The Second Generation

by Margaret Weis

  “For once, you’ve made sense, dwarf. We better find this Gargath before he finds us. Come on.” Tanin took a step toward a door at the end of the perfumed, candlelit chamber, but the dark-haired beauty caught hold of his arm.

  “Relax, warrior,” she whispered. “You don’t need to worry about Lord Gargath. He won’t bother you or anybody.” She ran her fingers admiringly through Tanin’s thick red curls.

  “I’ll see for myself,” Tanin returned, but he sounded less enthusiastic.

  “Very well, if you must.” The woman sighed languorously, nestling her body against Tanin’s. “But it’s a waste of time—time that could be spent in much more pleasant pursuits. The dried up old wizard’s been our prisoner now for two years.”

  “He’s your prisoner?” Tanin gaped.

  “Well, yes,” said the blonde, looking up from nibbling at Sturm’s ear. “He was such a boring old thing. Talking about pentagrams and wanting to know which of us were virgins and asking a lot of other personal questions. So we locked him in his old tower with his stupid rock.” She kissed Sturm’s muscular shoulder.

  “Then who’s been taking the women hostage all these months?” Palin demanded.

  “Well, we did, of course,” said the dark-haired beauty.

  “You?” Palin said, stunned. He put his hand to his forehead and noticed his skin felt abnormally hot. He was dizzy, and his head ached. The room and everything in it seemed to be just slightly out of focus.

  “This is a wonderful life!” said the blonde, sitting back and teasingly rebuffing Sturm’s attempts to pull her down. “The Graygem provides all we need. We live in luxury. There is no work, no cooking and mending—”

  “No children screaming—”

  “No husbands coming back from battle, bleeding and dirty—”

  “No washing clothes in the stream day after day—” “No endless talks of war and bragging about great deeds—”

  “We read books,” said the dark-haired beauty. “The wizard has many in his library. We became educated, and we found out we didn’t have to live that kind of life anymore. We wanted our sisters and our mothers to share our comfortable surroundings with us, so we kept up the ruse, demanding that hostages be brought to the castle until all of us were here.”

  “Bless my beard!” exclaimed the dwarf in awe.

  “All we lack are some nice men, to keep us from being lonely at night,” said the blonde, smiling at Sturm. “And now that’s been taken care of, thanks to the Graygem.…”

  “I’m going to go find Lord Gargath,” said Palin, standing up abruptly. But he was so dizzy that he staggered, scattering cushions over the floor. “Are the rest of you coming?” he asked, fighting this strange weakness and wondering why his brothers didn’t seem afflicted.

  “Yes,” said Tanin, extricating himself with difficulty from the dark-haired beauty’s embrace.

  “Count on me, lad,” said Dougan grimly.

  “Sturm?” said Palin.

  “Just leave me here,” said Sturm. “I’ll act as … rear guard.…”

  The women broke into laughter.

  “Sturm!” Tanin repeated angrily.

  Sturm waved his hand. “Go ahead, if you’re so keen on talking to some moldy old wizard, when you could be here, enjoying …”

  Tanin opened his mouth again, his brows coming together in anger. But Palin stopped him. “Leave this to me,” the young mage said with a twisted smile. Setting the staff down carefully among the cushions, Palin lifted both hands and held them out, pointing at Sturm. Then he began to chant.

  “Hey! What are you doing? Stop!” Sturm gasped.

  But Palin continued chanting and began raising his hands. As he did so, Sturm’s prone body rose into the air, too, until soon the young man was floating a good six feet off the floor.

  “Wonderful trick! Show us some more!” called out the women, applauding.

  Palin spoke again, snapped his fingers, and ropes appeared out of nowhere, snaking up from the floor to wrap themselves around Sturm’s arms and legs. The women squealed in glee, many of them transferring their admiring gazes from the muscular Sturm—now bound hand and foot—to the mage who could perform such feats.

  “G-good trick, Palin. Now put me down!” Sturm said, licking his lips and glancing beneath him nervously. There was nothing between him and the floor but air.

  Pleased with himself, Palin left Sturm in the air and turned to Tanin. “Shall I bring him along?” he asked casually, expecting to see Tanin also regarding tim with awe.

