by Sturm’s less than serious outlook On life.

This was, however, Palin’s “first quest”—as Tanin never failed to remind him at least once an hour. A month had gone by since the young mage had taken the grueling Test in the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. He was now an accepted member of the order of wizards on Krynn. But somehow that didn’t satisfy him. He felt let down and depressed. For years, his greatest goal had been passing the Test, a goal that, once attained, would open countless doors.

It hadn’t opened one. Oh, admittedly Palin was a young mage. He had little power yet, being able to cast only minor spells. Ideally, he would apprentice himself to some skilled archmage, who would take over his tutelage. But no archmage had requested his services, and Palin was shrewd enough to know why.

His uncle, Raistlin, had been the greatest wizard ever to have lived. He had taken the Black Robes of evil and challenged the Queen of Darkness herself, intending to rule the world—an attempt that ended in his death.