Serpent Mage

11

Lay on his pallet on board the strange vessel, doing nothing but resting and staring at his arms and his hands. The sigla 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.

“That’s enough, Grundle!” Alake snapped. “What he says makes perfect sense.”

“Oh, he can talk well enough,” the dwarf returned. “Not that he said much of anything, if you’ll notice. But I’d like to hear what he’s got to say about the dragon-snakes.”

The elf maid had returned with the water. Handing the pitcher to Alake, the elf said, in a low voice, “Grundle is right. We need to know about the dragon-snakes.”

Alake gave Haplo an apologetic glance. “Sabia and Grundle fear that you have been sent by the dragon-snakes to spy on us. I have no idea why, since we are their captives and we go to meet our doom willingly—”

“Wait! Slow down.” Haplo raised a hand to halt the flood. He eyed the young women. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. But, before you explain, let me tell you that the person who sent me is my liege lord. He is a man, not a dragon. And from what I’ve seen of dragons in my world, I wouldn’t do a damn thing for one except kill it.”

Haplo spoke quietly, his tone and manner convincing. And, in this, he spoke the truth. Dragons in the Labyrinth are highly intelligent, fearsome beings. He’d seen other dragons during his travels. Some were evil, others purportedly good, but he’d found nothing in any of the creatures he trusted.

“Now,” continued Haplo, seeing the dwarf opening her mouth, “suppose you tell me what you three are doing on board this ship all alone.”

“Who says we’re alone?” Grundle struck in, but her protest was faint and halfhearted.

It wasn’t so much that the three girls believed him, Haplo realized, but that they wanted to believe him. After Haplo’d heard their story, he understood why.

He listened with outward composure to Alake tell their tale. Inwardly, he was fuming. If he had believed in a Higher Power controlling his destiny, which he most assuredly did not, despite Alfred’s tricks to convince him otherwise,[22] then he would have thought the Higher Power was laughing heartily. Weakened in his own magic, weaker than he’d ever been in his life, Haplo’d managed to get himself rescued by three sacrificial lambs trotting meekly to their deaths!

“You can’t be serious!”

“We are,” said Alake. “It is for the sake of our people.”

“You chose to do this? You haven’t tried to escape? To get away?”

“No, and we won’t, either,” said Grundle resolutely. “This was our decision. Our parents didn’t even know we were leaving. They would have tried to stop us.”

“And they would have been right!” Haplo glared at the three. Trotting along to their deaths . . . and taking him with them!

Alake’s voice sank to a whisper. “You think we’re fools, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Haplo answered bluntly. “These dragon-snakes, from what you’ve told me, have tortured and murdered people. And you think they’re going to keep their word, accept three sacrifices, then meekly slither away?” Grundle cleared her throat loudly, drummed her heels on the deck. “Then why make the bargain at all? What do the dragon-snakes get out of it? Why not just murder us and be done with it?”

“What do the dragon-snakes get out of it? I’ll tell you what they get. Fear. Anguish. Chaos. In my land, we have creatures that live off fear, thrive off it. Think about it. These dragon-snakes, if they’re as powerful as you say, could have come in the night and attacked your seamoons. But, no. What do they do? They come by day. They wreak havoc on small numbers of your people. They give messages, demand sacrifices. And look at the results!

“Your people are far more terrified now than they would have been if they’d had to beat off a sudden attack. And the three of you running off like this has only made things worse for your people, not better.” Alake wilted beneath Haplo’s glowering gaze. Even the stubborn Grundle appeared to lose her defiant attitude, and began to tug uneasily at her side whiskers. Only Sabia, the elf maid, remained cool and calm. She sat on her stool, straight-backed, upright, looking distant and aloof, as if she alone were content with her decision. Nothing he said had made a difference to her. Odd. But then the elf maid was odd. Haplo couldn’t figure out why. There was something about her . . .

Her.

Haplo noticed, suddenly, the way Sabia was sitting. When she’d first sat down, she kept her knees close together, ankles demurely crossed beneath the long skirt. But during Alake’s long retelling of their woeful tale, the elf maid had relaxed, forgotten herself. Now she was sitting spraddle-legged on the short stool, her knees akimbo, her hands resting on her knees, her feet tucked behind.

