Elven Star

25

Haplo lay flat on his back on the moss, shielding his eyes from the sun, counting stars.

He had come up with twenty-five bright lights that he could see clearly from this vantage point. Lenthan Quindiniar had assured him that—all told—the elves had counted ninety-seven. Not all of these were visible all the time, of course. Some of them winked out and stayed out for a number of seasons before returning. Elven astronomers had also calculated that there were Stars near the horizon that could not be seen due to the atmosphere. They had estimated, therefore, that there might be anywhere from 150 to 200 stars total in the heavens.

Which was certainly different from any stars Haplo’d ever heard about. He considered the possibility of moons. There had been a moon in the ancient world, according to his lord’s research. But there had been no moon in the Sartan rendering of this world and Haplo hadn’t seen any moonlike objects during his flight. Again, he thought it likely that moons would revolve around the world and these lights were, apparently, stationary. But then the sun was stationary. Or rather the planet of Pryan :was stationary. It didn’t revolve. There was no day or night. And then there was the strange cycle of the stars—burning brightly for long periods of time, then going dark, then reappearing.

Haplo sat up, glanced about for the dog, discovered it wandering about the yard, sniffing at the strange smells of people and other animals it didn’t recognize. The Patryn, alone in the yard, everyone else asleep, scratched at his bandaged hands. The binding always irritated his skin the first few days he wore it.

Maybe the lights are nothing more than a natural phenomenon peculiar to this planet. Which means I’m wasting my time, speculating about them and the sun. After all, I wasn’t sent here to study astronomy. I’ve got more important problems. Like what to do about this world.

Last evening, Lenthan Quindiniar had drawn Haplo a picture of the world as the elves viewed it. The drawing was sinfilar to the drawing Haplo’d seen in the Nexus—a round globe with a ball of fire in the center. Above the world, the elf added the “stars” and the sun. He pointed out their own location on this world—or what the elven astrologers had plotted was their location—and told him how the elves had, centuries ago, crossed the Paragna Sea to the est and arrived at the Fartherness Reaches.

“It was the plague,” Lenthan had explained. “They were fleeing it. Otherwise they never would have left their homes.”

Once they reached the Fartherness, the elves burned their ships, severing all contact with their former life. They turned their backs on the sea and looked inland. Lenthan’s great-great grandfather had been one of the few willing to explore the new territory to the vars and, in doing so, came across ornite, the navigational stone that was to make his fortune.[27] Using the stone, he was able to return to the Fartherness. He informed the elves of his discovery, and offered jobs to those willing to venture into the wilderness. Equilan had started out as a small mining community. It might have remained no more than that, but for the development of the human realms to the vars. The humans of what was now known as Thillia traveled there, by their own account, through a passage that led beneath the Terinthian Ocean. King George the Only—the father of the five brothers of legendary fame—led his people to this new land, supposedly running from a terror, whose name and face had been lost in the past.

Elves are not a race who must constantly expand. They feel no driving urge to conquer other people, to gobble up land. Having established a hold on Equilan, the elves had all the land they wanted. What they needed was trade-The elves welcomed the humans who, in turn, were extremely pleased to acquire elven weapons and other goods. As tune went by and the human population grew, they were less happy about the elves taking up so much valuable land on their sorinth border. The Thillians tried to expand norinth, but ran into the SeaKings—a fierce warrior people who had crossed the Sea of Stars during a time of war in the Kasnar Empire. Farther norinth and est were the dark and gloomy strongholds of the dwarves. By this time, the elven nation had grown strong and powerful. The humans were weak, divided, and dependent on the elves. The Thillians could do nothing but grumble and regard their neighbor’s land with envy.

As for the dwarves, Lenthan knew little, except that it was said that they had been well established in their kingdoms, long before his grandfather’s time.

“But where did you all come from originally?” Haplo had asked. He knew the answer, but was curious to see what, if anything, these people knew about the Sundering, hoping such information might give him a clue to the whereabouts and doings of the Sartan. “I mean, way, way, way back in time.” Lenthan had launched into a long and involved explanation and Haplo soon became lost in the complex myths. It depended on who you asked, apparently. Among the elves and humans, creation had something to do with being cast out of paradise. Orn-only-knew-what the dwarves believed in.

