©2002 Wizards of the Coast. Used with permission.

From Linsha Majere’s Personal Journal.
9th day of Reapember, 26SC

I am Linsha Majere, Knight of the Rose. I am the daughter of Palin Majere, the man who brought sorcery back to the world when mages thought it lost. I am the granddaughter of Caramon Majere, one of the heroes who prevented the Dark Queen from claiming dominion over Krynn during the War of the Lance. I am a Rose Knight, the guardian of two thousand years of tradition. These legacies intimidate me some days, and in my darkest moments I fear I will never be able to live up to them, particularly in light of how I have been called to serve the Orders of the Knighthood.

 I serve under Lady Knight Karine Thasally in a clandestine Circle in the city of Sanction. Like all other Knights there, I live a lie, but it is a lie I am uncomfortable with. I want to bring honor to my family name as my parents and grandparents did before me. It is not enough to have become the only non-Solamnian female to be admitted to the Order of the Rose. I want to show I am worthy of my family name, and some days I want it so bad, it hurts. On those days, I am willing to do almost anything, take any chances that don’t violate the Measure or endanger the security of my hidden Circle. After all, if I spend my time in service hiding behind a facade of being a foul-mouthed alley-basher of loose morals named Lynn of Gateway, the chance to live up to the legacy of the Majeres may never present itself. Of course, such a preoccupation with glory is in conflict with the Measure, but it’s very difficult for me to not succumb to the feeling that serving just isn’t enough.

 And that’s why I’ve started this journal. It isn’t so biographers can someday “get the story right” as my grandfather so frequently says when lamenting that none of his now-famous friends kept consistent journals (and that now there are hundreds of bards telling their life stories in as many different ways). No, I am keeping this journal in the hopes that it will find its way into the library of Castle uth Wistan along with other journals. But, rather than serving as a record of my great deeds—although I hope to have some of those to record as well, if Lady Karine doesn’t find I have committed violations of the Measure so gross that I am to be cast out of the Knighthood—the purpose of this journal will be to record my mistakes. It is my hope that as I write of them and reflect upon them, I also will learn from them, and that other young Knights may learn as well. Maybe they will avoid making the same errors I have.

 Then again, maybe not. Everyone’s been in situations where they look back and realize they were too cocky or just willfully ignorant of the facts staring them in the face all along. Sometimes we do it because of love, sometimes we do it because of ambition, and sometimes we do it out of inexperience.

 I should feel blessed I made it this far and experienced only one such situation. I should feel doubly blessed that I still live so that I can use the experience to not make the mistake again, whether it was borne of ambition or inexperience. Certainly, love was furthest from any possible motivation I might have had to do what I did, consciously or subconsciously.

 It occurs to me that the very purpose that I see in this journal may be against the Measure. Is it too prideful of me to assume that someday a young initiate as I once was might read these words and thus be warned about the folly of overconfidence that almost cost me my life? No, I don’t think so. After all, I got the idea from Gilthanas of Qualinesti, one of the celebrated Heroes of the Lance. Despite what many believe, he was still alive as of the very morning I started this journal. In fact, his words inspired me to start it, and it was his words that made me realize that even when things seem the darkest, there is always hope.

 The events that led me to where I am now—sitting by a stream several days ride north of Sanction while my horse Windcatcher waters herself and I wait for my wounds to heal well enough for me to ride again—started a little over three weeks ago at the Broken Horn, a particularly rowdy tavern in the very rowdy city of Sanction. Unlike many other Sanction taverns, though, the mood at the Broken Horn was generally a friendly one, in some ways not unlike the inn my grandparents run in the Abanasinian tree town of Solace. That night, things were particularly friendly. I was playing dice with several other regulars, and we were exchanging good-natured barbs—I being the most crude, because that’s what everyone expects of Lynn—and I think the general cordial atmosphere probably contributed to my lapse in judgment.

 I had just cleared 12 silver off the table when Lonar entered the pub. Ever since I first met him, I’d felt there was something different about Lonar. He was more handsome that the average scum dwelling in Sanction, and I’d seen him conduct himself with honor on more than one occasion. Once, he stepped into a fight involving a minotaur and a boy barely old enough to even lift the sword he was carrying—and then saw to it that the child was put on his way back to the village he’d come from: Sanction was not the place for kids in search of adventure. Many others would have saved the boy from the minotaur and then sold him into slavery.

 I’d also enjoyed several conversations with him, about topics ranging from which nation produces the best blades to whether there is any link between the arrival of the Great Dragons and the final departure of the gods, and even more esoteric philosophical topics ... although in the latter type of conversations, I always guarded myself. Lynn isn’t exactly known as a scholar, and if I was to start discussing things from the point of view of the ideals held either by the Knights of the Solamnia or by Goldmoon’s mystics, I feared I would raise suspicions. So, I instead just used a series of bastardized Khurish arguments about Fate and a chosen champion that come and drive evil from the land. Whenever Lonar would push me on my ideas, I’d resort to insults rather than reason or admitting my theories were unsound. I felt awful having to pass myself off as so unknowledgeable in philosophy or so ignorant of even the basest standards of intellectual discourse, but I had appearances to think about.