If I’m right, Haplo thought, this is certain to clinch it. They’ll have no choice but to go along with me.

“What do you think’s happening right now in your family?” Haplo demanded of Alake. “Instead of preparing for war, as he should be doing, your father is now afraid to do anything! He doesn’t dare attack the dragon-snakes while they have you captive. He’s gnawed by remorse, grows weaker with despair every day.”

Alake was weeping silently. Sabia reached out, took hold of her hand. Haplo rose to his feet, began to pace the small cabin.

“And you.” He rounded on the dwarf. “Your people? What are they doing? Arming themselves, or mourning the loss of their princess? All of them, waiting. Waiting in hope and in dread. And the longer they wait, the larger their fear grows.”

“They’ll fight!” Grundle insisted, but her voice quivered. Haplo ignored her, continued to pace, ten steps each direction, every turn bringing him nearer Sabia, who was busy trying to comfort Alake. Grundle sprang up suddenly from her stool, stood facing Haplo defiantly, small hands on her hips.

“We knew that our sacrifice might be for nothing. But it seemed to us that if there was the tiniest chance that the dragon-snakes would keep their part of the bargain, then it was worth it to save our people. And I still say so. What about you Alake? Sabia?”

Alake’s brown eyes shimmered with tears, but she managed to nod emphatically.

“I agree,” said Sabia, her voice muffled by the scarf. “We must go through with it. For the sake of our people.”

“The dragon-snakes keep their part of the bargain, eh?” Haplo eyed them in grim amusement. “And how about you? What about you keeping your part of the bargain? If these beasts are, by some remote chance, fair and honorable, how do you think they’ll react when they find out they’ve been cheated?” Reaching out his hand, Haplo caught hold of Sabia’s veil and yanked it off. Sabia snatched furilely at the scarf. When that failed, she averted her face, lowered her head. “Really, sir, what are you doing?” Too late, she brought her knees together, crossed her ankles.

“Three royal daughters.” Haplo raised an eyebrow. “What were you planning to tell the dragon-snakes? That elf maids all look like they’ve got an apple stuck in their throats? That all elf maids have strong jawlines and well-developed, muscular shoulders? That this is why their chests are flat? Not to mention other accoutrements not generally found on maidens.” Haplo shifted his gaze meaningfully to the elf’s groin.

Sabia blushed as deeply as if he had been a she. He stole a glance at Alake, who was staring at him, stricken, then at Grundle, who sighed and shook her head.

The young elf stood up, faced Haplo defiantly.

“You are right, sir. I thought only to save the girl I loved and was to have married. It never occurred to me that this deception would give the dragon-snakes the chance to claim that we’d broken faith with them.”

“We never thought about that!” Alake clasped her hands together, fingers twisting nervously. “The dragon-snakes will be furious ...”

“Maybe it won’t matter.”

That was the dwarf, Grundle, causing trouble again. Haplo could have cheerfully strangled her.

“Devon’s not a princess, but he’s a prince. As long as the dragon-snakes have three people from royal households, what do they care if we’re male or female?”

“They did say three daughters,” Alake murmured, looking pathetically hopeful.

“But perhaps Grundle’s right ...”

Haplo decided that it was time to end this once and for all. “Did it ever occur to you that the dragons may not intend to kill you? They may have other plans for you, plans that require females. Breeding, for example?” Alake moaned, covered her mouth with her hands. The elf put his arm around her comfortingly, said something to her in a low voice. Grundle was as pale as the dwarf’s nut-brown skin would allow. She collapsed back onto a stool, stared unhappily at the deck beneath her feet.

I meant to frighten them. I succeeded, and that’s all that matters, Haplo told himself coldly. Now they’ll go along with me. No more arguments. I’ll take over this ship, ditch these three mensch somewhere, and get on about my business.

“What do you want us to do, sir?” asked the elf.

“First, what’s your real name?” Haplo growled.

“Devon of the House of—”

“Devon will do. What or who’s steering this ship? Not you, I take it. Who else is on board?”

