Serpent Mage

15

“Well, tear out my whiskers by the roots!”

Haplo heard the dwarf’s awed murmur, felt something of the same himself. The gigantic dragon-snake prostrated its head on the ground before the Patryn. Its fellows had drawn back a respectful distance, their scaled necks arched, heads bowed, slit-eyes closed.

Haplo remained tense, wary, alert. Dragons were intelligent, tricky creatures, not to be trusted.

The dragon-snake lifted its head, reared its body almost to the cavern’s high ceiling. The mensch gasped and cried out. Haplo raised a hand.

“Be quiet,” he ordered.

The dragon-snake was, apparently, merely shifting to a more comfortable position. It wound its body round and round, looping in upon itself, and came to rest with its head pillowed on its own coils.

“Now, we can speak together more comfortably. Please, Patryn, be seated. Welcome to Draknor.”[26]

The dragon-snake spoke the Patryn language, a rune-based language that should have presented images to Haplo’s mind, as well as words. But he saw nothing, heard only the sound, and it was flat and lifeless. A shiver crawled over the Patryn’s skin. It was as if the dragons had reduced the power of the runes to nothing more than shapes and figures, to be manipulated at will.

“Thank you, Royal One.” Haplo seated himself again, never taking his eyes from the dragon-snake.

The snake’s own slit-eyed gaze slid to the mensch, who had not moved. “But why do our young guests keep from drying themselves at the fire? Is the blaze too hot? Perhaps not hot enough. We know so little of you frail beings, we cannot judge properly ...”

Haplo shook his head. “They’re afraid of you, Royal One. After what you did to their people, I can hardly blame them.”

The dragon-snake shifted its coils. Its eyelids closed, a soft, sibilant sigh escaped its toothless mouth. “Ah, I fear we’ve made a terrible mistake. But we will make it up to them.”

The red eyes opened, the snake’s tone was anxious. “You have influence over them? They trust you? Yes, of course. Assure them that we mean them no harm. We will do everything in our power to make their stay among us comfortable. A warm place to sleep? Food, dry clothing? Precious jewels, gold, silver? Will all this make them happy, soothe their fright?”

The ground in front of Haplo was suddenly littered with bowls and baskets and dishes and trays containing every type of luscious food imaginable: mounds of fragrant fruit, plates of steaming meat, bottles of wine, casks of foaming ale.

Clothing of all make and description billowed in the air like multicolored, silken birds, fluttered down to land at Alake’s feet, draped over Devon’s nerveless arms, sparkled in Grundle’s startled eyes. Caskets of emeralds and sapphires and pearls spilled their shining contents into the sand. Mounds of golden coins gleamed in the fire’s light.

Another fire sprang up in the distance, revealing a cave within a cave.

“It is warm and dry,” said the dragon-snake. Speaking to the mensch, it had switched to the human language. “We have filled it with sweet grasses for your beds. You must be exhausted and hungry.” It spoke in elven. “Please, take our gifts, retire for the night.” It concluded in dwarven. “You need have no fear. Your slumber will be safe, blessed. My people will guard it.” The other dragon-snakes wove their bodies in a sinuous dance, the words “safe . . . blessed” hissed through the echoing cave.

The mensch, having expected death, torture, torment, were completely disarmed and bewildered by the lavish gifts. They stood staring, dazed and, if anything, more frightened.

Grundle was the first to recover her tongue. A circlet of silver had dropped out of the air, onto her head, over one eye. Floundering through a heap of cloth and mounds of food, she stomped over to Haplo.

Hands on her hips, she pointedly ignored the dragon-snakes, spoke to the Patryn as if no one else was on the beach except the two of them.

“What is all this? What’s going on? What are you two talking about in that dark language of yours?”

“The dragon-snake says there’s been a mistake. It’s trying to make amends. I think—” Haplo began, but he didn’t get far.

“Amends!” Grundle raised a clenched fist, whipped around to face the dragon-snake. “For destroying the sun-chasers, for butchering Alake’s people, for torturing that poor elf! I’ll give the beast amends. I’ll—” Haplo caught hold of her, dragged her down, squirming and kicking. “Stop it, you little fool! You want to get us all killed?”

Panting, Grundle glared up at him. He held her fast until he felt the sturdy body relax in his grip.

“I’m all right now,” she told him sullenly.

He let her up. She crouched at his side, rubbing her bruised wrists. Haplo motioned to the other two to come join them.

“Listen to me, all of you!” he said. “I’m going to try to find out what’s going on. But in the meantime, you three will accept the dragon’s hospitality with a good grace. We might yet come out alive—you and your people. That’s why you came, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Haplo,” said Alake. “We’ll do what you say.”

