'By his failure, your brother succeeded in what he set out to accomplish,' Dalamar remarked, his smile twisting. 'In a way, he HAS become a god…'
'Palin, I insist on knowing what's going on.' Tanin laid his hand on Palin's shoulder.
'You heard them, Tanin,' Palin hedged, nodding toward Dalamar, who was talking with his father. 'We're going to travel to the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas, where the Portal is located, and… and look in… That's all.'
'And I'm a gully dwarf!' growled Tanin.
'Sometimes you think like one,' Palin snapped, losing his patience and thrusting his brother's arm away.
Tanin's face flushed a dull red. Unlike the easygoing Sturm, Tanin had inherited his mother's temper along with her curls. He also took his role of Elder Brother seriously, too seriously sometimes to Palin's mind. But it's only because he loves me, the young man reminded himself.
Drawing a deep breath, he sighed and, reaching out, clasped his brother by the shoulders. 'Tanin, you listen to me for a change. Sturm's right. I didn't 'blubber' when you went off to battle that first time. At least not when you could see me. But I cried all night, alone, in the darkness. Don't you think I know that each time you leave may be the last time we ever see each other? How many times have you been wounded? That last fight, that minotaur arrow missed your heart by only two fingersbreadth.'
Tanin, his face dark, stared down at his feet. 'That's different,' he muttered.
'As Granpa Tas would say, 'A chicken with its neck wrung is different from a chicken with its head cut off, but does it matter to the chicken?' ' Palin smiled.
Swallowing his tears, Tanin shrugged and tried to grin. 'I guess you're right.' He put his hands on Palin's shoulders, looked intently into his pale face. 'Come home, kid! Give this up!' he whispered fiercely. 'It isn't worth it! If anything happened to you, think what it would do to Mother… and Father…'
'I know,' Palin said, his own eyes filling despite all his best efforts to prevent it. 'I have thought of that! I must do this, Tanin. Try to understand. Tell Mother I… I love her very much. And the little girls. Tell them I'll… I'll bring them a present, like you and Sturm always do…'
'What? A dead lizard?' Tanin growled. 'Some moldy old bat's wing?'
Wiping his eyes, Palin smiled. 'Yeah, tell 'em that. You better go. Dad's watching us.'
'Watch yourself, little brother. And him.' Tanin glanced at his father. 'This will be pretty tough on him.'
'I know.' Palin sighed. 'Believe me, I know.'
Tanin hesitated. Palin saw one more lecture, one more attempt to dissuade him in his brother's eyes.
'Please, Tanin,' he said softly. 'No more.'
Blinking rapidly and rubbing his nose, Tanin nodded. Cuffing his little brother on the cheek and ruffling the auburn hair, Tanin walked across the shadowy chamber to stand near the entryway with Sturm.
Palin watched him walk away, then, turning, he went the opposite direction, toward the front of the great hall, to bid his parting respects to the two wizards.
'So Dalamar has spoken to you,' Justarius said as the young man came to stand before him.
'Yes,' said Palin grimly. 'HE has told me the truth.'
'Has he?' Dunbar asked suddenly. 'Remember this, young one. Dalamar wears the Black Robes. He is ambitious. Whatever he does, he does because he believes it will ultimately benefit him.'
'Can you two deny what he told me is true? That you are using me as bait to trap my uncle's spirit if it still lives?'
Justarius glanced at Dunbar, who shook his head.
'Sometimes you have to look for the truth here, Palin,' Dunbar said in answer, reaching out his hand to touch Palin gently on the chest, 'in your heart.'
His lip curled in derision, but Palin knew what respect he must show two such high-ranking wizards. So he simply bowed. 'Dalamar and my father are waiting for me. I bid you both farewell. The gods willing, I will return in a year or two for my Test, and I hope I will have the honor of seeing you both again.'
Justarius did not miss the sarcasm, nor the bitter, angry expression on the young man's face. It made him recall another bitter, angry young man, who had come to this Tower over thirty years ago…
'May Gilean go with you, Palin,' the archmage said softly, folding his hands in the sleeves of his robes.
'May Paladine, the god you are named for, guide you, Palin,' Dunbar said. 'And consider this,' he added, a smile creasing his black face, 'in case you never see the old Sea Wizard again. You may learn that-by serving the world-you serve yourself best of all'
Palin did not reply. Bowing again, he turned and left them. The chamber seemed to grow darker as he walked back across it. He might have been alone, he could see no one for a moment, not his brothers, not Dalamar and his father… But as the darkness deepened, the white of his robes gleamed more brightly, like the first star in the evening sky.
For an instant, fear assailed Palin. Had they all left him? Was he alone in this vast darkness? Then he saw a glint of metal near him-his father's armor, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His steps hurried and, as he came to stand beside his father, the chamber seemed to lighten. He could see the dark elf, standing next to Caramon, pale face all that was visible from the shadows of his black robes. Palin could see his brothers, could see them lift their hands in farewell. Palin started to raise his, but then Dalamar began chanting, and it seemed a dark cloud covered the light of Palin's robes, of Caramon's armor. The darkness grew thicker, swirling around them until it was so deep that it was a hole of blackness cut into the shadows of the chamber. Then there was nothing. The cold, eerie light returned to the Tower, filling up the gap.
Dalamar, Palin, and Caramon were gone.
The two brothers left behind shouldered their packs and began the long, strange journey back through the magical Forest of Wayreth, thoughts of breaking this news to their red-haired, fiery-tempered, loving mother hanging around their hearts with the weight of dwarven armor.
Behind them, standing beside the great stone chairs, Justarius and Dunbar watched in grim silence. Then, each speaking a word of magic, they, too, were gone, and the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth was left to its shadows, only memories walked the halls.
CHAPTER FIVE
''He came in the middle of a still, black night,'' Dalamar said softly. ' The only moon in the sky was one his eyes alone could see.'' The dark elf glanced at Palin from the depths of the black hood that covered his head. 'Thus runs the legend about your uncle's return to this Tower.'
Palin said nothing-the words were in his heart. They had been there, secretly, ever since he was old enough to dream. In awe, he looked up at the huge gates that barred the entrance, trying to imagine his uncle standing where he now stood, commanding the gates to open. And when they did- Palin's gaze went farther upward still to the dark Tower itself.
It was daylight in Palanthas, it had been mid-morning when they left the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth, hundreds of miles to the south. And it was mid-morning still, their magical journey having taken them no more than the drawing of a breath. The sun was at its zenith, shining right above the Tower. Two of the blood-red minarets atop the Tower held the golden orb between them, like blood-stained fingers greedily grasping a coin. And the sun might well have been nothing more than a coin for all the warmth it shed, for no sunshine ever warmed this place of evil. The huge black stone edifice-torn from the bones of the world by magic spells-stood in the shadow of the spell-bound Shoikan Grove, a stand of massive oak trees that guarded the Tower more effectively than if each tree had been a hundred knights-at-arms. So powerful was its dread enchantment that no one could even come near it. Unless protected by a dark charm, no one could enter and come out alive.
Turning his head, Palin glanced from the folds of his white hood at the Grove's tall trees. They stood un- moving, though he could feel the wind from the sea blowing strong upon his face. It was said that even the terrible hurricanes of the Cataclysm had not caused a leaf to flutter in the Shoikan Grove, though no other tree in the city remained standing. A chill darkness flowed among the trunks of the oaks, reaching out snaking tendrils of icy fog that slithered along the paved courtyard before the gates, writhing about the ankles of those who stood there.
Shivering with cold and a fear he could not control, a fear fed by the trees, Palin looked at his father with new
