Serpent Mage

17

We are home. home!

I am torn between joy and sadness, for a terrible tragedy occurred while we were gone . . . But I’ll write down all, everything in its proper time and place.

As I work on this, I’m sitting in my room. Around me are all my dear possessions, just the way I left them. This astonished me beyond words. Dwarves are very practical-minded about death, unlike two other races I could mention. When a dwarf dies, his family and friends hold a night of mourning for their loss and a day of celebration for the dead one’s gain in now being a part of the One. Following that, all the dwarf’s possessions are distributed among family and friends. His room is cleaned out and another dwarf moves in.[29] I had assumed that the custom would have been followed in my case and was prepared for the fact that Cousin Fricka would, by now, be ensconced in my room. In fact, I don’t mind admitting that I was looking forward to bouncing my obnoxious relative and her curly side whiskers out the door and down the stairs.

However, it seems that my mother could not get it into her head that I was truly dead. She steadfastly refused to believe it, although Aunt Gertrude (so my father told me) actually went so far as to hint that my mother had lost her mind. At which point, according to my father, my mother decided to demonstrate her skill in ax-throwing, offering in a rather vigorous and alarming fashion to “part Gertrude’s hair” or words to that effect. While my mother was hauling the battle-ax down from its place on the wall, my father mentioned casually to my aunt that while my mother’s throwing arm was still strong, her aim was not what it had been in their youth. Aunt Gertrude remembered suddenly that she had business elsewhere. She pried Fricka out of my room (probably with a winch) and they flounced off.

But I’ve wandered down a side tunnel, as the saying goes. The last I wrote, we were heading in our ship toward certain death and now we’re home safe and sound, and I really have no idea how or why.

No heroic battles in the dragon-snake cave. Just a lot of talk in a language none of us understood. Our ship broke up. We had to swim to the surface. The dragon-snakes found us, and instead of murdering us, they gave us presents and sent us into a cave. Then Haplo stayed up all night talking to them. When he finally came back, he said he was tired and didn’t want to talk and he’d explain everything some other time. But he assured us that we were safe and told us we could sleep securely and that in the morning we’d be going home!

We were astounded and discussed it quietly (Alake made us whisper so as not to disturb Haplo). We couldn’t unravel the tangle, however, and finally, being exhausted ourselves, we fell asleep.

The next morning, more food appeared, along with more presents. And, peeping out of the cave, I saw to my astonishment that our submersible, good as new, was moored on the shore. There was no sign of the dragon-snakes.

“The dragons fixed your ship,” said Haplo, between mouthfuls of food. “We’ll use it to sail back home.”

He was eating something Alake had cooked and she was sitting beside him, watching him with adoring eyes.

“They did it for you,” she said softly. “You saved us, as you promised. And now you’re taking us home. You will be a hero to our people. Whatever you want will be yours, Whatever you ask for will be granted.”

She was hoping, of course, that he’d ask to marry the chieftain’s daughter—meaning her.

Haplo shrugged and said he hadn’t done all that much. But I could tell he was pleased with himself. I noted that the blue marks had started coming back on his skin. Also that he took extreme care to avoid touching or even looking at a large jug full of water I’d brought in to wash the sleep out of my eyes. I whispered to Devon, “I wonder where the bitter pill is in all this candy.”[30]

“Only think, Grundle,” he whispered back, sighing rapturously, “in a few days I’ll be with Sabia!”

He hadn’t heard a word I’d said! And I’ll wager he hadn’t heard Haplo either, for that matter. Which just goes to show you how love—at least among humans and elves—can addle the brain. Thank the One we dwarves are different! I love Hartmut down to the last strand of hair in his beard, but I’d be ashamed to let my feelings reduce my mental capacities to the consistency of gruel. But, there, I shouldn’t talk that way. Now that—

No, I’m getting ahead of myself.

“All right, but remember, no one ever gets something for nothing,” I said, but I said it into my whiskers. I was afraid that if Alake heard me, she’d scratch my eyes out.

As it was, I think Haplo did hear me. He has sharp ears, that one. I was glad. Let him know that one of us isn’t planning to swallow this without chewing on it first. He glanced at me and kind of half-smiled in that dark way of his that gives me the shivers.

When he finished eating, he said we were free to leave. We could take all the food and presents with us. At this, I saw even Alake was offended.

“No amount of gold or precious jewels can bring back the people those monsters murdered, or make up for what we have suffered,” she said, casting a disdainful glance at the mounds of riches and wealth.

“I would sooner toss such blood money in the Goodsea, except it might poison the fish,” Devon said angrily.