 Still, I wanted Lonar to at least like me, so I tried not to be too offensive. He seemed like a decent man, and he was well read and knowledgeable. I also thought he had a nice smile. The only fault I could see in him was that he was one of Hogan Bight’s top men ... and I only found this a fault because part of me wanted him to be better than that. His service to the shady, mysterious lord of Sanction also guaranteed that whatever friendship we might forge would be forever based on false pretext. How could I ever reveal that, although I genuinely liked Lonar, I also made an effort to befriend him because my mission in Sanction was to discern the goals and motivations of his master? I had on more than one occasion worried about whether deceiving someone I thought to be an upstanding person for my own ends was against the Measure. When I used the mystic abilities I was taught by Goldmoon to examine the nature of soul and found that he was only slightly more tainted with Evil than some of my fellow Knights, those concerns grew even greater. Each time I considered them, though, I came to the conclusion that as long as took steps to protect Lonar from physical harm (should the Circle move against Bight on information I’d obtained from him), there was no dishonor in deceiving him.

 At least no more dishonor than the lie I live in Sanction might be.

 That night, Lonar had come to the Broken Horn for only one purpose. He paused just inside the doorway, scanning the crowded common room. His eyes came to rest on me. He pushed his way through the crowd. “Can we talk, Lynn? Outside?”

 “Sure,” I replied. The other players scowled at me as I left the table. I gave them a sweet smile. “Sorry boys. I’ll let you win your money back some other night.”

 As Lonar and I walked up the street, he said, “I hear you’ve been asking around for work that’s a bit more respectable than the alley-bashing and gambling you’ve been doing.”

 I shrugged. “Maybe. So long as the pay’s good.”

 “The pay’s good. The pay comes from Lord Hogan.”

 My heart skipped a beat and my spirit soared. My effort to be friendly toward Lonar and to seem capable whenever he was around was paying off! I kept a calm facade, though. “Lord Hogan? What would Lord Hogan want with me?”

 “Nothing, but I could use an extra sword on an expedition on his behalf. It’ll take us through ogre territory and into Neraka. Would that be a problem?”
 “I can outrun ogres, and I’ve not met a Dark Knight who scared me yet.”

 “Brave as ever, alley cat?” He grinned. “I’ll pay you 50 steel coins right now. The balance depends on the outcome of our expedition. I’ll provide food and fodder, but you need to provide your own horse. Still interested?”

 “Definitely. Windcatcher needs some real exercise,” I replied. “Plus, 50 steel is more money than I’ve made this entire month so far. What’s the nature of the expedition?”

 “I’ll tell you once we’re underway.” He hesitated, looking at me up and down, not lasciviously, but rather in an appraising fashion. “You're probably going to be the only woman in our group.”

 “You know what I do if someone gets grabby” I replied, patting the dagger on my belt. “But if they keep to themselves, I’ll do the same.”
 Lonar flashed me a brilliant smile, one that made him appear even more handsome. He handed me a pouch of coins. “We leave at dawn. Wait at the mouth of the eastern pass.”

 After Lonar departed, I went to notify Lady Karine of my good fortune. As she was the leader of the Circle, it was only right that I inform her of my imminent departure, but I was also hoping for some advice, for she is far more experienced than I am. She was not in, however, and her squire did not know where to reach her. After what I now know was too little consideration, I thought I could handle the situation without any advice from Lady Karine, and I felt confident that she wouldn’t have forbade me to undertake this journey. There was no reason for Lonar to believe I was anything but what I appeared to be, and even if there was some sort of setup going on here, I had yet to encounter anyone in Sanction who was my equal with a sword. I felt that as long as I kept my guard up, I would be fine. I felt confident that Lady Karine would agree. So, I left a message with the squire and went back to my quarters to prepare and get a few hours sleep.

 The following morning, Windcatcher and I were the first to arrive. Shortly, Lonar arrived with four other men, bringing our number to six. He also had two pack mules in tow. I only recognized one of the men, a lecher by the name of Kresh. Fortunately, as far as I went, Kresh always had been all talk and no action. He had seen what happened to men who tried to force themselves on me.

 “Introduce yourselves if you wish,” Lonar said. “As far as I’m concerned, all you need to know about each other is that you’re all capable fighters who are able to hold your own in battle.”

 The four strangers made no attempts at pleasantries. Kresh looked me up and down, as if he could see straight through my armor and cloak. “Lynn and I already know each other,” he said. “But who knows? Maybe we’ll have a chance to get closer on the road.”

 “Careful, Kresh,” I replied. “If you get closer than a sword’s length, you might impale yourself.”

 One of the strangers, a man of swarthy complexion that revealed a Khurish heritage, found this more amusing than I would have thought possible. After he finished guffawing, he said in heavily accented Solamnian, “I like a woman with spirit.”

 We rode all day through the eastern pass from Sanction, stopping only twice to allow our steeds to rest. As we camped that first night, Lonar finally revealed our destination. “Some of you may have heard of the Valley of Crystal. That’s where we’re headed. We’re going to fill the packs we empty of food with crystals and deliver them to Lord Hogan. Any questions?”

 “Yeah,” I said, “How is our balance going to be calculated?”

 “You’ll all get an equal share of ten percent of the value of the crystals we bring back, as appraised by Lord Hogan.”

 I shrugged. “Sounds fine.”

 The men thought so too.

