Serpent Mage

19

Much to Haplo’s amazement, the royal families, reunited with their children, decided to depart. Each family, it seemed, intended to return home, to rest and relax and, when they felt strong enough, discuss the idea of making the Sun Chase.

“What is this? Where are you going?” Haplo demanded of the dwarves, about to board their submersible. The humans were heading for theirs.

“We are going back to Phondra,” said Dumaka.

“Phondra!” Haplo stared at him, open-mouthed. Mensch! he thought in disgust.

“Listen, I know you’ve had a shock and I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am.” His glance went to Alake, sobbing in her mother’s arms. “But you don’t seem to understand that important things are happening, things that involve you and your people. You’ve got to take action now!

“For instance,” he said, hoping to catch their attention, “did you know that the seamoon you’re planning to inhabit is already inhabited?” Dumaka and Delu frowned, grew attentive. The dwarves halted, turned around. Even Eliason lifted his head, a vague flicker of disquiet in the elf’s sunken eyes.

“The dolphins said nothing of this,” returned Dumaka sternly. “How do you know? Who told you?”

“The dragon-snakes. Look, I know you don’t trust them. I don’t blame you. But I have reason to believe that this time they’re telling the truth.”

“Who is living there? Those horrible creatures?” Yngvar guessed, scowling.

“No, not the dragon-snakes, if that’s who you mean. They have their own seamoon. They don’t need or want another. The people living on the moon in which you’re interested are not dwarven, elven, or human. I don’t think you’ve ever heard of them. They call themselves Sartan.”

Haplo glanced around quickly, saw no signs of recognition, and breathed an inward sigh of relief. That made things easier. It might have been difficult, had these people any distant memories of the Sartan, to get them to move against those they must consider gods. He hurried on, while he had their attention.

“The dragon-snakes have promised to rebuild your ships, using their own magic. They’re sorry for what they did. It was all a misunderstanding. I’ll explain it to you when there’s more time.

“For now, I’ll tell you this much, so you can start making plans. The seamoon is everything the dolphins told you. Actually, it isn’t really a seamoon. It’s a permanent structure. And it’s huge, big enough for all your people to live on together. And you’ll be able to live in this realm for generations, without having to worry about building more sun-chasers.”

Dumaka looked dubious. “You are certain you are discussing . . . what was the name?”

“Surunan,” supplied his wife.

“Yes, Surunan.”

“Yeah, that’s the place,” said Haplo, not wanting to have to speak the Sartan name. “It’s the only place anywhere near the seasun. It’s there ... or nowhere for your people, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” said Eliason softly, “we had ourselves come to that determination.”

“Which brings us to our problem. What the dolphins didn’t tell you was that . . . this place ... is now the home of these Sartan. To give the dolphins credit, I don’t think they knew. The Sartan haven’t lived there very long.” Well, they had, but now wasn’t the time to go into all that. The mensch exchanged glances. They seemed dazed, unable to cope with this new situation.

“But who are these Sartan? You speak of them as if they were horrible creatures, who will turn us away,” said Delu. “How do you know they won’t be glad to have us live on their realm?”

“And how many of these Sartan are there?” asked her husband.

“There aren’t many, a thousand or so. They inhabit one city in the realm. The rest of the land is going to waste.”

Yngvar brightened. “Then what do we have to worry about? There’s room for all.”

“I agree with the dwarf. We will make Surunan productive and prosperous.” Haplo shook his head. “Logically, what you say makes sense. And the Sartan should be agreeable to you moving in, but I’m afraid they may not. I know something of these Sartan. According to the dragon-snakes, a long, long time ago, when the seasun was new, your ancestors used to live in this same realm with the Sartan. And then, one day, the Sartan told your ancestors to leave. They put your people in ships and sent them out into the Goodsea, not knowing, not caring, whether your people lived or died. It’s not likely the Sartan will be happy to see you come back again.”

“But, if that’s the only place for us to go, how could they turn us away?” Eliason looked amazed.

“I’m not saying they will,” Haplo said, shrugging. “I’m just saying they might. And you need to think about what you’ll do if they refuse to let you. That’s why you need to meet together, make plans, decisions.” He looked at the mensch expectantly.

They looked at each other.

“I will not go to war,” said the elven king.

“Come now, man!” Yngvar snorted. “No one wants to fight, but if these Sartan prove unreasonable—”

“I will not go to war,” Eliason repeated with maddening calm. Yngvar began to argue. Dumaka attempted to reason.