  Instead, Palin found his older brother’s brows furrowed in concern. “Palin,” said Tanin in a low voice, “how did you do that?”

  “Magic, my dear brother,” Palin said, thinking suddenly how unaccountably stupid Tanin was.

  “I know it was magic,” Tanin said sharply. “And I admit I don’t know much about magic. But I do know that only a powerful wizard could perform such a feat as that. Not one who just recently passed his test!”

  Looking back at the levitated Sturm hovering helplessly in the air, Palin nodded. “You’re right,” he said proudly. “I performed a very advanced spell, without any assistance or aid! Not even the Staff of Magius helped me!” Reaching out, he took hold of the staff. The wood was cold to the touch, icy cold, almost painful. Palin gasped, almost dropping it. But then he noticed that the dizziness was easing. He felt his skin grow cool; the buzzing in his head diminished. “My magic!” he murmured. “The Graygem must be enhancing it! I’ve only been here a short while, and look what I can do! I have the power of an archmage. If I had the gem, I’d be as strong as my uncle! Maybe stronger!” His eyes glistened; his body began to tremble. “I’d use my power for good, of course. I would seize the tower at Palanthas from Dalamar and cleanse it of its evil. I would lift the curse from the Shoikan Grove, enter my uncle’s laboratory.” Thoughts and visions of the future came to him in a swirl of wild colors, so real and vivid he literally reeled at the sight.

  Strong hands held him. Blinking, clearing the mist from his eyes, Palin looked down to see himself reflected in the bright, dark, cunning eyes of the dwarf. “Steady, laddie,” said Dougan, “you’re flying high, too high for one whose wings have just sprouted.”

  “Leave me alone!” Palin cried, pulling away from the dwarf’s grip. “You want the gem yourself!”

  “Aye, laddie,” said Dougan softly, stroking his black beard. “And I have a right to it. I’m the only one who has a right to it, in fact!”

  “Might makes right, dwarf,” Palin said with a sneer. Picking up his staff, he started to walk toward the door. “Coming?” he asked Tanin coldly, “or must I bring you along as I’m carrying that great oaf!” Gesturing toward Sturm, he drew the young man toward him with a motion of his hand. Twisting his head, Sturm gazed back at Tanin in fear and alarm as he drifted through the air.

  “Oh, no! Don’t leave! Do some more tricks!” cried the women in dismay.

  “Stop, young mage!” Dougan cried. “You’re falling under the spell!”

  “Palin!” Tanin’s quiet voice cut through the buzzing in Palin’s head and the laughter of the women and the shouts of the dwarf. “Don’t listen to Dougan or me or anyone for a moment. Just listen to yourself.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean, my brother?” Palin scoffed. “Something wise that suddenly struck you? Did a brain finally make an appearance through all that muscle?”

  He leered mockingly at Tanin, expecting—no, hoping that his brother would become angry and try to stop him. Then I’ll really show him a trick or two! Palin thought.

  But Tanin just stood there, regarding him gravely.

  And then it was his uncle—Raistlin—regarding the young mage gravely … sadly, in disappointment.

  “I—I—Name of the gods!” Palin faltered, putting his hand to his head. His cruel words came back to him. “Tanin, I’m sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me.” Turning, he saw Sturm, hanging helplessly in the air. “Sturm!” Palin held out his hand
s. “I’m sorry! I’ll let you go—”

  “Palin, don’t—!” Sturm began wildly, but it was too late.

  The spell broken, the young man fell to the floor with a yell and a crash, to be instantly surrounded by the cooing and clucking women. It was a few moments before Sturm made his appearance again, his red hair tousled, his face flushed. Getting to his feet, he pushed the women aside and limped toward his brothers.

  “I was wrong,” Palin said, shivering. “I understand now. These women are being held in thrall …”

  “Aye, lad,” said Dougan. “Just as you were yourself. It’s the power of the Graygem, trying to take hold of you, exploiting your weaknesses as it did theirs.”

  “By giving us what we want,” Palin said thoughtfully.

  “That’s what we’ll turn into, the longer we stay here,” Tanin added. “Slaves of the Graygem. Don’t you see, these women are guarding it just as effectively inside this castle as their men are outside. That’s why nothing shifts in here. The Graygem’s keeping it stable for them!”