 The next few days were uneventful, except for lewd comments and verbal sparring between Kresh and me and belly laughs from the Khur. Lonar spent some time quizzing me about my travels beyond Sanction, placing particular emphasis on the area around the New Sea and Schallsea. At the time, I didn’t suspect that it was anything but conversation on his part. After all, he originally hailed from Caergoth, and I believed that he was trying to see if we perhaps had visited the same places. Now I know that he was thinking thoughts that are far more sinister.

 We were two days away from the Valley of Crystal when the ambush occurred. We were traveling through a particularly narrow pass when three Khurish men stepped out from behind rocks. “Your money or your life!” one exclaimed.

 “‘Your money or your life?!’” exclaimed the man who found Kresh and I amusing. “What manner of bandits say such foolishness?”

 “Serious ones,” replied the speaker. He barked a word in Khur, and three arrows, two of which ripped through his throat, cut down our jolly companion.
 Lonar let out a roar and spurred his horse forward, drawing his sword. The three men in front of us reacted with surprise, having clearly assumed their demonstration would subdue us rather than enrage us. Kresh and I were the only ones who reacted similarly, and arrows felled one more of the strangers; a single one tore harmlessly through my cloak.

 I spurred Windcatcher forward, but leaped from her back only a ledge on the side of the canyon. She was trained well enough that she would gallop until clear of the battle area and stop to await my return.

 I scaled the wall swiftly, mentally thanking both my grandparents and the mystics at the Citadel of Light who had let me scamper like a monkey first through the trees of Solace and later up and down the cliffs of Schallsea. I reached the top where the archers were, finding that they were still focused on the killing my companions down below. I slowly drew my sword and dagger. Then I cleared my throat.

 One archer turned and I flung my dagger at him. It lodged in his neck and he went down with a strangled cry as I closed on his four companions. They dropped their bows and drew the wickedly curved blades the Khurish warriors were known for.

 I ducked under a wild swing by the lead warrior and, as we engaged, stabbed my attacker in the belly. I withdrew my weapon swiftly, slashing another foe's leg before retreating out of sword range. He fell to the ground, screaming with pain.

The last two Khurish bandits attacked together, one coming from the left and the other from the right. I backed swiftly away, drawing my second dagger as I did. I used it to block a swing from the left foe  and swumg my sword at his neck. The blow connected and he stumbled backwards, his head partially severed, his limbs twitching as he fell with a fountain of blood issuing from the wound.

 The final warrior and I circled for a couple of moments. The screams of the man I had hobbled faded to moans and whimpers. My one remaining foe suddenly rushed me. I parried two of his blows, then he overextended himself with a lunge, and I dove toward his open side. My sword punched through his chain mail. He coughed up blood before falling limply to the hard, dusty ground.

 The whimpers behind me suddenly went silent. I whirled to see Lonar standing there, his sword deep in the back of the Khur I had wounded. A bow and arrow lay in the Khur’s still-twitching hands. “You left this one alive, alley cat. And he almost got you. Lonar to the rescue.”

 I set my face in a mocking expression and raised my sword in a salute. “Very gallant of you, Sir Knight, but I could have handed it.”

  He gave me an odd smile that I now know was born of suspicion, but at the time, I thought nothing of it. He said, “Based on that display, I’d say you’re being wasted in Sanction. You should be leading the life of a sell-sword.”

 “Maybe you can put in a good word with Lord Hogan,” I replied, wiping my sword on a dead enemy. He nodded, clapping me on the shoulder.
 We climbed down into the canyon. The four strangers were all dead. Kresh saw this as a good thing—more for him and me to split at the end, and more mounts to carry out crystals.

 “Only if we don’t run into more trouble,” I said.

 The rest of the trip was uneventful. We spent a day burying the Khur and the strangers. I struggled to hold my tongue as Kresh looted the bodies. I looted one myself to keep up appearances, but as soon as I return to Sanction, I’m going to arrange to have the items sent to the Citadel of Light as a donation.

 Late in the second day after the ambush, we spotted rays of colors dancing in the blue sky. I pointed them out, commenting both on their beautiful and bizarre nature.

 “Seen ’em,” Kresh said. “Wasn’t impressed the first time. Ain’t impressed now.”

 “Those are reflection from the valley,” Lonar said in a more conversational tone. “And while those lights may be pretty, they’d burn your eyes out if you were to enter the valley right now. We’re going to camp near the entrance and only enter the valley after sundown.”

 We reached the valley, and I saw a small sample of what Lonar meant. A narrow canyon led from our campsite to the Valley of Crystal, and in it danced sheets of colored light so bright that I saw spots for minutes after looked at it. Lonar and Kresh both found that amusing.

 The sun set as we established camp. As Kresh was building a fire pit, Lonar and I went to the valley to gather the first batch of crystals. We took only saddlebags because, Lonar explained, the crystals were sharper than razors and would slice through less sturdy containers. Even in the moonlight, the valley was awash with colors, making it one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. The crystals stretched for as far as the eye could see, covered in undulating waves of colors.

 “This is amazing,” I said, my breath stolen by awe.

 “People say the Chaos God touched this place,” Lonar said. “Lord Hogan wants to gather crystals for research and to pay the ogres so they don’t side with the Dark Knights. There are ogre shamans who want these things very badly. Why, we’re not certain.”

 We gathered crystals for about two hours, until each of us had filled two sets of saddlebags. By the end, my leather gloves had been reduced to tatters, and I had several small cuts on my hands.