“Suit yourselves.” Haplo shrugged again. “But you might need it, when you sail to your new homeland.”

We looked at each other. We’d been so frightened and worried about the dragon-snakes, we’d completely forgotten about another danger that loomed over our people—the loss of the seasun.

“Will the dragon-snakes let us build more sun-chasers?” I asked dubiously.

“Better than that. They’ve offered to use their magic to fix the ones they destroyed. And they’ve given me information about this new homeland, important information.”

We badgered him with questions, but Haplo refused to answer, saying that it would not be proper to tell us before discussing a matter of this importance with our parents. We were forced to admit he was right.

Alake looked at the gold, said it was a shame it should go to waste. Devon remarked that several bolts of the silken fabric were Sabia’s favorite colors. I’d already pocketed some of the jewels (as I wrote earlier, we dwarves are a practical lot), but I gladly took a few more, just so the others wouldn’t think I was being snooty.

We loaded ourselves, the presents, and the food on board the submersible. I checked the ship over thoroughly. Admittedly, the dragon-snakes were strong on magic, but I mistrusted that they knew anything about shipbuilding. However, the snakes appeared to have put it back together exactly the way it was before they broke it and I decided it was safe to sink in.

We each took up residence in our old rooms. Everything was as it had been when we left. I even found this—my journal, exactly where I left it. No water damage. Not a drop of ink smeared. Astounding! It made me kind of queasy. I wondered, more than once on that journey, if it had all really happened or if it had only been a strange and terrible dream.

The ship launched itself, under the same magical power as before, and we were headed back home.

I’m certain the journey took the same amount of time going as coming, but it seemed far longer to us. We laughed and talked excitedly about the first things we’d do when we reached our homelands and how we’d probably be considered heroes and what everyone would make of Haplo.

We spent a lot of time talking about Haplo. At least Alake and I did. She came into my cabin quite late the first night of our trip back home. It was that quiet period just before you go to bed when the aching for home comes over you so badly sometimes that it makes you think you’ll die of it. I was feeling the same way myself, and I must admit that maybe a tear or two had trickled into my whiskers when I heard Alake’s gentle tap on my door.

“It’s me, Grundle. Can I talk to you? Or are you sleeping?”

“If I was, I’m not now,” I told her grumpily, to hide the fact that I’d been crying. For all I knew, she’d dose me with herbs or something.

I opened the door. Alake came in and sat on the bed. I took one look at her—she was shy and proud and fluttery and happy—and I knew what this conversation was going to be about.

She sat on the bed, twisting the rings on her fingers. (I saw that she’d forgotten to take off her funeral jewelry. We dwarves aren’t particularly superstitious, but if there was ever a bad omen, that was it. I meant to tell her, but just as I was about to say something she started to talk, and I never had the chance.) “Grundle,” she said, making up her mind to astonish me. “I’m in love.”

I decided to amuse myself a little. It’s fun to tease Alake, because she takes everything so seriously.

“I’m sure I wish you two all the best,” I said slowly, stroking my whiskers, “but how do you think Sabia will take it?”

“Sabia?” Alake was startled. “Why, I suppose she’ll be happy for me. Why shouldn’t she?”

“She’s unselfish. We all know that. And she loves you dearly, Alake, but she’s pretty fond of Devon, too, and I don’t think—”

“Devon!” Alake could barely speak for shock. “Do you . . . Did you think I meant I was in love with Devon?”

“Who else?” I asked as innocently as possible.

“Devon’s very nice,” Alake was going on, “and he’s been very kind and helpful. And I will always think of him with the highest regard, but I could never fall in love with him. After all, he’s little more than a boy.” A boy who’s about one hundred times older than you, I could have said, but I kept my mouth shut. Humans tend to be touchy about their age.

“No,” Alake continued softly, her eyes glowing like candlelight at dusk, “I’m in love with a man. Grundle . . .” She gulped, swallowed, then said, in a rush, “It’s Haplo!”

Of course, she expected me to fly backward around the room in shock and was considerably put out when I didn’t.

“Humpf,” was all I said.

“You’re not surprised?”

“Surprised! Try painting ‘I love you’ in white paint across your forehead next time,” I suggested.

“Oh, dear. Has it been that obvious? Do you ... do you think he knows? It would be dreadful if he did.”

Alake glanced at me sidelong, pretending to be afraid, but I could tell that deep down she was hoping I’d say, “Yes, of course, he knows.” Which I could have said truthfully, because the man would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb and a fool on top of it not to have known. I could have said this and it would have made Alake happy, but, of course, I didn’t. It was all wrong and I knew it and I knew Alake would get hurt and the whole thing made me cross.

