Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation (51 page)

The last time Tanis had been in the Tower of the Sun had been during the dark days just prior to the War of the Lance. Evil dragons had returned to Krynn. A new and terrible foe—the draconians—were joining with other servants of the Dark Queen to form immense armies under the captaincy of powerful Dragon Highlords. Victory against such mighty forces seemed impossible. In this tower, the elves of Qualinesti had come together for possibly the last time, to plan the exodus of their people from their beloved homeland.

Tiny flickering flames of hope had burned steadily through that dark night: Hope in the form of a blue crystal staff and a woman wise and strong enough to wield it; hope in the unlikely form of a merry kender who decided to help in "small ways"; hope in the form of a knight whose courage was a blazing beacon to those who cowered in fear beneath the Dark Queen's dread wings. Goldmoon, Tasslehoff, Sturm—they and the rest of the companions had been with Tanis in this room, in this tower. He sensed their presence with him now. Looking around the chamber of the Speaker of the Sun, he was cheered. All would be well. He glanced up into the dome, at the glittering tile mosaic, which portrayed the blue sky and the sun on one half; the silver moon, the red moon, and the stars on the other.

"Please the gods," Tanis prayed softly. "I'll take you home, my son, and we'll start over. And this time things will be better. I promise."

Dalamar, standing beside Tanis, was also gazing upward. The dark elf gave an amused chuckle.

"I wonder if they know that the black moon is now visible on their ceiling?" Shocked, Tanis stared. Then he shook his head. "It's only a hole. A few tiles have fallen out. That's all."

Dalamar gave him a sidelong glance. The dark elf smiled.

Tanis, uncomfortable, ceased to look at the mosaic.

The tower's white marble walls glistened red in the dawn. The huge, round room in which they stood was currently empty, except for a rostrum, placed directly beneath the domed ceiling. People had not yet gathered; they would wait until the sun was completely over the horizon. Tanis and Dalamar had arrived early, traveling the corridors of magic—a brief, but nerve-jolting journey that left Tanis confused and disoriented.

Before they left the Tower of High Sorcery, Dalamar had given Tanis a ring carved from crystal clear quartz.

"Wear this, my friend, and no one will be able to see you."

"You mean I'll be invisible?" Tanis asked, regarding the ring dubiously, not touching it. Dalamar slid the ring on Tanis's index finger.

"I mean no one will be able to see you," the dark elf replied. "Except myself." Tanis didn't understand, then decided that he didn't particularly want to understand. Holding his hand awkwardly, not daring to touch the ring for fear of disrupting the spell, he wished impatiently for the ceremony to begin. The sooner started, the sooner over, and he and Gil would be safely home. The bright sunlight shone through small windows cut into the tower, reflected off mirrors placed in the shining marble walls. The Heads of Household began to file into the chamber. Several walked over to stand directly in front of Tanis. He stiffened, waiting to be spotted. Elves walked very near him, but none paid any attention to him. Relaxing, Tanis glanced over at Dalamar. He could see the dark elf, and the dark elf could see him, but no one else could. The magic was working.

Tanis searched the crowd.

Dalamar leaned near, spoke softly, "Is your son here?"

Tanis shook his head. He tried to tell himself all was well. It was early. Gil would probably enter with the Thalas-Enthia.

"Remember the plan," Dalamar added unnecessarily. Tanis had thought of nothing but the plan all during a long and sleepless night. "I must make physical contact with him in order to magically transport him. Which means we must reveal ourselves. He will be alarmed, may try to break away. It will be up to you to calm him. We must act quickly. If any elven White Robes should see us—"

"Stop worrying," Tanis said impatiently. "I know what to do." The chamber filled rapidly. The elves were excited, tense. Rumors sprouted faster than weeds. Tanis heard the name Porthios pronounced several times, more in sorrow than in anger. Whenever Alhana's name was spoken, however, it was generally accompanied with a curse. Porthios obviously was a victim of the seductive Silvanesti woman. The word "witch" was used by several elder elves standing near Tanis.

He stirred restlessly, found it difficult to contain himself. He would have given all his wealth to be able to bang their heads together, knock some sense into these hidebound old fools.