 Back at camp, Kresh had built a large fire pit. I offered to water the horses. Kresh said there wasn’t any water within 50 miles of the valley, so the horses would have to do with only a little until we were ready to leave.

 “That’s no good,” I said. “The horses can’t go too long without water.”

 “If we work hard, we may be able to gather enough crystals to be on the way back tomorrow,” Lonar said, retrieving a whetstone from his pack. “The horses will be fine for that long.”

 I agreed with him, but still spent some extra time on Windcatcher, talking to her and thoroughly brushing her down. When I rejoined Lonar and Kresh at the crackling blaze, I suggested that they should tend to their own horses. “It’s bad enough we won’t be able to water them until with leave the valley. They’ll serve you much better if you treat them right.”

 “Really?” Lonar said, cocking an eyebrow. “And where did an alley cat such as yourself learn that?”

 “On the road between Lemish and Sanction. One of the men guarding the caravan was a Khur. You know how they are with horses. They eat on them, sleep on them, and they know how to get the most out them. A horse that is brushed and rubbed down after a day’s ride will out-perform a horse that’s been treated like a pair of wooden shoes and just left by the door.”

 Lonar stopped sharpening his sword. “You may be right, little alley cat,” he said. He got to his feet and did that interesting little twirl with this sword he usually did just before sheathing it. Only this time he didn’t. He just rested the blade against his right shoulder as he walked around the fire and behind me.
 “I ain’t rubbing down no horse,” Kresh said. “That’s not a job for a warrior. If you ask me, that’s woman’s work.”

 “Good thing I’m an alley cat,” I said, taking a piece of dried meat for myself.

 Lonar laughed behind me. “I think we might have been friends you and I, under different circumstances.”

 Pain exploded in the back of my neck, as Lonar struck with what must have been the pommel of his sword. I fell forward as the world seemed to go white. Before my vision cleared, my training as a Knight of Solamnia caused me to instinctively struggle to my knees and start drawing my sword. Then I was kicked hard in the stomach. Even instinct was swept away as I collapsed to the ground.

 Lost in a haze of pain, I felt strong hands grasping me and throwing me against one of the boulders. As I struggled to recover my breath, I heard my sword being drawn from its sheath. It clattered against the stones somewhere, and the hands grabbed me again and pulled me into a sitting position with my back against the boulder. Then something tore through the haze of pain: The feeling of cold steel against my neck, followed by warm breath on my right ear. “This is where the game ends, alley cat,” Lonar whispered.

 The world snapped back into focus. The pain became sharper than before, and as Lonar moved back a bit to lock his blue eyes with mine, I saw his face in far greater detail than I ever had before. His chiseled features, the beard that was coming in strong after our time on the road, the small wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes as he smiled at me, and the coldness in his eyes. I now realized that the charm and warmth of his smile had been purely superficial and that it had hidden a dark soul, just as I hid my true nature behind the facade of Lynn. Fighting back both fear and pain, I managed to say, “What’s going on Lonar? Why are you doing this?”

 “You might be able to fool the riffraff at the Broken Horn, but you’re not good enough to fool Lonar Hiddel.”

 “I don’t know what—”

 He silenced me by pressing the blade harder against my throat and shushing me. “No more lies, little alley cat. No more lies. I grant you, you’re good. Isn’t she, Kresh?”

 “That remains to be seen,” Kresh said.

 “Always thinking with his loins that Kresh,” Lonar said with a sigh. “Suffice to say, dear Lynn, he thought you were just another sword-wielding wench in britches. It wasn’t until we ran into those bandits that he saw what I saw the first time I saw you brawling in Sanction.”
 “So I can fight. I had to learn how. I—”

 “Yes, yes. Spare me the sob story. You were taken away by slavers but escaped and a kindly man taught how to use a sword ... or maybe your father never got a son, so he taught you how to fight, but before you could inherit the bandit empire he’d built, Knights of Takhisis wiped it out. Are either of those close?”
 “I have no idea what your problem is, Lonar.”

 He slapped me. I tasted blood in my mouth. His smile widened and his eyes grew colder. “No more meowing. My ‘problem,’ dear, is that you are too good with that sword to be just another wench in britches. You are too good at fighting, period. I’ve been watching you. And I’ve been doing a little bit of checking up on you. For a supposed alley-basher, you don’t seem to rack up many victims. You gamble, you brawl..., but you spend little time lurking in alleys and waiting for drunks. Why is that? It’s a lot quicker than dice games.

 “And when you brawl. Hmm. I think you try to hide it, but you just can’t. When it comes to the martial arts, you are simply too good.” He grabbed my chin in his hand and leaned closer, putting his face inches from mine. “You’re no common rogue, Lynn, no matter how hard you try to pass yourself off as one. But who are you? Certainly, no Knight of Solamnia would be so rude, nor would she ever allow the kind of dishonor to befall her that you engage in nightly. No, there is only one type of person you can possibly be.”

 His eyes grew even colder as he said, “So, what Order are you a member of? The Lily or the Skull?”

 So startled was I by his assumption that I couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t understand the nervous reaction and slapped me again. He drove a knee into my stomach, twice. Each time, I spasmed forward, but Lonar slammed his free hand against my chest, forcing me back against the stone.

 “This is not a laughing matter, Lady Lynn,” he snarled. I vomited forth the bit of dried meat I had eaten, then alternately dry-heaved and tried to catch my breath. “This is your death, and it can be a painful one. What. Order. Are. You. With?”