“The sun will not leave us for many cycles,” said Eliason brokenly. He waved his hand. “I cannot think of such things now—”

“Can’t think about the welfare of your own people!” Grundle, tearstreaks drying on her face, stalked across the pier and came to stand before the elven king, her head about level with his waist.

“Grundle, you should not speak so to your elders,” reprimanded her mother, but she didn’t say it very loudly and her daughter didn’t hear her.

“Sabia was my friend. Every cycle that passes from now to the end of my life, I’ll think of her and miss her. But she was willing to give her life to save her people. It would be a disgrace to her memory if you, her father, couldn’t do as much!”

Eliason stood staring at the dwarf as if he were in a dream and she some strange apparition sprung out of nowhere.

Yngvar, the dwarf king, sighed and tugged at his beard. “My daughter speaks true words, Eliason, even if she does hurl them with all the grace and charm of an ax-thrower. We share your grief, but we also share your responsibility. The lives of our people come first. This man, who has saved our children, is right. We must meet and plan what is to be done, and soon!”

“I agree with Yngvar,” Dumaka spoke up. “Let us hold the meeting on Phondra, fourteen cycles hence. Will that give you time enough to conclude the mourning period?”

“Fourteen cycles!”

Haplo was about to protest. He caught the dwarf’s keen-eyed glance warning him to keep silent, and shut his mouth. Later, he would discover that the elven mourning period—during which no elf related to the deceased by either blood or marriage may conduct any type of business—generally lasted for months, sometimes longer.

“Very well,” said Eliason with a deep sigh. “Fourteen cycles. I will meet you on Phondra.”

The Elmas departed. The Phondrans and Gargans returned to their submersibles, prepared to go back to their respective sea-spheres. Dumaka, prodded by Alake, came up to Haplo.

“You must forgive him, sir, forgive us all if we seem ungrateful to you for what you’ve done. The tears of great joy and terrible grief have drowned all gratitude. You would do honor to my lodge, if you would agree to be our guest.”

“I am the one who would be honored to share your dwelling, Chief,” Haplo answered solemnly, feeling strangely as if he were back in the Labyrinth, talking to the headman of one of the Squatter tribes.

Dumaka said the appropriate words of pleasure and motioned toward his submersible.

“Will Eliason come, do you think?” Haplo asked as they boarded the vessel, the Patryn taking considerable care to avoid stepping in any water.

“Yes, he will come,” Dumaka replied. “He’s very reliable, for an elf.”

“How long has it been since the elves went to war?”

“War?” Dumaka was amused, his teeth flashed white against his dusky skin. “The elves?” He shrugged. “Forever.”

Haplo expected to spend his time on Phondra chafing with impatience, fuming at the forced inaction. He was surprised, after his first day or two, to discover that he was actually, grudgingly, enjoying himself.

Compared to the other worlds in which he’d traveled, Phondra most closely resembled his own. And while Haplo had never supposed he would be homesick for the Labyrinth, life with Dumaka’s tribe brought back memories of some of the few pleasant and restful times in the Patryn’s harsh life—those spent in the camps of the Squatters.[33]

Dumaka’s tribe was the largest on Phondra and the strongest, one reason he was chieftain over the entire human population. It had taken numerous wars to settle the question, apparently, but now he was undisputed ruler and, in general, most of the other tribes approved his leadership.

Dumaka did not hold power alone, however. The Coven wielded a strong influence in the community, whose people revered magic and all those who could use it.

“In the old days,” Alake explained, “the Coven and the chieftains were often at odds, each believing they had the best right to govern. My father’s own father died that way, murdered by a warlock, who thought that he should be chief. The war that followed was bitter and bloody. Countless numbers perished. My father swore that if the One made him chief, he would bring about peace between the tribes and the Coven. The One granted him victory over his enemies and it was then that he married my mother, daughter of the Priestess of the Coven.

“My parents divided the power between them. My father rules on all disputes that occur over land or possessions; he gives laws and stands in judgment. My mother and the Coven deal with all things magical. Phondra has been at peace for years now.”

Haplo looked around at the tribal village—the lodges made of poles and thatched grass; the women, babies on their hips, laughing and talking; the younger men, honing weapons, preparing to set off in pursuit of some wild beast. A group of men too old to go on the hunt sat in the warm, waning sunlight, reliving hunts of long ago. The air was soft to the touch, scented with smells of smoked meat, alive with the shrill cries of children having a play hunt of their own.

“It seems a pity it must all end,” Alake said softly, her eyes glimmering. Yes, it was a pity, Haplo caught himself thinking. He tried to shake off the thought, but he could not deny that in this place, with these people, he felt at peace and relaxed for the first time in a very long time. It was merely a reaction to his fear, he decided. A reaction to the initial terror of the dragon-snakes, to the even greater terror of believing he’d lost his magic.

