Serpent Mage (19 page)

“Haplo's not here, is he?”

The dog reacted to the name again, lifted its head, gazed about wistfully.

“Dear, dear,” Alfred murmured.

“Haplo!” Orla spoke the name with reluctance, it might have been coated with poison. “Haplo! That is a Patryn word.”

“What? Oh, yes, I believe it is,” Alfred said, preoccupied. “Means 'single.' The dog doesn't have a name. Haplo never gave it one. An interesting point, don't you think?” He knelt down beside the animal, stroked its head with a gentle, trembling hand. “But why are you here?” he asked. “Not sick, are we? No. I didn't think so. Not sick. Perhaps Haplo sent you to spy on me? That's it, isn't it?”

The dog gave Alfred a reproachful glance. I
expected better from you than this,
it seemed to say.

“The animal belongs to the Patryn,” Orla said.

Alfred looked up at her, hesitated. “You might say that. And then again …”

“It could be spying on us for him, right now.”

“It could be,” Alfred conceded the point. “But I don't think so. Not that we haven't used the animal for such purposes before—”

“We!” Orla drew back, away from him.

“I… That is … Haplo told it… In Abarrach … The prince and Baltazar, a necromancer. I didn't really want to spy on them but I didn't have much choice …”

Alfred saw he wasn't helping matters. He began again. “Haplo and I were lost in Abarrach—”

“Please!” Orla interrupted faintly. “Please quit saying that name. I—” She covered her eyes. “I see horrible things! Hideous monsters! Brutal death …”

“You see the Labyrinth. You see where you … where the Patryns have been imprisoned all these centuries.”

“Where
we
imprisoned them, you were about to say. But, it's so real in your mind. As if you've been there …”

“I have been there, Orla.”

To his vast astonishment, she turned pale, stared at him in fright. Alfred was quick to reassure her. “I didn't actually mean I'd been there—”

“Of course,” she said faintly. “It… it's impossible. Don't say such things, then, if you don't mean them.”

“I'm sorry. I hadn't intended to upset you.” Although Alfred was completely at a loss to know why she was upset. And frightened. Why frightened? More questions.

“I think perhaps you had better explain yourself,” she said.

“Yes, I'll try. I was in the Labyrinth, but it was in Haplo's body. I traded minds with him, one might say. It was when we were going through Death's Gate.”

“And did he trade places with you?”

“I think so. He never said anything, you see, but, then, he wouldn't. It was even difficult for him to call me by name. He used to call me Sartan. Just like that. With a sneer. I can't blame him. He has little cause to love us …”

Orla was frowning. “You fell into a Patryn's consciousness. I don't believe anything like that has ever happened to a Sartan.”

“Probably not,” Alfred agreed sadly. “I seem to be always falling into something—”

“You must tell Samah.”

Alfred flushed, lowered his eyes. “I'd really rather not…” He began petting the dog.

“But this could be extremely important! Don't you see? You've been inside one. You can tell us how they think and why they react as they do. You can give us insight that may yet help us defeat them.”

“The war is over,” he reminded her, gently.

“But another one may come!” she said, fist clenching, driving into her palm.

“That's what Samah believes. Is that your belief, as well?”

“Samah and I have had our differences,” Orla said briskly.
“All know it. We have never hidden it. But he is wise, Alfred. I respect him. He is head of the Council. And he wants what we all want. To live in peace”

“Is that what he wants, do you think?”

“Well, of course!” Orla snapped. “What did you suppose?”

“I don't know. I wasn't certain.”

Alfred recalled the expression on Samah's face when he said, I'll
seems we have, after all, awakened at a propitious time, Brethren. Once again, our ancient enemy plans to go to war.
His mind conjured up the image. Orla shared it with him. Her face softened.

“Talk to Samah. Be honest with him. And”—she sighed— “he will be honest with you. He will answer your questions. He will tell you what happened to us in Chelestra. And why we, as you think, abandoned our responsibilities.”