"Easy, my friend," Dalamar warned softy, resting his hand on Tanis's arm. "Do not give us away." Tanis set his jaw, tried to calm down. An argument erupted on the opposite side of the chamber. Several young elves—who had become Heads of Household on the untimely death of a parent were in loud disagreement with their elders.

"The winds of change are blowing in the world, bringing new ideas, fresh thoughts. We elves should open our windows, air out our houses, rid ourselves of stale and stagnant ways," one young woman was proclaiming.

Tanis silently applauded these young men and women, but was sorry to note that their numbers were few, their youthful voices easily shouted down. A silver bell rang once. Silence fell over the assembly. The members of the Thalas-Enthia were arriving.

The other elves made way respectfully for the senators. Clad in their robes of state, they formed a circle around the rostrum.

Tanis searched the group for Gil, but could not find him.

A white-robed mage, a member of the Thalas-Enthia, lifted her head. She glanced sharply and with lowered brows around the chamber.

"Damn it to the Abyss," Dalamar muttered, and he plucked Tanis's sleeve. "Watch out for that wizardess, my friend. She senses something's wrong."

Tanis looked alarmed. "Does she see you? Us?"

"No, not yet. I'm like a bad smell to her," Dalamar said. "Just as she is to me." The White Robe continued to search the crowd, then the silver bell rang out four times. All the elves began to crane their necks, the shorter standing on tiptoe to see over the heads and shoulders of the taller. Their eyes focused on a small alcove adjacent to the central chamber, an alcove Tanis suddenly remembered. In that room, he and his friends had waited until called to the come before old Solostaran, Speaker of the Sun and Stars, Laurana's father, a man who had been foster father to Tanis.

In that alcove, Tanis knew, with a painful constricting of his heart, was his son. Gilthas entered the chamber.

Tanis forgot their danger, forgot everything in his concern, his astonishment, and—it must be admitted—his pride.

The little boy who had run away from home was gone. In his place walked a young man, with grave and solemn countenance, a young man who stood upright, tall and dignified in the yellow, shimmering robes of the Speaker.

The elves murmured among themselves. They were obviously impressed.

Tanis was impressed. From this distance, his son looked every inch a king. And then Gilthas stepped into a shaft of brilliant sunlight. The father's loving eye caught the tremor in the young man's clenched jaw, the pallor of the face, his expression, which was carefully and deliberately blank. Rashas and the white-robed elven wizardess both moved to stand beside him.

"That's Gilthas. Let's go."

Hand on his sword, Tanis started forward. Dalamar caught hold of him, dragged him back.

"What now?" Tanis demanded angrily, and then he saw the look on the dark elf's face. "What's wrong?"

"He's wearing the sun medallion," Dalamar said.

"What? Where? I don't see it."

"It's hidden beneath his robes."

"So?" Tanis didn't understand the problem.

"The medallion is a holy artifact, blessed by Paladine. The medallion's power protects him from the likes of me. I dare not touch him."

The dark elf drew near, whispered in Tanis's ear. "I don't like this, my friend. What's Gilthas doing with the sun medallion? Only the Speaker of the Sun and Stars may wear it. Porthios would never give it up voluntarily and, because of its holy properties, the medallion can't be taken from him by force. Something sinister is at work here."

"All the more reason to get Gil out! What do we do now?"

"Your son has to take off the medallion, Tanis. And he must do it of his own free will."

"I'll see to that!" Tanis said, and again started forward.

"No, wait!" Dalamar cautioned. "Patience, my friend. Now is not the time—not with the cursed White Robe standing near him. Let us see what transpires. The proper moment will come. When it does, you must be ready."

The half-elf slowly released his grip on his sword hilt. It was his instinct to act, to do, not to wait around.

But Dalamar was right. Now was not the time. Restlessly, Tanis shifted from one foot to the other, forced himself to be patient.

Gilthas had come to stand near the side of the rostrum. He was shorter than the elves around him.

He would never be the normal height of an elf—a result of his human bloodline. For a moment, he looked undersized, not very kingly.

Rashas prodded him forward, had his hand on Gil's shoulder.

Gil turned and stared at Rashas coldly.

Smiling, lips tight, Rashas removed his hand.