“What’s the political situation in the human realm?” Lenthan had looked downcast. “I’m afraid I really can’t tell you. My son is the explorer in the family. Father never thought I was quite suited—”

“Your son? Is he here?” Haplo had glanced about, wondering if the elf might be hiding in a closet—which, considering this wacky household, might not be at all unusual. “Can I talk to him?”

“Paithan. No, he’s not here. Traveling in the human realm. He won’t be back for some time, I’m afraid.”

All of this had been little help to Haplo. The Patryn was beginning to feel that his mission here was a lost cause. He was supposed to foment chaos, make it easy for his lord to step in and take over. But on Pryan, the dwarves asked nothing more than to be let alone, the humans fought each other, and the elves supplied them. Haplo didn’t stand much chance of urging the humans to war against the elves—it’s difficult to attack someone who’s providing you with the only means you have of attacking. No one wanted to fight the dwarves—no one wanted anything the dwarves had. The elves couldn’t be stirred to conquest, apparently because the word simply wasn’t in their vocabulary. “Status quo,” Lenthan Quindiniar had said. “It’s an ancient word meaning … well … ‘status quo.’” Haplo recognized the word and knew what it meant. Unchanging. Far different from the chaos he’d discovered (and helped along) in Arianus. Watching the bright lights shining in the sky, the Patryn grew more annoyed, more perplexed. Even if I manage to stir up trouble in this realm, how many more realms am I going to have to visit to do the same thing? There could be as many realms as … as there are shining lights in the sky. And who knows how many more beyond that? It might take me a lifetime just to find all of them! I don’t have a lifetime. And neither does My Lord.

It didn’t make sense. The Sartan were organized, systematic, and logical. They would never have scattered civilizations around at random like this and then left them to survive on-their own. There had to be some unifying something. Haplo didn’t have a due, at this moment, how he was going to find it. Except possibly the old man. He was crazy, obviously. But was he crazy as a gatecrasher[28] or crazy as a wolfen? The first meant he was harmless to everyone except perhaps himself, the second meant he needed to be watched. Haplo remembered his mistake in Arianus, when he’d thought a man a fool who had turned out to be anything but. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He had a lot of questions about the old man. And as if thinking of him had conjured him (as occasionally happened in the Labyrinth), Haplo looked up to discover Zifnab looking down.

“Is that you?” came the old man’s quavering voice. Haplo rose to his feet, brushing off bits of moss.

“Oh, no, it isn’t,” said Zifnab in disappointment, shaking his head.

“Still”—he peered closely at Haplo—“I seem to remember looking for you, too. Come, come.” He took hold of Haplo’s arm. “We’ve got to take off—Go to the rescue! Oh, dear! Nice Doggie. N—nice doggie.”

Seeing a stranger accost its master, the dog left off its pursuit of nonexistent game and dashed over to confront live quarry. The animal stood in front of the wizard, bared its teeth, and growled menacingly.

“I suggest you let go of my arm, old man,” advised Haplo.

“Uh, yes.” Zifnab removed his hand hastily. “Fine … fine animal.” The dog’s growls ceased, but it continued to regard the old man with deep suspicion.

Zifnab felt in a pocket. “I had a milk bone in here a few weeks ago. Left over from lunch. I say, have you met my dragon?”

“Is that a threat?” Haplo demanded.

“Threat?” The old wizard seemed staggered, so completely taken aback that his hat fell off. “No, of … of course not! It’s just that … we were comparing pets …” Zifnab lowered his voice, glanced around nervously. “Actually, my dragon’s quite harmless. I’ve got him under this spell—”

“Come on, dog,” said Haplo in disgust, and headed for his ship.

“Great Gandalf’s ghost!” shouted Zifnab. “If he had a ghost. I doubt it. He was such a snob … Where was I? Yes, rescue! Almost forgot.” The old man gathered up his robes and began running along at Haplo’s side. “Come on! Come on! No time to waste. Hurry!”

His white hair stood up all over his head, his beard stuck out in all directions. Zifnab clashed past Haplo. Looking back, he put his finger to his lips. “And keep it quiet. Don’t want him”—he pointed downward, grimacing—“along.”