“I don’t suppose we have much choice, do we?” Devon asked, his words muffled by the wet scarf around his head.

Grundle nodded grudgingly. “But I still don’t trust them!” she added, shaking her whiskers at the snakes in defiance.

“Good.” Haplo smiled. “I don’t either. Keep your eyes and ears open, your mouths shut. Now, do as the dragon-snake suggests. Go to that cave. You and Alake and . . . uh—”

“Sabia.”

“Sabia. You three go into that cave and try to get some sleep. Take dry clothes with you and some wine and whatever else you want. Food, maybe.” Grundle sniffed. “It’s probably poisoned.”

Haplo checked an exasperated sigh. “If they wanted to kill you, they could have dropped an ax on your head, instead of that.” He pointed to the silver crown, which had once more slipped down over one eye.

Removing the circlet, the dwarf regarded it suspiciously, then she shrugged.

“You make sense,” she said, sounding surprised.

Tossing the silver to the sand, she grabbed a basket of bread in one hand, hefted a small barrel of ale with the other, and trudged off toward the cave.

“Go with her,” Haplo told Alake, who was lingering near him. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Yes, I know. I ... I will take your clothes and dry them for you,” Alake offered.

She darted Haplo a sidelong glance, then swiftly averted her gaze and started to pick up his wet trousers.

“No need,” Haplo said, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Thank you, but the dragon-snakes have provided clothing for me, as well. However, you might want to pick out something for ... her . . . Sabia. Something that fits better.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Alake seemed relieved to have a task to perform. She began to sort among the vast amount of raiments scattered about the sand. Finding what she wanted, she looked back at Haplo with a smile, cast a cool, defiant glance at the dragon-snakes, then hurried off after Grundle. Devon, still keeping to the shadows, was gathering up food and wine. He was about to follow the others to the cave, when Haplo beckoned.

“Two of you sleep. One stays awake. Understand?” He spoke softly, in elven. Devon made no response, merely nodded and went on his way.

Haplo turned back to the dragon-snake, who had rested quietly the entire time, its head on its coiled body, its eyes blinking lazily in the firelight.

“Truly,” it said, when the three had disappeared into the cave, “you Patryns have a way with the mensch. If your people had been free to help them, all these centuries, what marvelous things might they have accomplished. Alas, it was not to be.”

The dragon-snake sadly mused to itself long moments, then shifted its great bulk.

“However, now that you have escaped your unjust incarceration, you will, no doubt, make up for wasted time and opportunity. Tell me about your people and your plans.”

Haplo shrugged. “Our story is long, Royal One, and, though it is bitter to us, would probably be boring to others.” He had no intention of telling these creatures anything about his people. His body was dry; he could see the faint outlines of the sigla returning to his skin. “Do you mind if I get dressed?” He had noticed, suddenly, a number of weapons, lying among the piles of jewels and clothing. He wanted a closer look.

“Please. By all means. How thoughtless of me not to have suggested it. But then”—the snake glanced complacently at its own scaled skin—“we tend not to think in such terms.”

Haplo rummaged among the mass of clothing, found what he needed, and dressed himself. All the while his eyes were on a sword. He wondered how he could manage to pick it up without arousing the snake’s ire.

“But the sword is yours, Master,” said the dragon-snake calmly. Haplo looked at it in wary astonishment.

“It is not wise to go unarmed in the presence of your enemy,” the dragon-snake remarked.

Haplo lifted the sword, hefted it experimentally, liked the way it felt. Almost as if it had been made for his hand. He found a swordbelt, buckled it on, slid the weapon in its sheath. “By enemy, I take it you mean the Sartan, Royal One.”

“Who else?” The dragon-snake appeared confused. Then, suddenly, it understood.

“Ah, you refer to us. I should have known. You formed your opinion of us after talking to them.” It glanced at the cave.

“Provided they told me the truth,” Haplo said.

“Oh, they did. I’m certain.” The dragon-snake sighed again and its sigh was echoed by its fellows. “We acted hastily and perhaps were, shall we say, overzealous in our efforts to intimidate them. But all creatures have a right to defend themselves. Is the wolf called cruel when he goes for the throat of the lion?”

Haplo grunted, glanced at the display of magical power that was manifest on the ground all around him. “You want me to believe you’re frightened of a handful of elves, humans, and dwarves?”

“Not the mensch,” hissed the dragon-snake. “Those who stand behind the mensch! Those who brought them here!”

“The Sartan.”

“Yes! Your ancient enemy and ours.”

“You’re saying that the Sartan are here, on Chelestra.”

“An entire city of them. Led by one whose name is not unfamiliar to you.”