Alfred's face burned. “I didn't mean—”

“No. In a way, you are right. But you should know the truth before you judge us. Just as we should know the truth before we judge you.”

Alfred didn't know what to say. He could come up with no more arguments.

“And now,” said Orla, folding her hands together in front of her, “what about the dog?”

“What about the dog?” Alfred looked uneasy.

“If this dog belongs to the Patryn, why is it here? Why has it come to you?”

“I'm not sure,” Alfred began hesitantly, “but I think it's lost.”

“Lost?”

“Yes. I think the dog has lost Haplo. The animal wants me to help it find its master.”

“But that's nonsense! You're talking like a child's storybook. This creature may be intelligent enough for its kind, but it is still nothing more than a dumb animal—”

“Oh, no. This is a very extraordinary dog,” Alfred said solemnly. “And if it is here in Chelestra, you may be certain that Haplo is here … somewhere.”

The dog, assuming that with all this talk they must be
making progress, lifted its head and wagged its tail. Orla frowned. “You believe the Patryn is here, on Chelestra?”

“It certainly makes sense. This is the fourth world, the last world he was to visit before—” He stopped.

“—before the Patryns launch their attack.”

Alfred nodded silently.

“I can understand why this knowledge that our enemy may be in this world disturbs you. Yet you seem more sad than upset.” Orla stared down at the animal in perplexity. “Why are you so worried over a lost dog?”

“Because,” Alfred replied gravely, “if the dog has lost Haplo, then I fear Haplo may have lost himself.”

HAPLO LAY ON HIS PALLET ON BOARD THE STRANGE VESSEL
, doing nothing but resting and staring at his arms and his hands. The sigia were as yet only faintly visible—a blue as pale and weak as the eyes of that fool Sartan, Alfred. But the runes were there! They'd come back! And with them, his magic. Haplo closed his eyes, breathed deeply, a sigh of relief.

He recalled those terrible moments when he'd regained consciousness on board this ship, discovered himself surrounded by mensch, and known himself to be helpless, defenseless. He couldn't even understand what they were saying!

It hadn't mattered that they were females, barely old enough to be out of the nursery. It hadn't mattered that they had been gentle and kind, that they had regarded him with awe, sympathy, pity. What mattered was that they had been in control of the situation. Haplo, weak from exhaustion, hunger, bereft of his magic, had been at their mercy. For a moment, he had bitterly regretted seeking their help. Better he should have perished.

But, now, the magic was returning. His power was coming back. Like the sigla, the magic was weak still. He couldn't do much beyond the most rudimentary rune structures; he'd regressed back to his childhood magical abilities. He could understand languages, speak them. He could probably provide
himself with food, if necessary. He could heal any minor hurts. And that was about it.

Thinking what he lacked, Haplo was suddenly angry, frustrated. He forced himself to calm down. To give way to his anger was to lose control again.

“Patience,” he said to himself, lying back on his bed. “You learned it the hard way in the Labyrinth. Be calm and be patient.”

He didn't appear to be in any danger. Though just exactly what the situation was wasn't clear. He'd tried to talk to the three mensch girls, but they'd been so astounded at his sudden use of their language—and the startling appearance of the runes on his skin—that they'd fled before he could question them further.

Haplo had waited, tensely, for some older mensch to enter and demand to know what was going on. But no one came. Lying still, straining to listen, Haplo heard nothing except the creaking of the ship's timbers. He would have almost supposed, if it hadn't seemed too improbable, that he and these girls were the only ones on board.

“I was too hard on them,” Haplo counseled himself. “I'll have to take it easy, be careful not to startle them again. They could be of use to me.” He looked around in satisfaction. “It seems likely that I've got myself another ship.”

He was feeling stronger every moment, and had just about decided he would risk leaving his cabin to go in search of someone, when he heard a soft tapping on his door. Quickly, Haplo lay back down, pulled the blanket up around him, and pretended to be asleep.