“We . . . don’t know, sir.” Devon said helplessly. “We assume it’s the dragon-snakes. Their magic . . .”

“You haven’t tried to change course? Stop the ship?”

“We can’t even get close to the steerage. There’s something horrible in there.”

“What is it? Can you see it?”

“No,” Devon admitted, ashamed. “We . . . couldn’t get close enough to see anything.”

“It’s a terrible feeling, I tell you!” stated Grundle sullenly, defiantly.

“Like walking into death.”

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now,” Haplo snapped. The three glanced at each other, lowered their heads. Children, lost and alone, facing a dreadful fate. Haplo regretted his harsh comment. You don’t want to frighten them too much, he cautioned. You’re going to need their help.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” he apologized gruffly. “But we have a saying in my world: The dragon is always smaller in the eye than in the mind.”

“Meaning it’s better to know the truth,” said Alake, wiping away her tears.

“You’re right. I’m not nearly as frightened as I was. Though, if what you say is true, I have more reason to be.”

“It’s like having a tooth pulled,” said Grundle. “You always suffer more thinking about it than having it done.” She cocked a bright eye at Haplo.

“You’re pretty smart ... for a human. Where did you say you came from?” Haplo looked sharply at the dwarf. A shrewd thinker, that one. He would have to keep an eye on her. Right now, though, he didn’t have time to waste fending off her needling jabs.

“You shouldn’t be as concerned about where I’ve been as where you’re going unless we can get this ship turned around. Which way’s the steerage from here?”

“But how will you do that?” Alake asked him, drawing near. Her eyes, when she looked at him, were warm and soft. “It’s obviously being controlled by powerful magic.”

“I have some knowledge of magic, myself,” said Haplo. Ordinarily, he preferred to keep such knowledge to himself, but in this case, the mensch would see him using his magic. Better to prepare them in advance.

“Do you?” Alake drew a deep breath. “So do I. I’ve been admitted to the Third House. What House are you?”

Haplo recalled what little he knew of the human’s crude talent for the arcane, remembered that they loved nothing more than to shroud even the most rudimentary magical spells in mystery.

“If you are that high in the ranking, you must know that I am not permitted to speak of it,” he said.

His mild rebuke did him no harm with the human girl. By her shining eyes, her admiration for him increased.

“Forgive me,” she said immediately. “It was wrong of me to ask. We’ll show you the way.”

The dwarf cast him another shrewd glance, tugged at her side whiskers. Alake guided him through the small, narrow corridors of the ship. Grundle and Devon came along, the dwarf pointing out to him the various mechanical devices that powered the vessel, which she called a “submersible.” Haplo, glancing out the portholes, could seeing nothing but water, lit by a soft, blue-green light, above, below, and all around.

He was beginning to think that this so-called world of water was, in truth, a world made of nothing but water. There must be land somewhere. Obviously, people who built boats to sail the seas didn’t live in those seas like fish. He was intensely curious to know about the seamoons the dwarf had mentioned, must try to think of a way to find out that wouldn’t start the wheels turning in the heads of these mensch. He also needed to know more about the seawater itself, whether his growing misgivings about it were true.

Grundle and Devon were, between them, explaining how the submersible operated. Built by dwarves, it was powered by a combination of dwarven mechanical ingenuity and elven mechanical magic.

It seemed, from what Haplo could piece together out of the somewhat confused explanation given him by the dwarf, that the main difficulty in sinking (sailing) a vessel was to get it away from the influence of the seamoons. Due to the gravitational push (not pull) of the moons, the submersibles, which were filled with air, were naturally less dense than the water around them and tended to float toward the worlds as though being drawn by a rope. In order to cause the submersible to sink, it was necessary to increase the density of the ship without flooding it full of water.

Here, Devon explained, was where the elven magic came in. Special magical crystals, engineered by the elven wizards, could increase or decrease their own mass on command. Called mass displacers, these crystals actually solved two problems for ships. First, by increasing the mass in the keel, the ships could sink into the sea as their density became greater than that of the water around them. Second, as the ship sank away from the influence of the outward-pressing gravity of the worlds, the mass displacers provided an artificial gravity for the occupants of the submersible.