 “Please,” I moaned. I’m not ashamed to admit that once the spasms from the blows to my stomach subsided, I started shaking with fear. “I’m not a Knight of Takhisis. You’ve got it all wrong.”

 “Have I?” He pushed the tip of his stiletto harder against my neck. I felt the warm trickle of blood as he penetrated the skin.

 “Yes,” I whispered. “In the name Paladine, I swear I am not a Dark Knight.”

 “In the name of Paladine? Paladine?! Are you trying to make me think you’re a Knight of Solamnia?!” He laughed. “What do you think, Kresh? Could our little alley cat be a Knight who has lost her shining armor?”

 “Too skinny,” Kresh said. “And too good-looking. Ain’t never been a good-looking woman Knight. That’s why they put on that armor in the first place first place.

 “I’m a Knight of Solamnia,” I said, my words spilling forward swiftly before reason stopped them. Fear of death and the sting of the insults they were heaping upon me had become too much to bear. “I’m a Knight of the Rose! I really am! I spit on the memory of Lord Ariakan and I spit on the scaly hide of Takhisis! I came to Sanction on a special assignment from Grand Master Liam Ehrling. My mission is to investigate the activities of your master, Hogan Bight, but I’m not really your enemy as the Dark Knights are. The Orders just want to know what he’s up to, but he wouldn’t deal with them! I’m not a Dark Knight!”

 Revealing my rank with the Orders may be a violation of my vows. I will make sure I put an emphasis on this act when I submit my report to Lady Karine. I did not violate the Measure by leaving Sanction without her permission or knowledge, but revealing myself as a Knight to someone who is not a member of the Orders is in all likelihood a grave offense.

 It doesn’t matter that it didn’t do me any good.

 Lonar cocked his head, and his eyes still coldly glared. “A Rose Knight? You?! You must take me for an idiot, Lady Lynn! Why didn’t you just go ahead and spin a lie about being a personal emissary from the Emperor of Ergoth who wants to take a peek at Lord Hogan’s forces from the inside to see if we’re worthy of military aid.”

 “I’m telling the truth,” I said.

 He regarded me for a moment, looking thoughtful. The stiletto remained painfully at my throat, still digging past my skin. Suddenly, he said: “What is the 68th point of the Measure?”

 I blinked “What?”

 “The 68th point. What is the 68th point? If you’re a Rose Knight, you know it.”

 “There aren’t 68 points in the Measure,” I replied, “not anymore. Grand Masters Gunthar and Liam revised it years ago.”

 “Then we’re an impasse. My father was once a Knight. He got thrown out before I was born, but he made me memorize the main points and standards outlined in the Measure because he thought it was a good code to live by. I think he was right to do so. Some of them make a lot of sense. And if you could have told me what the 68th point was, I might have let you live to present proof of your affiliation. But now, I just think it’s a trap.

 “At any rate, Rose Knights don’t fraternize with lowlifes of the sort found in Saction's lower city. Rose Knights have more pride than that.” A new tone had crept into his voice, a tone that struck an even deeper fear in me than before.

 Kresh heard it too. Rising to his feet, he said, “You’re not just gonna kill her?”

 “That was the general idea,” Lonar callously replied.

 “That’d be a waste. Let me have some fun first.”

 Lonar shrugged and struck me on the forehead with the hilt of his stiletto, causing the back of my head to slam against the rock. I finally lost consciousness. When the world swam back into focus, the stench of Kresh’ unwashed body filled my nose. I had been pulled away from the rocks and was flat on my back. The stars swam brightly in the heaven. Someone was tugging at the strings of my breeches. I heard Lonar say, “Don’t let her scream. I hate it when women scream.”

 Kresh laughed, and I realized that he had been struggling with my breeches. “You’re awake. Great. I wouldn’t want to miss the last and greatest thrill of your life!” He slapped me hard across the face, and then started struggling with my breeches again.

 “Just cut them off,” Lonar sighed from somewhere nearby. “She’s not going to need them again.”

 My head cleared as a different kind of terror flooded my being. Not only was I going to die here, but also they were going to take away every shred of dignity I possessed before they killed me. I had completely misjudged Lonar. I had been taken in by good looks, charm, and the fact that he was less tainted with evil than many of Sanction’s residents.

 As I was preparing to embark upon the mission to Sanction, I was attacked by a fellow Knight who felt that because I wasn’t of Solamnic heritage, I didn’t deserve to be Rose Knight. I showed that animal and the rest of the Orders that Linsha Majere had the honor and skill it took to be Rose Knight. I didn’t let that Knight take away my dignity then, and I wasn’t going to let this cretin take it away from me now.

 “I guess you’re right,” Kresh said. “I can’t undo the cursed knot she used.”

 “Please, Kresh,” I whispered. “If I cooperate, will you let me live? I don’t want to die. Please”

 He grinned at me and ran his tongue over his crooked teeth. “Sure. Maybe I’ll decide you’re too valuable to kill,” he whispered back, leaning close.

 I kissed his unshaven cheek and he returned a putrid kiss on my mouth as I ran my hands down his back and over his side, finding his waist and caressing it.
 My right hand found the dagger on his weapons belt. With my left, I started to undo the buckle, hoping he truly always did think with his loins as Lonar kept saying. Kresh didn’t disappoint.

 “Yeah,” he said. “Undo mine first ... then take care of that damned knot on yours.”

