The War of the Lance by Weis, Margaret

Khalkists, even if they did ally with the dwarves. The rest

of Solamnia would be left defenseless, which is probably

just exactly what these goblins raids are trying to

accomplish; But these fools don’t want to listen to

reason.”

“Then why are we – ”

” – here? That’s why,” Tanis answered. “The knights

are turning this into a public spectacle in order to remind

everyone how truly great and wonderful we are. Are you

sure we’re going the right direction?”

I could see them now from where I was hiding.

(Caution, not snooping.) Tanis and Caramon and Laurana

were riding on horses, and an escort of knights was riding

behind – a long way behind. Tanis had reigned in his

horse and was looking around like he thought he was lost,

and Caramon was looking, too.

“I think – ” Caramon began.

“Yes, dear,” said Laurana patiently. “This is the trail.

I came this way before, remember?”

“Ten years ago,” Tanis reminded her, turning to look

at her with a smile.

“Yes, ten years,” she said. “But I’m not likely to ever

forget it. I was with Silvara and Gilthanas . . . and Flint.

Dear old Flint.” She sighed and brushed her hand across

her cheek.

I felt a snuffle coming on, so I kept behind the tree

until I could choke it back down. I heard Tanis clear his

throat. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and moved

closer to Caramon. Their horses were nose to nose and

almost nose to nose with me.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Tanis said quietly. “I

tried to talk her out of coming, but she insisted. Damn

knights. Polishing up their armor and their memories of

glory from ten years ago, hoping that people will

remember the battle of the High Clerist’s Tower and forget

the Sacking of Throtl.”

Caramon blinked. “Was Throtl really? – ”

“Don’t exaggerate, Tanis,” said Laurana briskly,

riding up to join them. “And don’t worry about me. It’s

good to be reminded of those who have gone before us,

who wait for us at the end of our long journey. My

memories of my dear friends aren’t bitter. They don’t make

me unhappy, only sad. It is our loss, not theirs.” Her eyes

went to Caramon as she spoke.

The big man smiled, nodded his head in silent

understanding. He was thinking of Raistlin. I know

because I was thinking of Raistlin, too, and some fog got

into my eyes and made them go all watery. I thought about

what Caramon had put on the little stone marker he set up

in Solace in Raistlin’s honor.

ONE GRANTED PEACE FOR HIS SACRIFICE. ONE WHO

SLEEPS, AT REST. IN ETERNAL NIGHT.

Tanis scratched his beard. (His beard has little streaks

of gray in it now. It looks quite distinguished.) He looked

frustrated.

“You’ll see what I mean when we get there. The

knights have gone to all this trouble and expense, and I

don’t think it’s going to help matters. People don’t live in

the past. They live in the present. That’s what counts now.

The knights need to do something to bolster our faith in

them now, not remind us of what they were ten years ago.

Some are beginning to say it was all wizard’s work back

then anyway. Gods and magic.” He shook his head. “I

wish we could forget the past and get on with the future.”

“But we should remember the past, honor it,” said

Caramon, actually managing to finish a complete

sentence. He wouldn’t have managed that – Tanis was so

worked up – only Tanis had been forced to stop talking by

a sneeze. “If people are divided now, then it seems that we

should remind them of a time they came together.”

“If it would do that, it might be of some worth,” Tanis

muttered, sniffing. He was searching through his pockets,

probably for a handkerchief. He’s quite careless about

losing things. I know because I was holding onto his pack

at the time.

Here’s how it happened that I had his pack. I had

stepped out from behind the tree, ready to surprise him. I

caught hold of the pack, which had been tied (not very

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