“Samah?” Haplo frowned. “So you said to me on board the ship, Royal One. But it can’t be the same Samah, the Councillor responsible for imprisoning us—”

“The one! The same!” The dragon-snake reared up from among its coils, its red-green eyes flared. Whispering to itself, seething, it slowly calmed, settled back down. “By the way, what are you called, Patryn?”

“Haplo.”

“Haplo.” The snake seemed to taste the word, found it to its liking. “Then, Haplo, I will tell you how it is that this Samah has returned again to a universe he and those of his accursed race nearly destroyed.

“After the Sundering, Samah and his Council of Seven looked over the four new worlds they had created and chose the most beautiful among them on which to make their home. They brought with them their favorites among the mensch, to serve as their slaves, and founded their city of Surunan on a magically created landmass which they call the Chalice.

“Imagine their surprise when they discovered that their beautiful world was already inhabited.”

“Your people, Royal One?”

The dragon-snake modestly lowered its head in acquiescence.

“But where did you come from? Who created you?”

“You did, Patryn,” said the dragon-snake softly.

Haplo frowned, puzzled. But before he could question further, the dragon-snake had continued on.

“At first, we welcomed these newcomers to our world. We hoped for prosperous, peaceful interaction with them. But Samah hated us, because he could not enslave us, as he enslaved the wretched mensch. He and the other Council members attacked us, completely without provocation. Naturally, we defended ourselves. We did not kill them, however, but sent them running back to their city in disgrace.”

“You defeated Samah?” Haplo asked, dubious. “The most powerful of all the Sartan who ever lived?”

“You may have noticed a certain odd property of this seawater . . .” said the dragon snake suggestively.

“I didn’t drown in it, if that’s what you mean, Royal One. I can breathe it the same as air.”

“I wasn’t referring to that.” Haplo shook his head. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“Indeed?” The snake shifted its bulk slightly, almost as if it were laughing. “I would have guessed the seawater to have the same effect on the magic of both races—Sartan and Patryns. Most peculiar.”

Haplo could scarcely breathe. The terrible joy that filled his being produced an actual, physical pain in his chest. He needed an outlet for his emotion, reached for some food, though he wasn’t hungry.

The seawater in this world destroyed Sartan magic! And on this world, surrounded by seawater, was the Patryn’s most hated enemy. Haplo lifted a wineskin, nearly dropped it. His hands shook with elation. Carefully, he laid the wineskin back down. Be calm. Be wary. Don’t trust these creatures. He tried to appear casual. He took a bite of something, not knowing or caring what. “But all this you describe must have happened many generations ago. How is it possible that Samah is alive, Royal One? Perhaps you’ve made a mistake.”

“No mistake,” said the dragon-snake. “But . . . the food. Is it to your liking? Will you have more of anything?”

Haplo hadn’t tasted what he put in his mouth. “No, thank you. Please go on.” The snake obliged. “We hoped that, after we had chastised them, the Sartan would leave us alone, allow us to pursue our lives in peace. But Samah was furious at us. We had made him look the fool in the eyes of the mensch, who, seeing these godlike creatures brought so low, began to talk openly of revolt. He vowed revenge on us, no matter what the cost to his people or to the innocent mensch.

“Using their magical powers—you may guess, by the way, that the Sartan had now an extreme aversion to seawater—Samah and the Council wrenched loose the seastar from its stationary position in the center of this world. The seasun began drifting away. The water grew colder, the temperature in both their Chalice and in our seamoon began to drop. Thus, though it meant that they themselves would be forced to abandon the world, fleeing through Death’s Gate, the Sartan hoped to freeze us to death.

“Of course they would have, in the process, frozen the mensch, as well. But what were a few thousand humans, dwarves, and elves, compared to the vast numbers already sacrificed to Sartan ambition during the Sundering? The mensch discovered this evil plot, however, and rebelled against their masters. They built ships and fled into the Goodsea, chasing after the seasun.

“The mensch exodus appalled and alarmed the Sartan. They didn’t want this world for themselves any longer, but neither did they intend to leave it to the mensch. They swore that not one mensch should survive. At this point, we had a choice to make.”

The dragon-snake sighed, raised its head, looked at its fellows with pride.

“We could have gone with the mensch. They begged us to go, to protect them from whales and other fearsome creatures of the deep brought here by the Sartan to keep the mensch in line. But we knew that we were the only ones who could stand between the mensch and the fury of the Sartan. We chose to stay behind, though it meant that we must suffer.

“We saved the mensch and prevented the Sartan from fleeing through Death’s Gate. The ice closed in on them and on us. They had no choice but to seek refuge in the Sleep. We hibernated, knowing that someday the seastar would drift this direction again. Our enemies would awake, and so would we.”

“But why, then, Royal One, did you attack the mensch? You were once their saviors.”

