The Second Generation

“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.

“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.”

“Old wives generally know what they’re talking about,” Tanis said. “Curses can take many forms. The young man’s going to be in for an unpleasant shock, if nothing else.”

“And he’s going to be furious when he wakes up,” Caramon pointed out. “I doubt if he’ll even listen to us, much less believe anything we tell him. This is hopeless, Sara. Your plan won’t work—”

“It can. It must! I will not lose him!” She glared at them fiercely. “You saw him. You heard him! He is not totally given over to evil. He might change his mind. Please, help me! Help him! Once we get him away from here, away from this dark influence—once he sees the High Clerist’s Tower and remembers ...”

“Very well. We’ll try,” Tanis said. “After all, we’ve come this far. I’ll take one arm—”

“This is my work, Tanis.” Caramon shouldered him aside.

Accustomed to carrying barrels of ale on his broad back, Caramon picked the young man up bodily and heaved him effortlessly over a broad shoulder.

Steel’s head and flaccid arms dangled in front, his long hair practically brushing the ground. Grunting, Caramon settled the young man more securely, then nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Sara flung a cloak over Steel, grabbed a cloak for herself and her dragon rider helm. Opening the door a crack, she peered out. The rain had ceased for the moment, and the stars shone. The constellation of the Dark Queen, very near, gleamed with ominous brilliance. Storm clouds were massing again on the horizon.

Sara motioned, and they hastened out. They met no one until they neared the stables, then ran almost headlong into a knight in black armor.

He glanced at Steel and smiled coolly. “Another casualty? The young men threw themselves into their training this night. The clerics will earn their keep today.” Saluting, the knight went about his business.