  The women began sidling nearer, reaching out their hands once more. “How boring … don’t go … don’t leave us … stupid rock …”

  “Well, let’s go find this Lord Gargath then,” Sturm muttered, shamefaced. Try as he might, his gaze still strayed toward the blonde, who was blowing kisses at him.

  “Take your spears,” said Tanin, shoving aside the soft hands that were clinging to him. “These women might or might not be telling us the truth. That old wizard could be laughing at us right now.”

  “They said he was ‘up there.’ ” Palin gazed at the ceiling. “But where? How do we get there?”

  “Uh, I believe I know the way, laddie,” Dougan said. “Just a hunch, mind you,” he added hastily, seeing Tanin’s dark look. “That door, there, leads upstairs … I think.…”

  “Humpf.” Tanin growled, but went to investigate the door, his brothers and the dwarf following behind.

  “What did you mean, you’re the only one who has a right to the Graygem?” Palin asked Dougan in an undertone.

  “Did I say that?” The dwarf looked at him shrewdly. “Must have been the gem talking.…”

  “Oh, please don’t go!” cried the women.

  “Never mind. They’ll be coming back soon,” predicted the dark-haired beauty.

  “And when you do come back, maybe you can show us some more of those cute magic tricks,” called the blonde to Palin politely.

  Chapter Eight

  Lord Gargath

  Dougan was right. The door led to another flight of narrow stairs, carved out of the stone walls of the castle. It was pitch dark; the only light was the burning crystal atop the Staff of Magius. After another leg-aching climb, they came to a large wooden door.

  “Would you look at that!” Sturm said, stunned.

  “What in the name of the Abyss is it?” Tanin wondered.

  It was a fantastic mechanism, sitting in front of the door. Barely visible in the shadows, it was made of iron and had all sorts of iron arms and gears and rope pulleys and winches extending from the stone floor up to the ceiling.

  “Hold the light closer, Palin,” Tanin said, stooping down beside it. “There’s something in the center, surrounded by a bunch of … mirrors.”

  Cautiously, Palin held the light down near the device and the room was suddenly illuminated as if by a hundred suns. Tanin shrieked and covered his eyes with his hands. “I can’t see a thing!” he cried, staggering back against the wall. “Move the staff! Move the staff!”

  “It’s a sundial!” Palin reported, holding the staff back and staring at the device in astonishment. “Surrounded by mirrors …”

  “Ah,” said Dougan triumphantly, “a gnome timelock.”

  “A timelock?”

  “Aye, lad. You wait until the dial casts the shadow of the sun on the correct time, and the lock will open.”

  “But,” pointed out Palin in confusion, “the way the mirrors are fixed, there could never be a shadow! It’s always noon.”

  “Not to mention,” added Tanin bitterly, rubbing his eyes, “that this place is pitch dark. There’re no windows! How’s the sun supposed to hit it?”

  “Small design flaws,” said the dwarf. “I’m sure it’s in committee—”

  “Meanwhile, how do we open the door?” Sturm asked, slumping back wearily against the wall.

  “Too bad Tas isn’t here,” said Palin, with a smile.

  “Tas?” Dougan scowled, whirling around. “You don’t mean Tasslehoff Burrfoot? The kender?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “No,” the dwarf growled, “but a friend of mine does. This crazy dwarf sits under a tree near my for— near where I work, day in, day out, whittling his endless wood and muttering ‘doorknob of a kender’ this and ‘doorknob of a kender’ that.”

  “A friend?” Palin said, mystified. “Why that sounds like a story our father told about Flint—”

  “Never you mind!” Dougan snapped irritably. “And quit talking about kender! We’re in enough trouble as it is. Brrrrr.” He shivered. “Makes my skin crawl …”

  The faintest glimmering of understanding lit the confused darkness of Palin’s mind. Dimly he began to see the truth. But though the light shone on his thoughts, they were such a confused jumble that he couldn’t sort them out or even decide whether he should feel relieved or more terrified.

  “Maybe we could break the mirrors,” Tanin suggested, blinking in the darkness, trying to see beyond the sea of bright blue spots that filled his vision.