Haplo only vaguely understood the concept, understood nothing of “outward-pressing gravity” and “mass displacers.” Understood nothing, except that they were magic.

“But,” said Haplo casually, appearing to be intensely interested in a rat’s tangle of ropes, pulleys, and gears, “I didn’t think magic worked in the seawater.”

Alake looked startled, at first, then she smiled. “Of course. You are testing me. I would give you the correct response, but not in front of the uninitiated.” She nodded at Grundle and Devon.

“Humpf!” grunted the dwarf, unimpressed. “This way to the pilot’s house.” She began to climb the ladder leading to the topmost deck. Devon and Alake went up after her.

Haplo followed, said nothing more. He hadn’t missed Alake’s surprised expression. Apparently, human and elven magic worked in the sea. And, since something was guiding the boat, dragon magic worked in the seawater, as well, Seawater that had, so to speak, washed away Haplo’s magic. Or had it? Maybe his debilitation had been caused by the passage through Death’s Gate. Perhaps . . .

A tingling sensation on Haplo’s skin interrupted his ruminations. It was slight, barely felt, as if silken threads of cobwebs were brushing across his flesh. He recognized it, wished he’d thought to wrap the blanket around him. A quick glance confirmed his fears. The sigla on his skin were beginning to glow, a sign of danger. The light was faint, faint as the runes themselves, but his magic was warning him as best it could in his weakened state. The mensch pulled themselves up over the top, but did not proceed farther. Devon’s lips tightened. Grundle gave a sudden, loud, nervous “hem!” that made everyone jump. Alake began to whisper to herself, probably some sort of charm. The tingling on Haplo’s arms became almost maddening, like the tiny feet of myriad spiders crawling over him. His body was instinctively preparing itself to face danger. Adrenaline pumped, his mouth dried, his stomach muscles tightened. He tensed, searched every shadow, cursed the faint light of the sigla, cursed the fact that he was weak.

The dwarf lifted a quivering hand, pointed ahead, at a darkened doorway located at the end of the corridor. “That’s . . . the steerage.” Fear flowed from out that doorway like a dark river, threatening to drown them in its suffocating tide. The mensch huddled together, staring with horrible fascination down the corridor. None of them had noticed his alteration yet. Alake shivered. Grundle was panting like a dog. Devon leaned weakly against the bulkheads. It was obvious the mensch could not go on. Haplo wasn’t certain he could.

Sweat trickled down his face. He was having difficulty breathing. And still no sign of anything! But he knew, now, where the danger was centered, and he was walking right toward it. He had never experienced fear like this, not in the darkest, most horrible cave in the Labyrinth. Every fiber of his being was urging him to run away as fast as he could. It took a concerted effort on his part to keep moving forward.

And, suddenly, he couldn’t. He came to a halt, near the mensch. Grundle looked around at him. Her eyes widened, she let out a crowing gasp. Alake and Devon shuddered, turned to stare.

Haplo saw himself reflected in three pair of astounded, frightened eyes, saw his body glowing a faint, iridescent blue, saw his face strained and drawn, glistening with sweat.

“What’s ahead of us?” he said, pointing. “What’s beyond that door?” It took him three breaths to squeeze the words past the tightness in his chest.

“What’s wrong with your skin?” Grundle cried shrilly. “You’re lit up—”

“What’s in there?” Haplo hissed through clenched teeth, glaring fiercely at the dwarf.

She gulped. “The ... the pilot’s house. You see?” she added, growing bolder.

“I was right. Like walking into death.”

“Yeah, you were right.” Haplo took a step forward. Alake clutched at him. “Wait! You can’t go! Don’t leave us!” Haplo turned. “Wherever it is they’re taking you—will it be any better?” The three stared at him, silently begging him to say he’d been wrong, to tell them everything was going to be all right. But he couldn’t. Truth, harsh and bitter, like a cold wind, blew out hope’s faint, flickering light.

“Then we’ll come with you,” said Devon, pale but resolute.

