come out of his fit.
“You knew the truth, Sir!” said Lord Gunthar,
scowling.
“I came to know the truth – for myself. But how could
I know it for any other? That was what I told myself and
what I believed until. . . until. . .” He glanced at his son.
“Until I became a knight,” said Gwynfor.
“Yes, my son.” Owen sighed, and stroked his
moustaches that were extremely long now, though they
weren’t red so much as mostly gray. “I saw you with the
lance in your hand and I saw again the lance – the first
lance I threw – shatter and fall to pieces in front of my
foe. How could I let you go to battle the evil in this world,
knowing as I did that the weapon on which your life
depended was plain, ordinary? And how could I tell you?
How could I destroy your faith?”
“The faith you feared to destroy in your son was not in
the dragonlance, but in yourself, wasn’t it, Sir Knight?”
Lady Crysania asked, her sightless eyes turning to see
him.
“Yes, Revered Daughter,” answered Owen. “I know
that now, listening to the kender’s story. Which,” he
added, his mouth twisting, “wasn’t precisely the way it all
happened.”
Tanis eyed me sternly.
“It was so, too!” I said, but I said it under my breath.
My topknot didn’t appear to be going anywhere for the
time being and I intended to keep it that way.
“It was my faith that faltered the first time,” Owen
said. “The second, my heart and my aim held true.”
“And so will mine, father,” said Gwynfor Glendower.
“So will mine. You have taught me well.”
Gwynfor threw his arms around his father. Owen
hugged his son close, which must have been hard to do
with all the armor they were wearing, but they managed.
Lord Gunthar thought at first he was going to keep being
mad, but then, the more he thought about it, the more I
guess he decided he wouldn’t. He went over to Owen and
they shook hands and then they put their arms around each
other.
Laurana went to get Theros, who’d walked out of the
room, you remember. He was awfully gruff and grim
when he first came back, as if he thought everyone was
going to yell at him or something. But he relaxed quite a
bit when he saw that Owen was walking around and
smiling, and that we were all smiling, even Lord Gunthar –
as much as he ever smiles, which is mostly just a twitch
around the moustaches.
They decided to go on with the ceremony of the
Forging of the Lance, but it wasn’t going to be a “public
spectacle” as Tanis put it, when he thought Lord Gunthar
wasn’t listening. It was going to be a time for the knights
to rededicate themselves to honor and courage and
nobility and self-sacrifice. And now it would have more
meaning than ever.
“Are you going to tell them the truth about the
lances?” Laurana asked.
“What truth?” asked Lord Gunthar and for a moment
he looked as crafty and cunning as Fizban. Then he
smiled. “No, I’m not. But I am going to urge Owen
Glendower to tell his story to them.”
And with that he and Owen and Gwynfor left (Owen
said good-bye to me very politely) and went down to
Huma’s Tomb, where all the other knights were getting
ready to fast and pray and rededicate themselves.
“His story!” I said to Tanis, and I must admit I was a
bit indignant. “Why it’s my story and Fizban’s story just as
much as it is Owen’s story.”
“You’re absolutely right, Tas,” said Tanis seriously.
One thing I do like about Tanis is that he always takes me
seriously. “It is your story. You have my permission to go
down into Huma’s Tomb and tell your side of it. I’m
certain that Lord Gunthar would understand.”
“I’m certain he better,” I said loftily.
I was about to go down to Huma’s Tomb, because I
was afraid Owen would leave out a lot of the very best
parts, only about then Caramon came up to us.