“He’s old enough to be your father,” I pointed out.

“He is not! And what if he is?” Alake argued, with the sort of logic one comes to expect from humans. “I’ve never met another man as noble and brave and strong and handsome. He stood there alone, Grundle. In front of those horrible creatures, naked, no weapons, not even his magic.

“You see, I know about the water and how it affects his magic, so don’t say anything to me about that!” she added defiantly. “We humans can’t do rune-magic ourselves, but our legends tell about people who could once, long ago. Haplo obviously wants to hide his power, and so I’ve said nothing.

“He was prepared to die for us, Grundle.”

(No use my saying a word. She wouldn’t have heard me.)

“How could I not love him? And then, to see those dreadful dragon-snakes bow down to him! He was magnificent! And now they’re sending us home, giving us gifts, promising us a new homeland! And all because of Haplo.”

“That may be,” I said, feeling crosser than ever because I was forced to admit that what she said was true, “but what is he getting out of this? Have you asked yourself that? What does he mean, coming around asking me how many men my father has in his army and asking Devon if he thinks the elves would fight if they had to and whether or not they still remembered how to make magical weapons and wanting to know if your Coven could persuade the dolphins and whales to be on our side if it came to war?”

It occurs to me that I have forgotten to mention that Haplo had been asking those very questions of us that day.

“Grundle, you are mean-spirited and ungrateful!” Alake cried, and burst into tears.

I hadn’t meant to make her cry. I felt about as low as a dragon-snake’s belly. Going over to her, I patted her hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said awkwardly.

“I asked him why he wanted to know such things,” Alake continued, between sobs, “and he said that we should always be prepared for the worst and though this new homeland might look like a perfect place, it might be dangerous . . .” She stopped to wipe her nose.

I said I understood, which I did. What Haplo said made sense. What he said always made sense. And that made this nagging, rotten feeling of distrust and suspicion inside me all the harder to bear. I apologized again, and teased Alake until she cheered up and dried her eyes.

But dwarves are always truthful, and I couldn’t help but tell her, “The only reason I said those things is that . . . well . . . it’s just that . . . Haplo doesn’t love you, Alake.”

I cringed, waiting for another storm. To my surprise, however, Alake was quite calm. She even smiled, sadly, but it was a smile.

“Oh, I know that, Grundle. How could I expect him to love me? He must have thousands of women longing for him.”

I thought I should encourage this line of thinking.

“Yes, and maybe he’s got a wife somewhere—”

“He doesn’t,” Alake said quickly, too quickly. She looked down at her hands.

“I asked him. He said he’d never found the right one, yet. I’d love to be the right one for him, Grundle. But I know I’m not worthy now. Perhaps someday I will be, if I keep trying.”

She looked up at me, her eyes shining with her tears, and she was so lovely and seemed older and more mature than I’d ever known her and she glowed with a kind of inner light.

I said, then and there, that if love could do that for her then it must not be bad, no matter what happened. Besides, maybe when we reach home, Haplo will leave, go back to wherever it is he came from. After all, what could he possibly want with us? But I kept this thought to myself.

We hugged each other and had a good cry and I didn’t say anything else awful about Haplo. Devon heard us and came in and Alake broke down and told him and he said he thought love was the most wonderful, beautiful thing in the whole world and we talked about Sabia and then they both made me confess that I wasn’t a stranger to love myself and I broke down and told them about Hartmut and we all laughed and all cried and couldn’t wait to get home. Which made what happened when we got there all the more terrible. I’ve been putting off writing this. I wasn’t certain I could do it, for one thing. It makes me so terribly sad. But I’ve told everything and I can’t very well go on with this story and leave out the most important part. Being saved from the dragons and returning safely to our homelands would constitute a happy ending in most tavern tales I’ve heard. But the ending wasn’t happy. And I have a feeling it isn’t the end, yet, either. The moment our submersible left the dragon-snakes’ lair, we were besieged by—what else—a bunch of pesky dolphins. They wanted to know everything, all about what had happened, how we’d escaped. We’d barely told them before they swam off, eager to be the first to spread the news. There never was a more gossip-loving fish.

At least our parents would hear the good news and have time to recover from their initial shock at learning we were still alive and well. We started arguing among ourselves, trying to decide which of us got to go home first, but that was soon settled. The dolphins returned with a message saying that we were to meet our parents together on Elmas, the elven seamoon. This suited us fine. To be honest, we were a bit nervous, now, as to our parents’ reaction. We knew they’d be happy to have us back again, but after the kisses and tears we figured we could expect a severe scolding, if not worse. We had, after all, disobeyed their orders and run off without thinking of the suffering and misery we’d cause.