I think Kresh died more startled than in pain. I swiftly drew his dagger from his hilt and slashed his throat. He jerked backwards, his hands instinctually going this his neck to stop his life from pumping from his body. Blood poured from between his fingers and spilled upon me as I scrambled out from under him.
 Lonar was less surprised than Kresh. He rose to his feet on the far side of the campfire, drawing his sword. “You should have just laid back and taken it, alley cat,” he said in an irritated tone. “If Kresh had enjoyed himself, you might have lived a few more days.”

 “Not a good bargain,” I replied, quickly drawing Kresh’s sword from its sheath. He was twitching like a fish out of water, not quite dead yet. I kicked his hand aside as he grabbed for me. Lonar and I started to circle around his body. “Why don’t I just lay you out next to him and return to Sanction with crystals and earn Hogan Bight’s favor that way?”

 “You haven’t won yet, Lynn.” He twirled his blade as he approached. “I’m going to be hard to kill, particularly since you’re using Kresh’s inferior weapons. You and I, being real warriors, go for quality in our weapons. Kresh went for what costs the least.”

 He was right. As we circled, each of us attempting to find just the right moment at which to start combat, I noticed that the sword I was using was horribly unbalanced. I took a chance and scanned the area for my own discarded weapons, but Lonar took that as an opportunity to rush at me, swinging his blade in quick, blurring arcs.

I parried the swings that came too close, backing away from him. He was every bit the swordsman I had estimated him to be during our fight with the bandits, the same fight where he had seen through my lies. The poor weapons I was using might well have been my death.

 Our battle carried us away from the camp and into the entrance of the Valley of Crystal. The white-blue glow of the crystals beneath the moonlight reflected on Lonar’s well-honed blade, making it appear as though it might be magical. The sword I wielded was so ill-used that it remained a dull gray.

 The beating I had suffered was causing me to tire quicker than I normally would, so he managed to knock the sword from my hand with a flurry of blows. However, he left his side open while doing so. I dove forward, intending to punch the dagger through his chain mail. Instead, the blade snapped on the links. Lonar backed away from me as we both looked at the broken weapon in my hand with amazement. He checked his gut for wounds, found none, then swiftly moved between the dropped sword and me.

 “Be reasonable, Lynn. Let me know who you really are. That way, I’ll know where to send your body.”

 “I’ve told you the truth.” I backed away from him, my booted feet stumbling across the first few scattered crystals. Several of them shifted, indicating that they were loose. I took a couple more steps back. “Yeah. Let’s be reasonable. Let’s go back to Sanction together. You can bring me before Hogan Bight. Maybe he’ll believe me. I promise I’ll leave out the part of you standing by while Kresh raped me. I think Lord Hogan’s a bit more honorable than someone who would countenance such a thing.”

 “First, Lord Hogan would take my word over a Knight of Takhisis—or even a Knight of Solamnia—any day. He knows that I share his concern for keeping Sanction free from oppression by any of your dying religious orders. Lord Hogan is preparing for the future while you keep looking toward the past, at the expense of the people of Krynn. The gods have left the world to the mortals, yet you Knights—on both side of the your little squabbles—seem to have missed that entirely.”

 “The Knights of Solamnia have always been about more than service to the gods,” I said.

  He continued, ignoring me: “Second, Lord Hogan has made it clear that he doesn’t want any of you members of the so-called ‘fighting orders’ in his city—last time, you nearly created a massacre when your Dark Knights, the Knights of Solamnia, and the Legion of Steel showed how bad of guests they could be. You have nothing to say that he would want to hear. You and yours are the past.”

 “I think if your master was to actually talk to a Knight of Solamnia, he’d discover that we’ve learned from our mistakes in Sanction. I think—”

 “You never learn from your mistakes. None of you ‘Knights’ do. And I think I’ve given you enough time to come clean and to say your last words.”
 He advanced toward me. I quickly crouched and blindly scooped up a handful of crystals and dirt and flung them at his face. He screamed in pain as the crystals slashed him, and I moved for my sword. Even partially blinded, however, Lonar was able to slash at me with his sword, catching me across the breast. Although his strike didn’t penetrate my armor, it did knock me to the ground. Sharp crystals cut into the back of my legs.

 “Wench,” Lonar hissed, blinking as blood from the cuts on his forehead streamed into his left eye. He raised his sword to deliver the killing blow. I fought against my reflexes and kept my eyes open and fixed on the gleaming blade to watch the final strike as it fell. As I stared at Death in the face, I finally managed to beat back my fear. I suddenly felt calmer than I had in years. I whispered, “Paladine, please watch over my soul.”

 But the killing blow never came. Instead, Lonar suddenly jerked a half step forward, and the blade of a sword burst from his chest with a crunch of bone and a snapping of chain mail links. He coughed, and blood welled forth from his mouth and the wound on his chest. The sword retreated and he fell to the ground, twitching as life fled from his body.

“Filthy dragonarmy scum,” someone said in elven. “You will burn my forest no more.”

 Standing above Lonar’s form, holding my sword, was a figure out of legend. He appeared just as he had in Gramps’s tales—an elf with long golden locks, large blue eyes and a face so handsome that he puts even his fair race to shame. Grammy could still make Gramps jealous by describing how her heart had fluttered when she first laid eyes on Gilthanas of Qualinesti. Now that I had seen him myself, I understood why.

