“Of course, he’s a spy,” Sara snarled. “You’ve just unmasked one of my lord’s double agents! You may have jeopardized the entire mission! If Ariakan hears of this, he’ll have your tongue cut out!”
“Me no talk,” Glob returned sullenly. “Lord-man know that.”
“You’d talk fast enough if some white-robed mage got hold of you,” Sara predicted grimly.
Caramon had released his sword, but he stood large and threatening. Tanis flipped his cloak over his face and glowered balefully at the goblin.
The goblin’s face twisted in a scowl. He stared at Tanis with hatred. “I don’t care what you say. I go report this.”
“It’s your tongue,” said Sara, shrugging. “Remember what happened to Blosh. And if you don’t, go ask him. But don’t hold your breath, waiting for him to answer.”
The goblin flinched. The aforementioned tongue flicked nervously over its rotting yellow teeth. Then, with another glare at Tanis, the goblin ran off.
“This way,” said Sara.
Caramon and Tanis trudged after her. Both cast oblique glances at the goblin and saw the creature accost a tall man in black armor. The goblin, talking in a shrill voice, pointed at them. They all caught one word: elf.
“Keep walking,” Sara said. “Pretend you don’t notice.”
“I should have wrung the creature’s neck,” Caramon muttered, hand on his sword hilt.
“Nowhere to hide the body,” Sara said in cool, practical tones. “Someone would have found the wretch and there would have been the Abyss to pay. Discipline is strict here.”
“Ariakan’s whore …” The goblin’s voice carried clearly.
Sara’s lips tightened, but she managed a smile. “I don’t think we have much to worry about. Ah, there, see?”
“Speak of Mistress Sara with respect, toad!”
The knight struck the goblin across the face, sent the creature sprawling backward into the stable muck. Then the knight strode on about more pressing matters.
Sara continued walking.
“This business about us being spies. That was fast thinking,” said Tanis, at her shoulder. Caramon, glancing around watchfully, brought up the rear.
“Not really.” Sara shrugged. “I had already planned out my story, in case we were seen. Ariakan has been bringing his agents here, mostly to impress them, I think. A goblin made the mistake of blabbing that he recognized one. Ariakan had the creature’s tongue cut out. That gave me the idea.”
“Will the dragon say anything?”
“I’ve told the dragon the same story. Flare is loyal to me, anyway. Blues are. They’re not like reds.”
“That knight seemed to respect you …” Tanis began.
“Unusual—for a whore.” Sara finished his sentence for him.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“No, but it’s what you were thinking.” Sara walked on in bitter silence, her eyes blinking against the rain and spray that lashed her face.
“I’m sorry, Sara,” Tanis said, resting his hand on her arm. “Truly.”
She sighed. “No, I’m the one to apologize. You spoke only the truth.” Lifting her head proudly, she turned to face him. “I am what I am. I’m not ashamed. I would do it again. What would you sacrifice for your own son—your wealth? Your honor? Your very life?”
Clouds scudded across the night sky and, suddenly, for one instant, Solinari, the silver moon, was free of them. Its bright light shone down on Storm’s Keep, and for a strange instant, Tanis saw the future illuminated for him, as if Sara’s words had opened a door of a moonlit room. He had only a swift glimpse of danger and peril, swirling about his frail son like the driving rain, and then clouds blew back across Solinari, hiding it from sight, blotting out its silver light. The door shut, leaving Tanis disturbed and frightened.
“Ariakan didn’t mistreat me,” Sara was saying somewhat defensively, mistaking the half-elf’s shaken silence for the silence of disapproval. “It was always understood between us that he would use me for his pleasure, nothing more. He will not take a wife, not now. He is over forty, married to war.
“ ‘All true knights should have only one true love,’ he says. ‘And that true love is battle.’ He considers himself a father to the young paladins. He teaches them discipline and respect for their fellow knights, respect for their enemies. He teaches them honor and self-sacrifice. Such things, he deems, are the secrets of the Solamnic Knights’ victory.
“ ‘The knights did not defeat us,’ Ariakan tells the young men. ‘We defeated ourselves, by selfishly pursuing our own petty ambitions and conquests instead of banding together to serve our great queen.’ ”
“ ‘Evil turns upon itself,’ ” quoted Tanis, trying to banish the terror that haunted him, the afterimage of the startling vision of his son.
“Once it did,” said Sara, “but no more. These knights have been raised together from childhood. They are a close-knit family. Every young paladin here would willingly sacrifice his life to save his brother … or to further the Dark Queen’s ambitions.”
Tanis shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Sara. It is the nature of evil to be selfish, to look out for oneself to the detriment of others. If this were not so …” He faltered, fell silent.
“Yes,” Sara urged him to continue. “What if it were not so?”
“If evil men were to act out of what they perceive to be noble cause and purpose, if they were willing to sacrifice themselves for such causes …” Tanis looked grave. “Then, yes, I think the world might well be in trouble.”
He drew his cloak more closely about him. The chill, damp air made him shiver. “But that just isn’t the way things work, thank the gods.”
“Reserve your judgment and your thanks,” Sara said in a soft, trembling voice. “You haven’t yet met Sturm’s son.”
Chapter Seven
Why Have You Never Asked?
Sara’s house was a two-room dwelling, one of a number huddled against the outside walls of the fortress, as if the house itself was frightened of the crashing waves beating on the rocks and sought the protection of stolid walls. Tanis could hear the boom of the waves, crashing with monotonous regularity less than a mile away from where they stood. Salt spray blew against their cheeks, left brine on their lips.
“Hurry,” Sara said, unlocking the door. “Steel will be off duty soon.”
She hustled them inside. The house was small, but snugly built, warm and dry. Furnishings were sparse. An iron pot hung in a large stone fireplace. A table and two chairs stood near the fire. Behind a curtain, in another room, was a bed and a large wooden chest.
