He woke with a start. He’d slept longer than usual, longer than he’d intended. But his sleep had not been restful, had left him feeling heavy-limbed, fuzzy-brained. He blinked. Looking up, he half expected to see Caramon. He saw Laurana. “Gil’s gone,” she said.
Tanis struggled to shake off the dream, the heaviness. “Gone?” he repeated stupidly. “Where?”
“I don’t know for certain, but I think—” Her voice broke. Wordlessly, she held out to Tanis a sheet of gold leaf paper. Rubbing his eyes, Tanis leveraged himself to a sitting position. Laurana slid onto the bed beside him and put her arm around his shoulder. He read the invitation. “Where did you find this?”
“In... in his room. I didn’t mean to snoop. It was just... He didn’t come down to breakfast. I thought he might be ill. I went to check.” Her head drooped, and tears slid down her cheeks. “His bed wasn’t slept in. His clothes are gone. And this... this... was on the floor... by the window...” She broke down. After a moment’s silent struggle, she regained control of herself. “I went to the stable. His horse is gone, too. The groom didn’t hear or see anything—”
“Old Hastings is deaf as a post. He wouldn’t have heard the Cataclysm. Caramon tried to warn me this would happen. I didn’t listen."
Tanis sighed. Subconsciously, he’d listened. That was what the dream meant. Let me sleep ...
“Everything’s going to be fine, dearest,” Tanis said cheerfully. Kissing his wife, he held her close. “Gil left this behind, knowing we’d find it. He wants us to come after him. He wants to be stopped. This is his rooster crow of independence, that’s all. I’ll find him at the Black Swan—exhausted, but too proud to admit it, pretending he’s going to ride on, secretly hoping I’ll argue him out of it.” “You won’t scold him ...” Laurana asked anxiously. “No, of course, not. We’ll have a man-to-man talk. It’s long coming. Maybe he and I will even spend the night away from home, ride back together in the morning.”
Tanis warmed to the idea. Now that he thought of it, he had never spent the day alone with his son. They would talk, really talk. Tanis would let Gil know that his father understood.
“This might actually prove to be good for the boy, my dear.” Tanis was up, out of bed, and dressing for travel. “Perhaps I should go, too....”
“No, Laurana,” Tanis said firmly. “This is between Gil and me.” He paused in his preparations. “You don’t really understand why he’s done this, do you?”
“No elven youth would do such a thing,” Laurana said softly, the tears shining in her eyes.
Tanis bent down, kissed her lustrous hair. He remembered a half-elven youth who had run away from his people, his home; a half-elven youth who had run away from her. He guessed that she must be remembering the same.
The hunger for change—the human curse. Or blessing.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll bring him back safely.” “If only he understood! We would sacrifice anything for him. . . ”
Laurana talked on, but Tanis wasn’t listening, not to her. He was listening to the voice of another woman, another mother.
What would you sacrifice for your own son—your wealth? Your honor? Your very life? These were Sara’s words—Sara, surrogate mother of Steel Brightblade.
Chilled, fearful, Tanis remembered the vision. He had not thought about it for years, had put it out of his mind. Once again he stood in the evil fortress of Lord Ariakan, Knight of Takhisis. Dark clouds parted; Solinari’s silver light shone through, giving Tanis a swift glimpse of danger and peril, swirling about his frail son like the driving rain. And then Solinari was swallowed by dark clouds. The vision was gone. And he had forgotten it.
Until now.
“What’s wrong?” Laurana was staring at him, frightened. How well she knew him! Too well...
“Nothing,” he said, forcing a reassuring smile. “I had a bad dream last night, that's all. I guess if s still affecting me. About the war. You know.”
Laurana knew. She had those dreams, too. And she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth, not because he didn’t love her or trust her or respect her, but simply because he couldn’t He had learned at an early age to keep his inner torments and hurts and fears well-hidden. To betray any weakness would give someone the advantage over him. She couldn’t blame him. She’d seen how he’d been raised. A half-human in elven society, he was permitted to live in Qualinesti out of charity and pity. But he had never been accepted. The elves had always let him know he was—and would ever be—an outsider.
“What about Rashas?” she asked, tactfully changing the subject.
“I’ll deal with Rashas,” Tanis said grimly. “I might have known he’d be behind this. Always plotting. I wonder why Porthios puts up with him.”
“Porthios has other worries, my dear. But now that Silvanesti is free of Lorac’s dream, Porthios can finally return home and deal with matters in his own land.”
Lorac’s dream. Lorac had been an elven king, ruler of Silvanesti before the War of the Lance. Afraid that his land was about to fall victim to the invading armies of the Dark Queen, Lorac had tried to use one of the powerful, magical dragon orbs to save his people, his land. Instead, tragically, Lorac had fallen victim to the orb. The evil dragon, Cyan Bloodbane, had taken over Silvanesti, whispered dark dreams into Lorac’s ears.
The dreams had become reality. Silvanesti was a haunted and devastated land, crawling with evil creatures that were both real and, at the same time, a product of Lorac’s fear-twisted vision.
Even after Lorac’s death and the Dark Queen’s defeat, Silvanesti had not been completely freed of the darkness. For long years, the elves had fought the remnants of the dream, fought the dark and evil creatures that still roamed the land. Only now, had they finally defeated them.
Tanis thought of Lorac’s story, thought grimly that it had relevance in this day. Once again, some of the elves were acting irrationally, out of fear. Some of the old, set-in-their-ways elves like Senator Rashas ...
“At least now Porthios has something to take his mind off his troubles—now that Alhana is pregnant,” Tanis said, trying to present a cheerful front, even as he began lacing on his leather armor.
Laurana looked at the armor, which he never wore unless he expected trouble. She bit her lip, but said nothing about it. She continued the conversation, followed his lead.
“I know Alhana is pleased. She has wanted a child for so long. And I think Porthios is pleased, as well, though he tries to act as if fatherhood were nothing special. Just doing his duty by the people. I see a warmth between them that has been missing all these years. I really believe that they are beginning to care for each other.”
“About time,” Tanis muttered. He had never much liked his brother-in-law. Tying his traveling cloak around his shoulders, he picked up a knapsack, then leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Good-bye, love. Don’t fret if we’re not back right away.”
“Oh, Tanis!” Laurana gazed at him searchingly.
“Don’t be afraid. The boy and I need to talk. I see that no w. I should have done it a long time ago, but I had hoped ...” He stopped, then said, “I’ll send you word.”
Buckling on his sword, he kissed her again, and was gone.
His son’s trail was easy to pick up. Spring rains had deluged Solanthus for a month; the ground was muddy, the horse’s hoofprints deep and clear. The only other person who had ridden this road lately was Sir William, delivering Caramon’s message, and the knight had ridden in the opposite direction, toward Solamnia, whereas the Black Swan was located on the road that led south to Qualinesti.
Tanis rode at a relaxed pace. The morning sun was a slit of fire in the sky, and the dew glittered in the grass. The night had been clear, cool enough to make a cloak feel good, but not chill.