The tapping repeated. He heard voices—three voices— debating what to do. The door creaked. It was being opened slowly. He could imagine eyes peering in at him.

“Go on, Alake!” That was the dwarf, her voice low and gruff.

“But he's asleep! I'm afraid I'll wake him.”

“Just set the food down and go.” An elf maid. Her voice was light and high-pitched, but Haplo caught himself thinking there was something not quite right about it.

Haplo heard the sound of bare feet padding into his room. He deemed it time to wake up now, slowly, careful not to frighten anyone. He drew a deep breath, stirred, and groaned. The footsteps came to an abrupt halt. He heard the girl suck in her breath.

Opening his eyes, Haplo looked up at her and smiled.

“Hullo,” he said in her language. “Alake, isn't it?”

The girl was human and one of the most attractive human females Haplo'd ever seen. She'll be a beauty, he thought, when she grows up. Her skin was soft, velvet black; her hair was so black as to be almost blue and shone as brightly as a raven's wing. Her eyes were large and melting brown. Despite a very understandable amount of alarm, she remained where she was, didn't run away.

“That smells good,” he continued, reaching out his hands for the food. “I don't know how long I drifted in the sea, without anything to eat. Days maybe. Alake, that's your name. Right?” he repeated.

The girl placed the dish in his hands. Her eyes were lowered. “Yes,” she said shyly. “My name is Alake. How did you know?”

“A lovely name,” he said. “Almost as lovely as the woman it graces.”

He was rewarded with a smile and a flutter of long lashes. Haplo began to eat, some sort of stew and a loaf of slightly stale bread.

“Don't leave,” he mumbled, his mouth full. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was. “Come in. Let's talk.”

“We're afraid we're disturbing your rest,” began Alake, glancing at her two companions, who had remained standing by the door.

Haplo shook his head, gestured with a hunk of bread. Alake sat down nearest him, but not close enough to be considered immodest. The elf maid crept inside the door and found a seat in a chair in the shadows. She moved awkwardly, lacking the grace Haplo normally associated with elves. But perhaps that was because she was wearing a dress that appeared to be too small for her. A shawl covered her arms. A long silken veil was wrapped around her
head and face, leaving nothing showing except her almond-shaped eyes.

The dwarf stumped in on short, thick legs, squatted down comfortably on the floor, folded her arms across her chest, and regarded Haplo with deep suspicion.

“Where do you come from?” she demanded, speaking dwarven.

“Grundle!” Alake reprimanded. “Let him eat his dinner.”

The dwarf ignored her. “Where do you come from? Who sent you? Was it the dragon-snakes?”

Haplo took his time answering. He cleaned his bowl out with the bread, asked for something to drink. The dwarf wordlessly passed over a bottle of some strong-smelling liquor.

“Would you rather have water?” Alake inquired anxiously.

Haplo thought privately that he'd had water enough to last him a lifetime, but he didn't want to lose his faculties in the bottom of a brandy bottle, and so he nodded.

“Grundle—” Alake began.

“I'll go,” murmured the elf maid, and left the small room.

“My name is Haplo,” he began.

“You told us that last night,” Grundle stated.

“Don't interrupt!” Alake said, flashing her friend an angry glance.

Grundle muttered something and leaned back against the wall, her small feet propped out in front of her. “The ship in which I sailed broke apart. I managed to escape, and drifted about in the water until you found me and were kind enough to take me on board.” Haplo smiled again at Alake, who lowered her eyes and toyed with the brass beads in her hair. “As for where I'm from, you've probably never heard of the name, but it's a world much like your own.”

That was a safe enough answer. He might have known it wouldn't satisfy the dwarf.

“A seamoon like ours?”

“Something similar.”

“How do you know what our seamoon is like?”

“All know that the … um … seamoons of Chelestra are the same,” Haplo answered.

Grundle jabbed a finger at him. “Why do you draw pictures on your skin?”

“Why do dwarves wear beards?” Haplo countered.