Haplo came to a halt. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited with some amusement to see the old man come crashing up against the magical barrier the Patryn had established around his vessel. Zifnab reached the hull, laid a hand on it. Nothing happened.

“Hey, stay away from there!” Haplo broke into a run. “Dog, stop him!”

The dog sped ahead, flying over the mossy ground on silent paws, and caught hold of the old man’s robes just as Zifnab was attempting to climb up over the ship’s rail.

“Get back! Get back!” Zifnab flapped his hat at the dog’s head. “I’ll turn you into a piglet! Ast a bula—No, wait. That turns me into a piglet. Unhand me, you beast!”

“Dog, down,’ ordered Haplo, and the dog obediently dropped to a sitting position, releasing the old man, keeping a watchful eye on him. “Look you, old man. I don’t know how you managed to break through my magic, but I’m giving you fair warning. Stay off my ship—”

“We’re going off on a trip? Well, of course we are.” Zifnab reached out, gingerly patted Haplo’s arm. “That’s why we’re here. Nice young man you’ve got,” he added, speaking to the dog, “but addled.” The wizard hopped over the rail and proceeded across the top deck, moving toward the bridge with surprising speed and agility for one of “advanced years.”

“Damn!” swore Haplo, bounding after him. “Dog!” The animal leapt ahead, sped across the deck. Zifnab had already disappeared down the ladder leading to the bridge. The dog jumped after him. Haplo followed. Sliding down the ladder, he ran after and onto the bridge, Zifnab was staring curiously at the rune-covered steering stone. The dog stood beside him, watching. The old man stretched out a hand to touch. The dog growled, and Zifnab quickly snatched his hand back.

Haplo paused in the hatchway, considering. He was a passive observer, not supposed to directly interfere with life in this world. But now he had no choice. The old man had seen the runes. Not only that, he had unraveled them. He knew, therefore, who the Patryn was. He couldn’t be allowed to spread that knowledge further. Besides, he was—he must be—a Sartan.

“Circumstances on Arianus prevented me from avenging myself on our ancient enemy. Now, I’ve got another Sartan, and this time it won’t matter. No one will miss crazy Zifnab. Hell, that Quindiniar woman will probably give me a medal!

Haplo stood in the hatchway, his body blocking the bridge’s only exit. “I warned you. You shouldn’t have come down here, old man. Now you’ve seen what you shouldn’t have seen.” He began to unwind the bandages. “Now you’re going to have to die. I know you’re a Sartan. They’re the only ones who have the power to unravel my magic. Tell me one thing. Where are the rest of your people?”

“I was afraid of this,” said Zifnab, gazing at Haplo sadly. “This is no way for a savior to behave, you know that.”

“I’m no savior. In a way, you might say I’m the opposite. I’m supposed to bring trouble, chaos, to prepare for the day • when My Lord will enter this world and claim it for his own. We will rule who, by rights, should have ruled long ago. You must know who I am, now. Take a look around you, Sartan. Recognize the runes? Or maybe you’ve known who I was all along. After all, you predicted my coming. I’d like to know how you did that.” Unwinding the bandages, revealing the sigla tattooed on his hands, Haplo advanced on the old man.

Zifnab did not back up, did not retreat before him. The old man stood his ground, facing the Patryn with an air of quiet dignity. “You’ve made a mistake,” he said, his voice quiet, his .eyes suddenly sharp and shrewd. “I’m not a Sartan.”

“Uh, huh.” Haplo tossed the bandages onto the deck, rubbing the runes on his skin. “Just the fact that you’re denying it proves my point. Except the Sartan were never known to lie. But then, they were never known to go senile either.” Haplo grabbed hold of the old man’s arm, feeling the bones fragile and brittle in his grasp. “Talk, Zifnab, or whatever your real name is. I have the power to rupture the bones, one by one, inside your flesh. It’s an extremely painful way to die. I’ll start on the hands, work my way down your body. By the time I reach your spine, you’ll be begging me for release.”

At his feet, the dog whined and rubbed against the Patryn’s knee. Haplo ignored the animal, his grip tightened around Zifnab’s wrist. He placed his other hand, palm down, directly over the old man’s heart.