 “Gilthanas?” I said, still not entirely believing my eyes. He turned his large blue eyes toward me. There was a strange look in them, a look of fury. Then, his face was filled with recognition.

 “Tika!” he exclaimed. He helped me to my feet. “Tika, what you doing here? I thought you were dead!”

 That was even more surprising to me than his appearance. My parents and Gramps frequently commented on how much I resembled Grammy about the face, but surely Gilthanas had to know she was much older than I was at this point.

 “You’re wounded,” he continued, noticing the cuts on my legs. “Did that animal do that? And your hair. Did he cut off your beautiful locks?”

 From what she told me when I decided to cut mine, Grammy has worn her hair long her entire life, taking advantage of the spectacular curls that nature had gifted her with. Although I had inherited the red color she had when she was young, I had not inherited the curls. I also chose to wear my hair short because it was more comfortable when wearing a great helm.

 His question confirmed that he thought I was La-La, though. I came to question whether this was really Gilthanas. Could he just be a madman? He had a scar down one side of his face, and Grammy had never mentioned a scar. But a long time had passed since she had seen him, so long, in fact, that she and everyone else thought him dead. As I was trying to decide what to do next, I heard someone calling his name, a male.

 “Here, lean on me, Tika,” Gilthanas said. “I’m sure Tasslehoff has some bandages in his pack. We’ll fix your legs in no time.”

 “Thank you, Gilthanas.” I said. The name felt strange when I said it, somehow false. But, despite his obvious madness, how could he be anyone but Gilthanas?

 He helped me back toward the camp. Another elf came into view. “Tasslehoff,” Gilthanas cried. “Tika has been attacked by draconians! She needs our help!”

 The other elf rushed to our side, and the two of them helped me toward the camp. Once there, the second elf offered me a blanket so I could stay decent while he tended my wounds.

 “I will return to the pass,” Gilthanas said. “I don’t want any of that scum sneaking up on us.”

 “Don’t go too far,” the other elf said.

 “Your friend seems quite insane,” I said as I slowly and painfully slid out of my breeches.

 “Yes,” the elf said, looking in the direction of his fair-haired comrade. “He has been affected by a rare gnome poison. His madness is only going to get worse, and he’ll die within a few months if I don’t find a cure. Oh, I’m Lethagas, by the way. His name is Gilthanas.”

 “I thought I recognized him,” I said. “My name is—”

 I caught myself. I already had violated my oath of secrecy once that evening, under duress. I wasn’t going to do it again out of thoughtlessness.
 “—Lynn. I’m from Sanction. We came out here to gather crystals to sell them to the lord of the city. My ‘partners’ decided they were going to take something from me that I was unwilling to part with. So, they died.”

 “Rest assured, I will attempt no such thing,” Lethagas said. “Now, try to relax. This might sting a bit.”

 “Why are you two here?” I asked through gritted teeth as he poured alcohol on the back of my thighs. “You won’t find help in the middle of nowhere.”
 “I saw your fire. The griffins need rest, and I hoped that someone here might be able to help us.”

 “Your mounts will be able to rest, but as for help ... well, it’s just like an elf to look in the wilderness for something that can be found in a city.” I ended the comment with a snigger, trying to imitate the sound I had heard a trapper who frequented the Solace inn while I was a child. He was perhaps the most virulent racist I have ever met, and Lethagas seemed to pick up on my changed attitude.

 “That could be so,” he replied. “There is occasionally wisdom to be found nature. However, we did find you, a citizen of Sanction. Can you tell me of any wise men who live there? Anyone who might be able to help my friend?”

 “Fix my legs, then we’ll talk. And watch that blanket,” I replied, forcing a cold tone into my voice. I sensed Lethagas stiffen, and his ministrations became a bit less gentle.

 Even at the time, I felt I should have shown more gratitude. A legend had come to save me at a time when I didn’t really deserve saving, and had thus given me a second chance. Yet, as I thought about it, I realized the second chance meant that I had to stay true to my vows and stay in the role of Lynn for as long as I was with these elves. And that meant being as crude as I possibly could, reaching deep back into my memory for the very worst of the racial slurs I had heard from the patrons at the Inn of the Last Home to utter whenever he’d make one of my wounds hurt.

 Eventually, my behavior became too much for him to bear. “I need to get more bandages from my saddlebags,” he said, heading toward the trio of griffins that stood silhouetted against the rising moon. Moments after he left, Gilthanas appeared at my side, having arrived without making even the slightest sound. He looked appraisingly at my injured legs. “Tasslehoff did a good job,” he said.

 “Gilthanas,” I said, his name still sounding false on my tongue. I need to prove to myself that he wasn’t just some lunatic who had fooled both himself and Lethagas ... I couldn’t help but think the gods, even if they had left Krynn behind, would have rewarded Gilthanas with happiness with Silvara instead of insanity for his service during the War of the Lance. I took his hand and concentrated for a moment, focusing upon the pulsing of my heart and drawing forth the mystical powers that Goldmoon had opened up to me during the summers I spent on Schallsea.

 When I opened my eyes again, Gilthanas was looking at me expectantly, but now I also could see the bright green and blue life energy that so brightly represented his soul. I had seen a similar pattern when I had used my ability to gaze upon a person’s soul when I look at Laurana, the one time I met her. He was Gilthanas. There was no longer any doubt.