Turning his back on Rashas, Gilthas walked slowly up to the rostrum. Once he was there, he raised his head and cast one swift, searching, hopeful glance around the room.

"He's looking for me," Tanis said. He had his hand on the ring. "He knows I'll come for him. If he could only see me…"

Dalamar shook his head. "He might accidentally give us away." Tanis watched helplessly and saw his son's hope die.

Gil's head bowed. His shoulders slumped. Then, drawing a deep breath, he raised his head and stared unseeing, with stoic calm, out into the crowd.

Rashas was getting along with business, moving through it hastily, dispensing with all the ritual and ceremonial trappings elves love.

"The situation is grave. Last night, the Qualinesti guards caught an intruder, a Silvanesti spy!" The elder elves looked suitably shocked and irate. The young ones exchanged glances, shook their heads.

"The spy was captured and will stand trial. But who knows if he is the only one? Who knows but that he might not be the forerunner of an invasion army! Therefore," Rashas was talking loudly, practically shouting, "in the interests of this nation's security, the senate has decided to pursue the only course of action left open to us.

"It is the decision of the Thalas-Enthia that, for crimes against his people, the current Speaker of the Sun and Stars, Porthios of the House of Solostaran, should be stripped of his title. That, further, he shall be exiled, cast out from this land, and from all lands where good men walk."

"We challenge that ruling!" called a loud voice.

The elder elves were horrified, demanded to know who dared to do such a thing. The group of young elves stood together, defiance hardening their faces.

"The Heads of Household had no say in this," continued the young elf, his voice rising over the outraged calls for silence. "And therefore we challenge the ruling."

"This is not a matter for the Heads of Household," said Rashas in icy tones. "By law, the Speaker determines if an elf is to be cast out. In the case where it is the Speaker himself who has committed a serious crime, the Thalas-Enthia is granted power to stand in judgment."

"And who decided Porthios committed a crime?" the young man pursued.

"The Thalas-Enthia," Rashas answered.

"How convenient!" The young man sneered.

His cohorts backed him up. "Put it to a vote of the Heads of Household," several shouted.

"We want to hear from Porthios," a young woman called out. "He should have a right to defend himself."

"He was offered that right," said Rashas smoothly. "We sent word to Silvanesti. Our messenger told the Speaker that he had been brought up on charges of treason and that he should return immediately to answer them. As you see, Porthios is not present. He remains in Silvanesti. He disdains not only these proceedings, but his own people."

"Clever, very clever," Dalamar murmured. "Of course, Rashas fails to mention the fact that Porthios is locked in a prison cell in Silvanesti."

Tanis stood watching the proceedings in grim silence. His fear for his son was growing. Rashas, it seemed, would stop at nothing. Dalamar had been right. The senator was now in the clutches of the Dark Queen.

Rashas was forging ahead, "And here is the supreme mark of the disdain of Porthios for his people. Show them, Prince Gilthas."

Gilthas lifted his head. He appeared to hesitate. Rashas said something to him. Gilthas glanced at the man, loathing and hatred in that glance. Then, slowly, he reached his hand into his yellow robes and drew forth the glittering, golden medallion formed in the image of the sun. Anger, like a gust of wind, swept through the chamber.

The sun medallion was an ancient, holy artifact, handed down through the centuries from one Speaker to his successor. Tanis had no very clear idea what its powers were. These had long been a well kept secret among the descendants of Silvanos.

How much did Dalamar know about it? Tanis wondered uneasily. And how he had found out? Not that it mattered. The dark elf was right. Porthios would have never voluntarily relinquished the holy medallion.

The White Robe was whispering in Rashas's ear. Dalamar tensed, but the White Robe was apparently offering advice, not issuing a warning.

"All has been done in accordance with the law," Rashas said, "but, if some of our younger and more inexperienced members request a vote, then we will allow it."

The vote took place. Porthios lost, by a considerable majority. The sun medallion had clinched the matter. In the eyes of the elves, Porthios had renounced his own people. The young elves were the only ones to loyally support the absent Speaker.

Rashas proceeded relentlessly. "Leaderless, we turn to another member of the illustrious lineage of Silvanos. It is my pleasure and honor to present Gilthas, son of Lauralanthalasa, daughter of Solostaran, and the next Speaker of the Sun and Stars."