I must have been weaker than I knew. I’ll use this time to regain my strength, for I’ll soon need it. When I face the ancient enemy. When we go to war against the Sartan.

There’s nothing I can do to hurry it, anyway, he told himself. It won’t do to offend these mensch. I need them, need their numbers, if not necessarily their skill at arms.

He had been thinking a lot about the forthcoming battle. The elves would be worse than useless. He must find something for them to do, keep them out of the way. The humans were warriors, trained and skilled and easily roused to blood lust. The dwarves, from what he had gathered from talking to Grundle, were solid, tough. Slow to anger, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Haplo thought it likely that the Sartan would inadvertently provide all the provocation he needed.

His only concern was that these Sartan might prove to be like Alfred. Haplo considered the matter briefly, shook his head. No, from what he knew of Samah, from the records left in the Nexus, the Councillor was as different from Alfred as the light and lush world of air differed from the dark, smothering world of stone.

“I’m sorry, but I must leave you alone for a time . . .” Alake was saying something to him, something about having to go to her mother. She was looking at him anxiously, fearful of offending him. Haplo smiled at her. “I’ll be fine on my own. And you don’t have to worry about entertaining me, much as I enjoy your company. I’ll just look around.” He waved a hand. “Get to know your people.”

“You like us, don’t you?” asked Alake, returning his smile.

“Yes,” said Haplo and only when the word was spoken did he realize he meant it. “Yes, I like your people, Alake. They remind me ... of someplace I was, once.”

He fell silent, abruptly, not particularly welcoming some of the memories, yet oddly grateful to greet them after a long absence.

“She must have been very beautiful,” said Alake, somewhat downcast. Haplo looked up at her swiftly. Women! Mensch, Patryn, all alike. What gave them that uncanny ability to crawl inside a man’s skull, inside the dark places he thought hidden to all?

“She was,” he said, and he hadn’t meant to say that either. It was this place. Too much like home. “You’d better run along. Your mother will be wondering where you are.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said softly. Reaching out her hand, she touched his, clasped his fingers.

Her skin was smooth and soft, her hand strong. His fingers tightened over hers, he drew her hand closer, not thinking what he was doing. Only knowing that she was beautiful and she warmed some cold part of him.

“A little pain is good for us,” he said to her. “Reminds us we’re alive.” She didn’t understand, but she was reassured by his manner, and left him. Haplo’s gaze followed her until the hungry, lonely ache inside him made him feel just a little bit too much alive for comfort.

Standing up, stretching in the warm sun, he went off to join the young warriors in the hunt.

The hunt was long, exciting, strenuous. Whatever beast it was—and Haplo never did catch the name—was cunning, vicious, and savage. The Patryn deliberately refused to use his magic. He found he enjoyed the hard, physical exertion, enjoyed pitting wits and muscle against an enemy.

The stalking and chasing lasted for hours, the kill itself, involving nets and spears, was tense and danger-edged. Several of the men were injured; one came close to being gored by the swordlike horn on top of the brutish head. Haplo flung himself on the young man, dragged him out of harm’s way. The horn grazed the Patryn’s skin but, protected as he was by the runes, did no true damage. Haplo had never been in any danger, but the humans didn’t know that and acclaimed him the hero of the day. At the end of the hunt, when the young men returned, singing, to the camp, he enjoyed their comradeship, the feeling that he was, once again, one with a community.

This feeling wouldn’t last long. It never had in the Labyrinth. He was a Runner. He would grow restless and uneasy, chafe against walls only he could see. But for now, he permitted himself the pleasure.

“I’m building up their confidence in me, their trust.” That was his excuse. Pleasantly weary, he walked back to his hut, planning to lie down and rest before tonight’s feasting. “These men will follow me anywhere, now. Even to war against a far superior enemy.”

He lay on his pallet, the warm ache of fatigue relaxing his muscles and his mind. A unwelcome thought occurred to him—his lord’s instructions. You are to be an observer. Take no action that might give yourself away as a Patryn. Do not alert the enemy to our presence.

But the Lord of the Nexus could not have foreseen that Haplo would run into Samah the Councillor. Samah, the Sartan who had imprisoned the Patryns in the Labyrinth. Samah, who had been responsible for the deaths, the sufferings, the torments endured by Haplo’s people through countless generations.

“When I return, it will be with Samah, and my lord will once again trust me and think of me as his son ...”

Haplo must have fallen asleep, for he jerked awake, alarmed, aware of someone inside his hut with him. He reacted swiftly, instinctively, and startled Alake, who took an involuntary step or two back away from him.