 But where the glow of his sister’s soul had been calm and soothing waves, Gilthanas’s form was surrounded by a seething and chaotic mass of colors. He was deeply, perhaps irrevocably insane.

 “Tika?” he said, noticing the sorrow that must have registered on my face at that realization. “Are you all right?”

 I held his hand tighter. “This is so unfair,” I said. “How could this be, Gilthanas? Why aren’t you with Silvara? The stories people tell of you and her ... Are they all just fantasies? Lies? Is everything ugly and grim? Can’t there ever be a happy ending?”

 He frowned at me. “Silvara? How do you know about Silvara and I?”

 The nimbus of light about him seemed to flicker out as I allowed my spell to end. With it went the last bit of hope I had been feeling. “You and she did a great service for Krynn and the children of Paladine. Why didn’t he reward you better?”

 “Tika, Tika, Tika,” he said in a slightly patronizing tone. “The gods only give mortals the rewards they deserve. Truth is, I didn’t deserve Silvara. I didn’t know what I had in her. She tried telling me, to show me, but I was too wrapped up in my foolish pride to realize it. Even after I lost her, it took me decades to realize what I had done. Now I’m trying to get her back, to earn my reward. Do you know I drove her away because she lied to me?”

 “You did?”

 “Yes, she isn’t a Kagonesti at all. She is a...” He hesitated, looking at me with a slight frown. “Wait. You’re not Tika. You look a little like her, but you can’t possibly be her. She should be much older.”

 “Yes!” I shifted excitedly, but the pain shot through my cut legs. Instead, I just clutched his hand. “I’m Tika’s granddaughter, Gilthanas. I’m Linsha Majere.”

 “Linsha? You’re how old? 18? 19? You look almost like your grandmother did when I first met her at the Inn of the Last Home. Does she live still?”
 “She’s as feisty as ever, Gilthanas. Caramon, too. But listen, your friend Lethagas told me that you’ve been poisoned. What happened?”

 “Fate,” Gilthanas said. “Fate and foolish pride. I drove Silvara away because I was too proud to admit how deeply I had fallen in love and how much her lie had wounded me. And now I’m going to waste away a lunatic without ever getting back together with her.” He looked at me sadly. “At least I got to meet you, Linsha Majere. Are you following in your grandparents’ footsteps?”

 “A little less successfully, perhaps, but I’m trying,” I replied, indicating my wounded legs.

 “Draconians will always be match for a young warrior, no matter how tough she thinks she is.” He paused again. “That was a draconian I saved you from back there, was it not?”

 I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. “Yes. A Kapak. But as far as you being insane, you seem fine now. Tell Lethagas about Silvara while you can. I’m sure he’ll help you.”

 “I have moments like this one, but they are getting rarer and shorter with each passing day. And Lethagas knows about my quest to reunite with Silvara. He’s promised to stay with me until I’ve successfully completed it. First, though, he wants to stop the poison from killing me. He’s a very sensible and loyal companion, Leth is.” He started to stroke my hair with his free hand, an absent-minded look crossing his face. “You should let your hair grow out. Your grandmother had such lovely hair.”

 “You know what I think? I think that we’ve both been granted a second chance here tonight. It was Fate that brought us all here ... Fate, or maybe even the hand of Paladine himself.” I shifted again, trying to look into his blue eyes but only managing to wince with pain. “I think that Lethagas guiding his griffins to our fire was no mistake. You were fated to save me from my attackers, so that I could have the chance to become the Knight I’ve always wanted to be. And because you saved me, I’ll be able to give you information on not just one place where you might find a cure, but two! Paladine be praised, Gilthanas, but I think that I’ll be able to help you and your silver dragon reunite!”

 “Silver dragon?”

 “Yes, you and Silvara?”

 “What are you talking about, silver dragon?” Gilthanas leapt to his feet. “Silvara is not a dragon! How dare you accuse my beloved of being a rampaging monster?!”

 I think Gilthanas might have struck me if Lethagas hadn’t returned at that very moment and dragged him off. Gilthanas didn’t regain his sanity again while I was with him and Lethagas. Instead, he fought imaginary creatures and set Lonar’s body on fire “because zombies will reanimate if you don’t!”
 It was very difficult for me to maintain the facade of Lynn during that time. I wanted to join their quest, but I knew I couldn’t. I had duties to return to. But I still helped Lethagas as best I could. Couched in racist and abusive terms—such as threatening to kill Gilthanas because his insanity was disgusting me even more than elves typically did—I provided them with information on how to reach Godshome (a mystic site my grandfather and his companions once visited) and the River of Healing (a place a Knight told me about a few years back). I think Lethagas is a brave and honorable elf, and that Gilthanas did right in placing his trust in him. I just wish I could have left him with a better impression of me. What will he think of my parents if Gilthanas remembers our conversation and tells him who I am?

 I continue to attempt to help them on their journey. As I slowly make my way back to Sanction, I offer nightly prayers to Paladine and his two sons, and hope that one of them is listening and is willing to help Gilthanas on his difficult path.

 I’d throw a prayer or two in for myself, too, but I’m saving them in case my wounds get infected before I reach Sanction. Hopefully, my infractions against the Measure will be deemed light enough to warrant me taking advantage of the second chance Fate or the gods have given me.
 It’s my most sincere hope right now. And if you’re reading this, it probably came true.