His uncle, Raistlin, had been the greatest wizard ever to have lived. He had taken the Black Robes of Evil and challenged the Queen of Darkness herself, intending to rule the world. An attempt that ended in his death. Though Palin wore the White Robes of Good, he knew that there were those in the Order who did not trust him and who, perhaps, never would. He carried his uncle's staff — the powerful Staff of Magius, given to him under mysterious circumstances in the Tower of High Sorcery at Palanthas. Rumors were already buzzing among the Conclave as to how Palin could have acquired the Staff. It had, after all, been locked in a room sealed with a powerful curse. No, whatever he accomplished, Palin knew deep within himself, he would accomplish as his uncle had — studying, working, and fighting alone.
But that was in the future. For the time being, he supposed, he must be content to travel with his brothers. His father, Caramon, who, with his own twin brother, Raistlin, had been a hero in the War of the Lance, was adamant on that point. Palin had never been out in the world. He'd been sheltered by his books, immersed in his studies. If he went on this journey to Sancrist, he was to submit to Tanin's authority, placing himself under his brothers' guidance and pro tection.
Palin swore a sacred oath to his father to obey his brothers, just as Tanin and Sturm swore to protect him. In point of fact, their deep love and affection for each other made the oath superfluous — as Caramon knew. But the big man was also wise enough to know that this first outing together would put a strain on brotherly love. Palin, the more intelligent of the brothers, was eager to prove himself
eager to the point of foolhardiness.
"Palin has to learn the worth of other people, to respectthem for what they know, even if they're not as quick thinking as he is," Caramon said to himself, remembering with regret the twin who had never learned that lesson. "And Sturm and Tanin have to learn to respect him, to realize that they can't solve every problem with a whack of their swords. Above all, they've got to leam to depend on each other!" The big man shook his head. "May the gods go with them," he muttered.
He was never to know the irony of that prayer.
It appeared, at the beginning of the journey, that none of these lessons was going to be learned easily. The two older boys had decided privately (certainly not mentioning this to their father) that this trip was going to "make a man" of their scholarly sibling.
But their views as to what constituted «manhood» didn't accord with Palin's. In fact, as far as he could see, "being a man" meant living with fleas, bad food, worse ale, and women of dubious character. Something Palin considered pointing out when Tanin muttered, "Act like a man!" out of the corner of his mouth as he and Palin entered the inn.
But Palin kept his mouth shut. He and his brothers were entering a strange inn, located in what was reputedly a rough part of Sancrist. The young mage had learned enough to know that their very lives might depend on presenting a unified front to the world.
This the brothers, despite their differences, managed quite successfully. So successfully, in fact, that they had met with no trouble whatsoever on the long trip northward from Solace. The two older brothers were big and brawny, having inherited Caramon's girth and strength. Experienced campaigners, they bore their battle scars proudly and wore their swords with practiced ease. The youngest, Palin, was tall and well-built, but it was the slender body of one accustomed to study rather than to wielding weapons. Any who might consider him an easy mark, however, could look into the young man's handsome, serious face, note the intense, penetrating gaze of the clear eyes, and think twice about interfering with him.
The Staff of Magius that Palin carried might have had something to do with this as well. Made of plain wood, adorned with a faceted crystal held fast in a dragon's claw made of gold, the staff gave no outward, visible sign of being magical. But there was a kind of dark, unseen aura around it, perhaps associated with its late master, that viewers invariably perceived with a sense of uneasiness. Palin kept the staff near him, always. If he wasn't holding it, the staff rested near him, and he often reached out to touch it reassuringly.
This night as on other nights, the sight of Tanin and Palin entering the inn did not particularly impress those within, except for one party. Seated at a grubby booth in a comer, this group immediately began to jabber among themselves, whispering and pointing. The whispering increased, growing even more excited, when Sturm came in and joined his brothers. Several members of the group nudged a figure who was sitting nearest the wall, his face hidden in deep shadows.
"Aye, I see, I see!" grumbled the figure. "You think they'll do, do you?"
The others at the table nodded and chattered among themselves enthusiastically. Smaller than the figure in the shadows, they were just as hidden. Muffled to the eyebrows in brown robes, their features and even their hands and feet were indistinguishable.
The figure in the corner gave the young men a shrewd, appraising scrutiny. The brown-robed creatures continued to jabber. "Shut up, you buggers," the figure growled irritably. "You'll attract their notice."
Those in the brown robes immediately hushed, falling into a silence so deep they might have all tumbled into a well. Naturally, this startling silence caused everyone in the common room of the inn to turn and stare at them, including the three young men.
"Now you've done it!" snarled the figure from the shadows. Two of the brown-robed creatures hung their heads, though a third seemed inclined to argue. "Be quiet! I'll handle this!" said the figure, getting to his feet.
Leaning forward into the light, he gave the three young men an amiable smile from the depths of a full, glossy black beard and, raising his mug, said cheerfully, "Dougan Redhammer, at your service, young gents. Will you take a drink with an old dwarf?"
"That we will, and with pleasure," Tanin said politely.
"Let me out," grunted the dwarf to the brown-robed creatures, who were so packed into the booth it was impossible to tell how many of them there might have been. With much groaning and swearing and "ouch, that's my foot, you widget-brain" and "mind my beard, gear-head," the dwarf emerged — somewhat flushed and panting — from the back of the booth. Carrying his mug and calling for the innkeep to bring "my private stock," Dougan approached the table where the young men were seated.
The others in the inn, sailors and local residents for the most part, returned to their own conversations — the subjects of which appeared to Palin to be of a sinister nature, judging from the grim and ill-favored expressions on their faces. They had not welcomed the brothers, nor did they seem interested in either the dwarf or his companions. Several cast scowling glances at Dougan Redhammer. This didn't disconcert the dwarf in the least. Pulling up a high stool that compensated for his short stature, the stout and flashily dressed (at least for a dwarf) Dougan plopped himself down at the brothers' table.
"What'll you have, gentlemen?" asked the dwarf. "The spirits of my people? Ah, you're men of taste! There's nothing better than the fermented mushroom brew of Thorbardin."
Dougan grinned at the brothers expansively as the innkeeper shuffled to the table, carrying three mugs in his hand. Putting these down, he thumped a large clay bottle stoppered with a cork down in front of the dwarf. Dougan pulled the cork, inhaling the fumes with a gusty sigh of contentment that caused Sturm's mouth to water in anticipation.
"Aye, that's prime," said the dwarf in satisfaction. "Hand your mugs round, gents. Don't be shy. There's plenty for all and more where this came from. I don't drink with strangers, though, so tell me your names."