"Hello, my old… comrade. It is rather a surprise to see you," Palin said mildly, coming out and closing the door behind him.

"Not a pleasant one, if your sister's reaction is any guide."

Palin shrugged, offering a regretful smile. "Laura has never been shy about her opinions. I suspect she thinks you are a rather bad influence on me. But nevertheless, I did not expect to see you again… so soon."

Dalamar studied the former master of the White Robes. Palin looked healthier than he had in years: he was fit, broad-shouldered and held himself proudly erect. His hair, faded to a pale gray and thinned somewhat on top, was fastened in the back to a tail that hung down to the level of his shoulder blades. He advanced to clasp hands with the dark elf, their eyes meeting in appraisal. What do I see there, Dalamar wondered-and what does he see?

A serving maid came out the door with a tray. She set down a loaf of bread, a tub of butter, a pitcher of ale, and two mugs, and she wordlessly withdrew.

"Thank you," said Dalamar, his stomach rumbling audibly as the aroma of the loaf-obviously fresh from the oven-reached his nostrils.

"Actually, this repast comes from Laura," the man said with a chuckle. "Even at her sternest, she is an innkeeper at heart; she would not let a visitor stay thirsty or hungry." Palin settled into a chair, and Dalamar noticed the ease with which he leaned back, fully secure. This was a man who was utterly at peace with himself, the elf realized with some dismay.

The dark elf took an adjacent chair and allowed his host to fill the mugs in companionable silence. The sun was setting, sending dazzling beams through the giant, leafy vallenwoods, illuminating the forest city in a surreal glow. The cold drink went down easily, and the elf realized that he had grown quite parched during his magical flight. His mug was emptied in a surprisingly quick time, but he leaned forward, holding on to it with both hands. If he put it down, Palin would offer a refill, and Dalamar wanted to keep his wits about him.

He found it strangely difficult to begin. His host cut several slices of the bread, slathered them with butter, and handed one to the dark elf. It was excellent, of course: crusty and aromatic, firm and pleasantly chewy. After eating a couple of pieces, Dalamar did allow himself another mug of the ale. He sipped at the foamy head, then leaned back to look at the man who had been, in the dark elf's opinion, the second-greatest wizard upon Krynn.

"I went seeking the Tower of High Sorcery," Dalamar began.

Palin raised his eyebrows, not so much in surprise as curiosity. "It sounds as though you didn't find it," he suggested.

"I couldn't even locate Wayreth Forest," the elf said, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. "I searched the western border of Qualinesti, rode south from there… but nothing. I have been traveling for all the months since my… awakening."

The word hung like a noose between them. Palin, too, had suffered from Mina's curse, had been granted that awakening by his god. But it was not a thing they would ever discuss.

"The Tower is closed to you? Strange." Palin looked outside, where the white half-circle of Solinari was just visible through the upper terrace of a nearby vallenwood. The moon was setting.

Dalamar glanced toward the sky himself. He could see Nuitari, nearly full and still higher in his line of sight than the loftiest tree top. The black moon was a shiny orb to him, slick and glossy like a spot of oil.

"Is it up there? The black moon?" Palin asked.

"You can't sense it?" Dalamar responded, surprised. "I know that it is only the mages of the Black Robes who can see it, but you always knew where it was in the sky."

The human chuckled. "I guess I've stopped paying attention," he said. "Ironic, in a way-I spent forty years and more pining for those moons of magic. Now they have returned, and I hardly notice."

"Is it really true? You continue to foreswear your art, your gift?" The dark elf made the questions into a challenge.

Palin didn't rise to the bait. "As to 'gifts'… well, you enjoy that bounty. And perhaps I have simply chosen a new art. This town-it needs a lot of help. Can you believe they've made me mayor?" The man laughed quietly in wry amusement,

not without a hint of pride. "There are dangers in the wilds now-thieves, bandits and… darker things. Chaos looms on all sides. In any event, I have all that I can handle, right here, doing this job. And it is a calling that leaves me with a great peace in my soul at the end of every day."

Dalamar was silent, thinking, carefully masking his face to conceal his disappointment. His scheme seemed less than pointless, now. He saw clearly that all the compelling arguments and carefully reasoned points that he had formed in advance of this meeting were utterly toothless in the face of this man's bucolic contentment. The dark elf didn't even have the energy to plead his case-he had no wish to face the humiliation of Palin's polite refusal.

But his old colleague deserved, at least, an explanation.

"I came here to ask for your help, Palin. I thought that two robes might succeed where one was blocked, that the Tower might welcome us both, together. I will not ask that of you, though; I see now that you have come to the place where you belong." Dalamar grimaced. "Of course, if I thought there was even a chance I could change your mind, I wouldn't hesitate to use every kind of persuasion I could muster."

"You have some very persuasive techniques, I seem to recall," said Palin dryly.

"But nothing, I know, that could bend you, not here, not now. Palin, when you told me you were coming here, abandoning your robes, your spells… I felt only pity and contempt for you. I thought you were a fool, a weakling."

Palin eyed the elf, his face revealing no emotion. Dalamar continued.

"Now that I have seen you here, I confess it is not contempt that I feel. One might call it envy, even a trace of jealousy. I know I will never have what you possess, day in and day out, in this little village in the woods."

"Oh, there are times when I remember the power, with a twinge of longing," Palin admitted.

"And that power has returned, in full!" Dalamar spoke with sudden passion. "Palin, surely you can remember what it's like-to call upon the moon, to feel the pulse of sorcery in your heart, deep in your belly, your very soul! I tell you, this is a time of new magic, a historical cusp in the world!" The dark elf was clenching his mug, pleading after all.

"I can remember," the former white mage said calmly. "And that is enough for me. But I am glad that you came here-it is good to see you, my old… friend?" Palin couldn't help but turn the word into a question.

Dalamar laughed softly; he neither wanted, nor possessed, any "friends." Yet he realized that Palin was sincere, and that made the statement strangely touching.

"Thank you, but I should not have come. No doubt Laura is terribly worried about you. She has probably sent a messenger off to Usha already, urging your wife to come and rescue you from my clutches. So I will leave, and you can go comfort her." The dark elf tried to keep his tone light, though he knew his words were mocking. He felt the bitterness of his own defeat.

"What is the hurry? Where are you going?"

Dalamar shook his head without replying. There was only one place he could go, now, one person he must see, and he was not looking forward to either the journey, or the meeting.

"That was quite a steed that carried you to Solace," Palin continued genially, as if accepting Dalamar's silence as his answer. "The inn practically tilted out of the tree when everyone ran over to the south windows to see you arrive. If you would like to spend the night, and take time to study your spell book before you leave, you are welcome to stay. Laura will certainly give you a quiet room, with a good lantern for reading."