  “I wouldn’t,” Dougan warned. “The thing’s likely to blow up.”

  “You mean it’s trapped?” Sturm asked nervously, backing away.

  “No!” Dougan snapped irritably. “I mean it’s made by gnomes. It’s likely to blow up.”

  “If it did”—Tanin scratched his chin thoughtfully—“it would probably blow a hole in the door.”

  “And us with it,” Palin pointed out.

  “Just you, Little Brother,” Sturm said helpfully. “We’ll be down at the bottom of the stairs.”

  “We have to try, Palin,” Tanin decided. “We have no idea how long before the power of the Graygem takes hold of us again. It probably won’t be a big explosion,” he added soothingly. “It isn’t a very big device, after all.”

  “No, it just takes up the whole door. Oh, very well,” Palin grumbled. “Stand back.”

  The warning was unnecessary. Dougan was already clambering down the stairs, Sturm behind him. Tanin rounded the corner of the wall, but stopped where he could see Palin.

  Edging up cautiously on the device, Palin raised the end of the staff over the first mirror, averting his face and shutting his eyes as he did so. At that moment, however, a voice came from the other side of the door.

  “I believe all you have to do is turn the handle.”

  Palin arrested his downward jab. “Who said that?” he shouted, backing up.

  “Me,” said the voice again in meek tones. “Just turn the handle.”

  “You mean, the door’s not locked?” Palin asked in amazement.

  “Nobody’s perfect,” said the voice defensively.

  Gingerly, Palin reached out his hand and, after removing several connecting arms and undoing a rope or two, he turned the door handle. There was a click, and the door swung open on creaking hinges.

  Entering the chamber with some difficulty, his robes having caught on a gear, Palin looked around in awe.

  He was in a room shaped like a cone—round at the bottom, it came to a point at the ceiling. The chamber was lit by oil lamps, placed at intervals around the circular floor, their flickering flames illuminating the room as brightly as day. Tanin was about to step through the door past Palin, when his brother stopped him.

  “Wait!” Palin cautioned, catching hold of Tanin’s arm. “Look! On the floor!”

  “Well, what is it?” Tanin asked. “Some sort of design—”

  “It’s a pentagram, a mag
ic symbol,” Palin said softly. “Don’t step within the circle of the lamps!”

  “What’s it there for?” Sturm peered over Tanin’s broad shoulders, while Dougan jumped up and down in back, trying to see.

  “I think … Yes!” Palin stared up into the very top of the ceiling. “It’s holding the Graygem! Look!” He pointed.

  Everyone tilted back their heads, staring upward, except the dwarf, who was cursing loudly about not being able to see. Dropping down to his hands and knees, Dougan finally managed to thrust his head in between Tanin’s and Sturm’s legs and peered upward, his beard trailing on the polished stone floor.

  “Aye, laddie,” he said with a longing sigh. “That’s it! The Graygem of Gargath!”

  Hovering in the air, below the very point of the cone, was a gray-colored jewel. Its shape was impossible to distinguish, as was its size, for it changed as they stared at it—first it was round and as big as a man’s fist; then it was a prism as large as a man himself; then it was a cube, no bigger than a lady’s bauble; then round again.… The jewel had been dark when they entered the room, not even reflecting the light from the lamps below. But now a soft gray light of its own began to beam from it.

  Palin felt the magic tingle through him. Words to spells of unbelievable power flooded his mind. His uncle had been a weakling compared to him! He would rule the world, the heavens, the Abyss—

  “Steady, Little Brother,” came a distant voice.

  “Hold onto me, Tanin!” Palin gasped, reaching out his hand to his brother. “Help me fight it!”

  “It’s no use,” came the voice they had heard through the door, this time sounding sad and resigned. “You can’t fight it. It will consume you in the end, as it did me.”

  Wrenching his gaze from the gray light that was fast dazzling him with its brilliance, Palin peered around the conical room. Looking across from where he stood, he could make out a tall, high-backed chair placed against a tapestry-adorned wall. The chair’s back was carved with various runes and magical inscriptions, designed—apparently—to protect the mage who sat there from whatever beings he summoned forth to do his bidding. The voice seemed to be coming from the direction of the chair, but Palin could not see anyone sitting there.