We even went so far as to mention this to Haplo, hinting that he would do us another great service if he would stay with us and smooth things over with our mothers and fathers.

He only grinned and said he’d protected us from the dragon-snakes, but when it came to parental wrath, we were on our own.

But we weren’t thinking about stern lectures and punishment when the submersible landed and the hatch opened and we saw our parents standing there, waiting for us. My father took me in his arms and held me close and I saw, for the first time in my life, tears in his eyes. I would have listened to the sternest lecture, then and there, and loved every word.

We introduced them to Haplo. (The dolphins had, of course, already told our parents how he had saved us.) Our parents were grateful, but it was obvious that all of them were a little overawed by the man and his blue-marked skin and his air of quiet self-assurance. They managed to get out only a few, broken words of gratitude, which he accepted with a smile and a shrug, saying that we’d rescued him from the sea and that he’d been happy to return the favor. He said nothing more, and our parents were glad to turn back to us. For a while, it was all embraces and words of affection. Devon’s parents were there, waiting for their son. They were as glad to have him back as any of the other parents, but I saw, when I was in shape to see anything, that they still seemed sad, when they should have been overjoyed. The elven king was there, too, to welcome Devon, but Sabia wasn’t.

Then I noticed, for the first time, that her father was dressed in white—the elven color of mourning. I saw all the elves around us—and there were many, waiting to welcome us—were clad in white, something that happened only when one of the royal family has died.

A chill constricted my heart. I looked at my father with what must have been a wild and terror-stricken expression, because he only shook his head and put his finger to my lips, to silence my questions.

Alake had been asking for Sabia. Her eyes met mine, and they were wide with fear. We both looked at Devon. Blind with joy, his vision clouded by rainbows, he hadn’t seen a thing. He broke free of his parents’ embrace (was it my imagination or were they trying to hold him back?) and went to the elven king.

“Where is Sabia, Sire?” Devon asked. “Is she mad at me for striking her? I’ll make it up to her, I promise! Tell her to come out ...” The One lifted the clouds from his eyes. He saw the white clothing, saw the elven king’s face scarred and ravaged by grief, saw the petals of white flowers that had been scattered over the Goodsea.

“Sabia!” Devon shouted, and he started to run toward the coral castle that stood shimmering behind us.

Eliason caught hold of him.

Devon struggled violently, then he collapsed in the man’s arms. “No!” he cried, sobbing. “No! I never meant ... I wanted to save her ...”

“I know, my son, I know,” Eliason said, stroking Devon’s hair, soothing him as he might have soothed a child of his own. “It wasn’t your fault. Your intentions were the best, the noblest. Sabia”—he could not speak her name without a catch in his throat, but he mastered himself—“Sabia is with the One. She is at peace. We must take comfort in that. And now, I think it is time for the families to be alone together.”

Eliason took charge of Haplo with the gracious dignity and politeness that is characteristic of the elves, no matter what personal sorrows afflict them. Unhappy king. How he must have longed to be alone with his child!

Once we were inside, in a new part of the castle that had grown during our absence, my mother explained to me what had happened.

“The moment she woke up, Sabia knew what Devon had done. She knew he had sacrificed his own life for her and that his death would be a terrible one. From then on,” my mother said, wiping her eyes on the hem of her sleeve, “the poor girl lost all interest in living. She refused to eat, refused to leave her bed. She drank water only when her father sat beside her and held the glass to her lips. She wouldn’t talk to anyone, but lay for hours, staring out her window. When she slept at all, her sleep was broken by horrible dreams. They said her cries could be heard throughout the castle.

“And then one day, she seemed to be better. She got up out of bed, dressed herself in the dress she’d been wearing when you three were last together, and went about the castle singing. Her songs were sad and strange and no one liked to hear them, but they hoped this meant she was well again. Alas, it meant quite the opposite.

“That night, she asked her duenna to fetch her something to eat. The woman, thrilled that Sabia was hungry, hurried off, unsuspecting. When she returned, Sabia was gone. Frightened, the duenna woke the king. They searched.” My mother shook her head, unable to continue for her tears. Finally, she had recourse to the sleeve again, and went on.

“They found her body on the terrace where we met that day, the terrace where you overheard us talking. She’d thrown herself out a window. She was lying on almost the very same place where the elf messenger died.” I’m going to have to end this for now. I can’t go on without crying. The One guards your sleep now, Sabia. Your terrible dreams are at an end.