“Yes, but that was long, long ago. They have forgotten all about us and the sacrifice we made.” The dragon-snake sighed heavily, sank back down on its coils. “I suppose that we should have taken the passage of time into account and made allowances, but we were thrilled over returning to this beautiful world and eager to make the acquaintance of the descendants of those for whom we had risked all to save.

“We came upon the mensch too suddenly, without warning. Admittedly, we are not lovely to look upon. Our smell, I am told, offends the nostrils. Our size intimidates. The mensch were horribly frightened and attacked us. Hurt by such ingratitude, we, I regret to say, fought back. Sometimes we do not know our own strength.”

The dragon-snake sighed again. Its fellows, deeply affected, whispered in grief, lowered their heads into the sand.

“When we were able to view the matter in a calmer light, we at once acknowledged that much of the blame lay with us. But how could we rectify it? If we came upon the mensch again, they would only redouble their efforts to kill us. And so we decided to bring the mensch to us. One of each race, a daughter of each of the royal households. If we could convince these gentle damsels that we meant no harm, then they would return to their people, offer our apologies, and all would be well. We would all live in peace and harmony.” Gentle damsel. Grundle? Haplo chuckled to himself at the thought. But he said nothing, brushed it aside, brushed aside any doubts he might have had over the dragon-snake’s veracity.

Parts of the snake’s story didn’t exactly fit the facts as he’d heard them from the mensch, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was a chance to strike a blow, a telling blow, at the Sartan.

“Peace and harmony are all very well, Royal One,” Haplo said, watching the snake closely, feeling his way, “but the Sartan will never allow it. Once they know you have returned, they’ll do their best to destroy you.”

“Too true,” agreed the dragon-snake. “Destroy us and enslave the mensch. But what can be done? Our numbers are few; many of us did not survive the hibernation. And the Sartan, or so we hear from our spies, the gushni,[27] are stronger than ever. They’ve received reinforcements through Death’s Gate.”

“Reinforcements.” Haplo shook his head. “That’s not possible . . .”

“One has come, at least,” The dragon-snake spoke with conviction. “A Sartan who travels freely through Death’s Gate, visiting other worlds. He disguises himself as a mensch, calls himself by a mensch name. He pretends to be bumbling and clumsy, but we know him for what he is. He is the one we call Serpent Mage. And he is far more powerful than Samah himself.” The dragon-snake’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you laugh, Patryn?”

“I’m sorry, Royal One,” said Haplo, grinning, “but I know this Sartan. And you don’t need to worry about him. He doesn’t pretend to be bumbling and clumsy. He is bumbling and clumsy. And he doesn’t travel through Death’s Gate. More likely he fell through it, by accident.”

“He’s not powerful?”

Haplo jerked a thumb toward the cave. “Those mensch in there are more powerful.”

“You astonish me,” stated the dragon-snake, and it did truly seem surprised. It cast a slit-eyed, red-green glance at its fellows. “All our information led us to believe quite the opposite. He is the Serpent Mage.”

“Your information’s wrong,” said Haplo, shaking his head, unable to keep from laughing again at the thought. Alfred, a Serpent Mage! Whatever that was, he wasn’t.

“Well, well, well. My, my, my,” mused the dragon-snake. “This does require some rethinking. But, we seem to have strayed from your original point. I asked what could be done about the Sartan. You, I think, have the answer.” Haplo took several steps nearer the dragon-snake, ignoring the faint warning glow of the sigla on his skin.

“These three races of mensch get along well together. They were, in fact, preparing to unite to go to war against you. What if we convinced them that they had a more dangerous foe?”

The dragon-snake’s eyes opened wide, the red-green glow turned completely red, was blinding in its intensity. Haplo squinted against it, was forced to shield his eyes from the glare with an upraised hand.

“But these mensch are peace-loving. They won’t fight.”

“I have a plan, Royal One. Believe me, if it comes to their survival, they’ll fight.”

“I see the shape of your plan in your mind and you are right, it will work.” The dragon-snake closed its eyes, lowered its head. “Truly, Haplo, you Patryns deserve to be the masters of this world. We bow before you.” The dragon-snakes all prostrated their heads in the dust, gigantic bodies writhed in homage. Haplo felt suddenly exhausted, so weary that he staggered where he stood, almost fell.

“Go, now, to your well-deserved rest,” whispered the dragon-snake. Haplo stumbled off across the sand, heading for the cave where the mensch sheltered. He could not remember ever feeling this tired before, assumed it must be a reaction to the loss of his magic. He entered the cave, cast one glance around at the mensch, assured them they were safe, then slumped to the ground, sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The king dragon-snake rested its head comfortably once again on its coils, red-green eyes gleamed.