The Knights of the Thorn, the magic-wielding arm of the Knights of Neraka, were also feeling their magical powers on the wane. They blamed Palin and his mages of the Academy of Sorcery. In a daring raid on the Academy, they kidnapped Palin, while Beryl’s dragon minions destroyed it.
After months of “questioning,” the Gray Robes had released Palin. Caramon had not wanted to go into details about the torment his son had endured, and Gerard had not pressed him. The residents of Solace discussed the matter at length, however. In their opinion, the enemy had not only twisted Palin’s Majere’s fingers, they had twisted his soul as well.
Palin’s face was haggard, hollow-cheeked, with dark splotches beneath the eyes as if he slept little. He had few wrinkles; the skin was pulled taut, stretched over the fine bones. The deep lines around his mouth, which had marked the track of smiles, were beginning to fade away from disuse. His auburn hair had gone completely gray. The fingers of his hands, once supple and slender, were now twisted, cruelly deformed.
“Cut his bindings,” Palin ordered the elves. “He is a Solamnic Knight, as he claims.”
The two elves were dubious, but they did as they were told, though they continued to keep a close watch on him. Gerard rose to his feet, flexed his arms, and stretched his aching muscles.
“So you came all this way, disguised, risking your life to bring me this news,” said Palin. “I must confess that I fail to see the need for the kender. Unless the story I heard is true, that this kender really did steal a powerful magical artifact. Let us have a look at him.”
Palin knelt down beside the sack where the kender wriggled.
He stretched out his hand, started to try to untie the knots, but his deformed fingers could not manage. Gerard looked at the wizard’s fingers, looked quickly away, not wanting to seem to pity him.
“Does the sight distress you?” Palin asked with a sneer. Standing up, he covered his hands with the sleeves of his robes. “<I will> take care not to trouble you.”
“It does distress me, sir,” Gerard said quietly. “It distresses me to see any good man suffer as you have suffered.”
“Suffered, yes! I was a prisoner of the Thorn Knights for three months. Three months! And not a day passed when they did not torment me in some way. Do you know why? Do you know what they wanted? They wanted to know why their magical power was waning! They thought I had something to do with it!” Palin gave a bitter laugh. “And do you want to know why they let me go? Because they realized I was not a threat! Just a broken old man who could do nothing to harm them or hinder them.”
“They might have killed you, sir,” Gerard said.
“It would have been better if they had,” Palin returned.
The two were silent. Gerard looked down at the floor. Even the kender was quiet, subdued. He had quit wrigglng.
Palin gave a soft sigh. Reaching out his broken hand, he touched Gerard’s arm.
“Forgive me, Sir Knight,” he said in a quieter tone. “Pay no heed to what I said. I am quick to take offense these days. And I have not yet even thanked you for bringing me news of my father. I do thank you. I am sorry for his death, but I cannot grieve for him. As I said, he has gone to a better place.
“And now,” Palin added with a shrewd look at the young Knight, “I am beginning to think that this sad news alone has not brought you all this way. Wearing this disguise puts you in great danger, Gerard. If the Dark Knights were to discover the truth, you would endure torment far worse than what I suffered, and then you would be executed.”
Palin’s thin lips formed a bitter smile. “What other news do you have for me? It can’t be good. No one would risk his life to bring me good news. And how could you know that you would find me?”
“I did not find you, sir,” Gerard said. “You found me.”
Palin looked puzzled, at first then he nodded. “Ah, I understand. The mention of the artifact that once belonged to my Uncle Raistlin. You knew that would pique my interest.”
“I hoped it would do so, sir,” said Gerard. “My guess was that either the elf posted at the bridge would be part of the resistance movement or the bridge itself would be under observation. I trusted that the mention of an artifact coupled with the name Majere would be carried to you.”
“You ran a great risk in trusting yourself to the elves. As you found out there are those who would have no compunction in slaying one of your kind.”
Gerard glanced at the two elves, Kalindas and Kelevandros, if he had heard the names right. They had not shifted their eyes from him once, kept their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“I am aware of that, sir,” said Gerard. “But this seemed the only way to reach you.”
“So I take it there is no artifact?” Palin said, adding in a tone of bitter disappointment. “It was all a ruse.”
“On the contrary, sir, there is an artifact. That is part of the reason I came.”
At this, the kender’s squeaks started up again, louder and more insistent. He began to drum his feet on the floor, and he rolled about wildly in his sack. ;,
“For mercy’s sake, shut him up,” Palin ordered irritably. “His screeching will summon every Dark Knight in Qualinesti. Carry him inside.”
“We should leave him in the sack, Master,” said Kalindas. “We do not want him finding his way back here.”
“Very well,” Palin agreed.
One of the elves picked up the kender, sack and all. The other elf glared sternly at Gerard and asked a question.
“No,” Palin answered. “We do not need to blindfold him. He belongs to the old school of Knights: those who still believe in honor.”
The elf carrying the kender walked toward the back of the cave and, to Gerard’s intense astonishment, continued right through solid stone. Palin followed, placing his hand on Gerard’s arm and propelling the Knight forward. The illusion of stone was so convincing that it was all Gerard could do to keep from wincing ashe walked into what looked like a wall of sharp and jagged rocks.
“Some magic still works apparently,” Gerard said, impressed.
“Some,” Palin said. “But it is erratic. The spell can fail at any moment and must be constantly renewed.”
Gerard emerged from the wall to find himself in a garden of wondrous beauty, shaded by trees whose branches and thick leaves formed a solid curtain above and around them. Kalindas carried the bagged kender through the wall, deposited him on the flagstone walk of the garden. Chairs made of bent willow branches and a table made of crystal stood beside a shining pool of clear water.
Palin said something to Kelevandros. Gerard caught the name, “Laurana.” The elf departed, running lightly through the garden.
“You have loyal guardians, sir,” said Gerard, looking after the elf.
“They belong to the household of the Queen Mother,” Palin replied. “They have been in Laurana’s service for years, ever since her husband died. Sit down.”
He made a motion with his crooked hands and a fall of water began, streaming down in front of the illusionary wall to splash into the pool below.
“I have sent to inform the Queen Mother of your arrival. You are now a guest in her house. Or rather, one of the gardens in her house. Here, you are safe, as safe as anyone is in these dark times.”
Thankfully, Gerard removed the heavy breastplate and rubbed his bruised ribs. He laved his face with the cool water and drank deeply.
“Let the kender out now,” Palin ordered.
Kalindas untied the sack and the kender emerged, flushed and indignant, his long hair covering his face. He sucked in a huge breath and wiped his forehead.
“Whew! I was getting really sick of smelling nothing but sack.”
Flipping his topknot back over his head, the kender looked around with interest.