“No, you won’t. You’re going to stay right here, all three of you.” Haplo looked down the corridor, glanced again at his arms. The sigla’s glow was faint, the runes on his body barely visible. He cursed softly, beneath his breath. A child in the Labyrinth could defend itself better than he could, at this moment.

“Do any of you have a weapon? You, elf? A sword, a knife?”

“N-no,” Devon stammered.

“We were told not to bring any weapons,” Alake whispered fearfully.

“I have an ax,” Grundle said, tone defiant. “A battle-ax.” Alake stared at her, shocked.

“Bring it to me,” Haplo ordered, hoping it wasn’t some puny toy. The dwarf looked at him long and hard, then ran off. She returned, puffing, carrying what Haplo was relieved to see was a sturdy, well-made weapon.

“Grundle!” said Alake reprovingly. “You know what they told us!”

“As if I’d listen to a bunch of snakes!” Grundle scoffed. “Will this do?” She handed the ax to Haplo.

He grasped it, hefted it experimentally. Too bad he didn’t have time to inscribe runes on it, enhance it with magical power. Too bad he didn’t have the strength to do it, he reminded himself ruefully. Well, it was better than nothing.

Haplo started to creep forward. Hearing footsteps shuffling along behind him, he whirled around, glared at the mensch.

“You stay there! Understand?”

The three wavered, looked at each other, then at Haplo. Devon began to shake his head.

“Damn it!” Haplo swore. “What can three terrified kids do to help me? You’ll only get in my way. Now keep back!”

They did as he told them, huddling against the walls, watching him with wide, frightened eyes. He had the feeling, though, that the minute he turned his back, they’d be creeping up behind.

“Let them take care of themselves,” he muttered.

Ax in hand, he started down the corridor.

The sigla on his skin itched and burned. Despair closed in on him, the despair of the Labyrinth. You slept out of exhaustion, never to find easeful rest. You woke every day to fear and pain and death.

And anger.

Haplo concentrated on the anger. Anger had kept the Patryns alive in the Labyrinth. Anger carried him forward. He would not rush meekly to his fate like the mensch. He would fight. He ...

Haplo reached the door that led into the steerage, the door that threatened—guaranteed—death. Pausing, he looked, listened. He saw nothing but deep, impenetrable darkness, heard nothing but the beating of his own heart, his own short and shallow breathing. His grip on the ax was so tight his hand ached. He drew a breath, bounded inside.

Darkness closed over him, fell down on him like the nets the gibbering monkkers of the Labyrinth use to snare the unwary. The faint glow of his sigla disappeared. He knew himself to be completely helpless, completely at the mercy of whatever was in here. He stumbled about in a blind panic, fighting to free himself. The ax slid from his sweat-damp hand.

Two eyes, slits of red-green flame, slowly opened. The darkness took shape and form around the eyes, and Haplo was aware of a gigantic serpentine head. He was aware, too, of a ripple in the darkness, a shimmer of doubt, astonishment.

“A Patryn?” The voice was soft, sibilant.

“Yes,” Haplo answered, tense, wary. “I am a Patryn. What are you?” The eyes closed. The darkness returned, strong, intense, guarding. Haplo stretched out a groping hand, hoping to find the steering mechanism. His fingers brushed against cold, scaly flesh. A viscous liquid clung to his skin, chilled his blood, began to burn his skin. His stomach wrenched in revulsion. Shuddering, he tried to wipe the slime off on his trousers. The eyes opened again, their light eerie. The eyes were huge. It seemed he could have walked into the black, slit pupils without ducking.

“The Royal One bids me give you welcome and say to you, ‘The time is at hand. Your enemy is awake.’ ”

“I don’t know what you mean, what you’re talking about,” Haplo said warily. “What enemy?”

“The Royal One will explain everything if you will honor him with your presence. However, I am permitted to speak one word that may quicken your interest. I am to say, ‘Samah.’ ”

“Samah!” Haplo breathed. “Samah!”

He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. It didn’t make sense. He wanted to question the creature, but, suddenly, his heart began to pound. The blood rushed to his head, fire filled his brain. He took a step, staggered, and pitched forward onto his face to lie still and unmoving.

The green-red eyes glittered, slowly shut.