“Steel lives in the barracks with the other knights,” Sara said, bustling about, hastily throwing meat and a few vegetables into the pot, while Caramon stirred up the fire. “But he is permitted to eat his meals with me.”
Tanis, lost in his own gloomy reflections, still haunted by that vision of his son, said nothing.
Sara poured water in the pot. Caramon had a roaring blaze going beneath it.
“You two hide back there, behind the curtain,” Sara instructed, pushing them toward the bedroom. “I don’t need to warn you to keep quiet. Fortunately, the wind and the waves generally make enough noise that it’s sometimes hard to hear ourselves talk.”
“What’s your plan?” Tanis asked.
In answer, Sara removed a small vial from her pocket, held it up for him to see. “Sleeping potion,” she whispered.
Tanis nodded in understanding. He was about to say something more, but Sara shook her head warningly and drew the curtains shut with a snap. The two men, left in semi-darkness, backed up against a wall and stood opposite each other. In case the young man happened to thrust the curtain aside, all he would see at first glance was an empty room.
Caramon discovered a tear in the fabric, which permitted him to see what was going on. Tanis found his own peephole. Both looked and listened in wary, tense silence.
Sara stood near the pot. She
held the vial—unstoppered—in her hand.
But she didn’t pour it.
Her face was pale. She bit her lip. Her hand shook.
Tanis cast a look of alarm at Caramon.
She’s not going to go through with it! the half-elf’s eyes conveyed warningly.
Caramon’s hand closed over his sword hilt. The two braced themselves, though neither had any very clear idea what they would do if she didn’t.
Suddenly, with a mutter that might have been a prayer, Sara poured the contents of the vial into the stew pot.
A thundering knock sounded on the door. She poured the vial into the heart of the blaze and wiped her hand hastily across her eyes.
“Come in,” she called.
Grabbing a broom, she began to sweep up water and mud that had been tracked across the floor.
The door opened. A young man entered. Caramon nearly fell through the curtain in an attempt to see. Tanis waved at the big man, urged him back, but the half-elf himself had his eye plastered to the hole.
The young man had his back to them. Taking off his wet cloak, he unbuckled his sword belt from around his waist. He leaned the sword, sheathed in its black scabbard—decorated with an axe, a skull, and the black lily—against the wall. He took off his breastplate, then removed his helm with a quick, impatient gesture that made Tanis’s heart constrict with painful memories. He’d seen Kitiara remove her helm with that very gesture.
Leaning over Sara, the young man kissed her cheek and placed a hand on her shoulder. “How are you, Mother? You don’t look well. Have you been ill?”
Sara had trouble answering. She shook her head. “No, just busy. I’ll tell you later. You’re wet to the bone, Steel. Go warm yourself. You’ll catch your death.”
Steel untied a leather thong and shook out a quantity of dark hair. Both the hidden watchers recognized those dark curls. 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 responded.
“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—”
“It’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?
“You’re not eating,” Steel observed.
Sara was watching him. Her hands, beneath the table, were curled into fists in her lap. “Steel,” she said, in a strange voice, “why have you never asked me about your father?”
The young man shrugged. “Perhaps because I doubted that you would be able to give me an answer.”
“Your mother told me who he was.”
Steel grinned—a crooked grin that brought back such vivid, painful memories, Tanis was forced to shut his eyes.
“Kitiara told you what she thought you wanted to hear, Mother. It’s all right. Ariakan has told me all about Kitiara. He told me about my father, as well,” Steel added offhandedly.
“He did?” Sara was astonished. The hands in her lap ceased to move.
“Well, not his name.” Steel ate more stew. “But everything else about him.”
Damn, this is a slow-acting potion! Tanis thought.
&
nbsp; “Ariakan said my father was a valiant warrior,” Steel continued, “a noble man who died courageously, gave his life for the cause he believed in. But Ariakan warned me that I must never try to learn my father’s identity. ‘It carries with it a curse, that will fall on you, if you come to know the truth.’ An odd thing to say, but you know what a romantic Ariakan is.…”
The spoon fell from Steel’s nerveless fingers. “What the—” Blinking, he put his hand to his forehead. “I feel so strange …”
Suddenly, his eyes focused. He drew in a breath. He tried to stand, but swayed on his feet “What … have you done? … Traitor! No, I won’t let—”
Lurching forward, he reached out a shaking hand, then fell across the table, sending the bowls flying. He made one last, feeble effort to rise, then collapsed there, unconscious.
“Steel!” Sara bent over him and brushed back the dark, curly hair from the handsome, stern face. “Oh, my son …”
Tanis hurried from behind the curtain, Caramon on his heels.
“He’s out cold and will be for some time by the looks of it. Well, Caramon, what do you think?” Tanis studied the young man’s features.
“He’s Kit’s son, there’s no doubt about that.”
“Yes, you’re right there,” Tanis said quietly. “The father?”
“I don’t know.” Caramon’s face wrinkled in intense concentration. “It could be Sturm. When I first set eyes on him, I almost thought it was Sturm. I … I was fairly taken aback! But, then, after that, all I saw was Kit.” The big man shook his head. “At least there’s no elf blood in him, Tanis.”
Tanis had never truly suspected as much. And so he was surprised to find himself relieved … and some part of him disappointed.
“No, he is not my son, that much is certain,” Tanis said aloud to Caramon. “I didn’t think it likely anyway. Ariakan might have taken the boy if he had elven blood—there are dark elves, after all—but I doubt it. Does Ariakan know the truth, do you think?” Tanis looked at Sara questioningly.
“He might. That would be one reason he’s never told Steel his father’s name, warned him not to ask, added some old wives’ tale about the curse.”
The Second Generation Page 6