“I’m . . . sorry,” muttered Haplo, seeing, by the lambent light of the campfires outside his hut, who it was. “I didn’t mean to jump at you. You took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Never disturb the sleeping tiger,” said Alake. “So my father says. I called out and you answered, but you must have been dreaming. I’m sorry for waking you. I will leave . . .”

Yes, it had been a dream. Haplo was still trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“No, don’t go.”

The dream lurked, on the fringes of his mind. He wasn’t anxious to let it get at him again.

“That smells good,” he said, sniffing at savory odors drifting on the soft night air.

“I brought you some food,” Alake said, gesturing outdoors. The Phondrans never ate inside the lodge, but always out in the Open—a sensible precaution, one that kept the dwellings clean and free of rodents. “You missed supper and I thought . . . that is, my mother thought . . . you might be hungry.”

“I am. Tell your mother thank you very much for her thoughtfulness,” said Haplo gravely.

Alake smiled, pleased to have pleased him. She was always doing something for him, bringing him food, small gifts, something she’d made herself. . . .

“You have upset your pallet. I will straighten it for you.” She took a step forward. Haplo was walking toward the lodge entrance. Somehow, the two managed to collide. Before Haplo knew what was happening, soft arms encircled him, soft lips sought his, warmth and fragrance surrounded him. Haplo’s body reacted before his brain could take control. He was half in the Labyrinth, still. The girl was more a part of his dream than reality. He kissed her hard, fiercely, his passion that of a man, forgetting he held a child. He pressed her close, started to draw her down on his pallet. Alake gave a faint, scared gasp.

Haplo’s brain took charge, jerked him to his senses.

“Get out!” he ordered, thrusting Alake roughly away from him. She stood, shivering, in the doorway, staring at him. She’d been unprepared for the ardence of his passion, perhaps unprepared for her own body’s response to what had before been maiden dreams and fantasies. She was frightened of him, frightened of herself. But she had come to know, suddenly, her own power.

“You love me!” she whispered.

“No, I don’t,” Haplo returned harshly.

“You kissed me . . .”

“Alake—” Haplo began, exasperated, then stopped.

He swallowed the cold, callous words he’d been ready to speak. It wouldn’t do to hurt the girl, who would almost assuredly go weeping to her mother. He couldn’t afford to offend the rulers of the Phondrans and, as much as it irritated him to admit it, he didn’t want to hurt Alake. What had happened had been his own damn fault.

“Alake,” he began again, lamely, “I’m too old. I’m not even your race . . .”

“Then what are you? You’re not elven or dwarven . . .” I belong to people beyond your comprehension, child. A race of demigods, who might stoop to take a mensch for a toy, but would never take one for a wife.

“I can’t explain, Alake. But, you know I’m different. Look at me! Look at the color of my skin. My hair and eyes. And I’m a stranger. You know nothing about me.”

“I know all I need to know,” the girl said softly. “I know that you save my life . . .”

“You saved mine.”

She drew nearer, her eyes warm and glowing. “You are brave, the bravest man I’ve ever known. And handsome. Yes, you are different, but that is what makes you special. And you may be old, but I am old, too, for my years. Boys my own age bore me.”

She reached out for him. Haplo kept his hands at his sides.

“Alake,” he said, able at last to think rationally, saying what he should have said in the first place, “your parents would never approve.”

“They might,” she faltered.

“No.” Haplo shook his head. “They will repeat everything that I have said to you. They would be angry and they would have a right to be angry. You are a royal daughter. Your marriage is very important to your people. You have responsibilities. You must marry a chieftain or a chieftain’s son. I’m nobody, Alake.”

She drooped. Her head bowed, her shoulders shook. Tears glimmered on her lashes. “You kissed me,” she murmured.

“Yes, I couldn’t help myself. You are very beautiful, Alake.” She lifted her head, looked at him, her heart in her eyes. “There will be a way. You will see. The One will not keep two who love each other apart. No,” she said, raising a hand, “you need have no fear. I understand, and I will not tell my father or my mother. I will say nothing of this to anyone. It will be our secret, until the One shows me how we may be together.” She gave him a soft, tremulous kiss on his cheek, then turned and fled from his lodge.

Haplo stared after her, frustrated, angry at her, at himself, at the absurd circumstances that had dumped him into this situation. Would she keep her word, say nothing to her parents? He considered going after her, but he had no idea what he’d say. How could he tell her that he hadn’t been kissing her, that he’d been kissing a memory conjured by his surroundings, the hunt, the dream?