“Tell me the truth, and I’ll end it quickly. What I do to bones, I can do to organs. The heart bursts. It’s painful, but fast.”

*

Haplo had to give the old man credit. Stronger men than Zifnab had trembled in the Patryn’s grasp. The old man was calm. If he was afraid, he controlled his fear well.

“I am telling you the truth. I’m not a Sartan.”

Haplo’s grip tightened. He made ready to speak the first rune, the rune that would send a jolt of agony through the frail body. Zifnab held perfectly still.

“As for how I undid your magic, there are forces in this universe of which you have no knowledge.” The eyes, never leaving Haplo’s face, narrowed. “Forces that have remained hidden because you have never searched for them.”

“Then why don’t you use these forces to save your life, old man?”

“I am.”

Haplo shook his head in disgust and spoke the first rune. The sigla on his hand glowed blue. The power flowed from his body into the old man’s. Haplo could feel wrist bones burst and turn to mush in his grip. Zifnab gave a suppressed groan.

Haplo barely saw, out of the corner of his eye, the dog hurtling through the air toward him. He had time to raise his arm to block the attack. The force of the blow knocked him to the deck, slammed the air from his body. He lay gasping, trying to catch his breath. The dog stood over him, licking his face.

“Dear, dear. Are you hurt, my boy?” Zifnab leaned over him solicitously, offering a hand to help him up—the same hand Haplo had crushed. Haplo stared at it, saw the wrist bones standing out clearly beneath the stretched, aged skin. They appeared whole and intact. The old man had not spoken any runes, traced any in the air. Haplo, studying the field of magic around him, could detect no sign that it had been disturbed. But he had felt the bone break!

Shoving the old man’s hand aside, Haplo regained his feet. “You’re good,” he acknowledged. “But how long can you keep it up? An old geezer like you.” He took a step toward the old man and halted. The dog stood between them.

“Dog! Get!” ordered Haplo.

The animal held its ground, gazed up at its master with unhappy, pleading eyes.

Zifnab, smiling gently, patted the black-furred head. “Good boy. I thought so.” He nodded wisely, solemnly. “I know all about the dog, you see.”

“Whatever the devil that means!”

“Precisely, dear boy,” said the old man, beaming at him. “And now that we’re all nicely acquainted, we’d best be on our way.” Zifnab turned around, hovered over the steering stone, rubbing his hands eagerly. “I’m really curious to see how this works.” Reaching into a pocket of his mouse-colored robes, he pulled out a chain to which nothing was attached, and stared at it. “My ears and whiskers! We’re late.”

Haplo glared at the dog. “Get!”

The dog slunk down on its belly, crawled across the deck and took refuge in a corner. Head lying on its paws, the animal whimpered. Haplo took a step toward the old man.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Zifnab stated emphatically, snapping shut nothing and slipping the chain back in his pocket. “Paithan’s in danger—”

“Paithan.” Haplo paused.

“Quindiniar’s son. Fine lad. You can ask him those questions you’ve been wanting to ask: all about the political situation among the humans, what it would take to make the elves go to war, how to stir up the dwarves. Paithan knows all the answers. Not that it will make much difference now.” Zifnab sighed, shook his head. “Politics don’t matter to the dead. But we’ll save some of them. The best and the brightest. And, now, we really must be going.” The old man gazed around with interest. “How do you fly this contraption anyway?”

Irritably scratching the tattoos on the back of his hand, Haplo stared at the old wizard.

A Sartan—he has to be! That’s the only way he could heal himself. Unless he didn’t heal himself. Maybe I made a mistake in the rune-twining, maybe I only thought I crushed his wrist. And the dog, protecting him. That doesn’t mean much. The animal takes strange likings. There was that time on Arianus when the mutt saved the life of that dwarven woman I was going to have to kill. Destroyer, savior …

“All right, old man. I’ll.go along with whatever game you’re playing.” Haplo knelt down, scratched the dog’s silky ears. The animal’s tail brushed the floor, pleased that all was forgiven. “But just until I figure out the rules. When I do, it’s winner take all. And I intend to win.” Straightening, he placed his hands upon the steering stone. “Where are we headed?”

Zifnab blinked, confused. “I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea,” he admitted. “But, by god!” he added solemnly. “I’ll know when I get there!”