Serpent Mage

24

Events have hurtled down on us like boulders from the mountaintop. Some seemed likely to flatten us, but we managed to duck and so survived.[43] We spent several more days on Phondra, for we had a great deal of planning to do, as you may well imagine. Many factors had to be determined: how many people were to be in each sun-chaser, what we could and could not take with us, how much food and water would be necessary for the duration of the journey, and a lot of other details that I won’t bother to put down. It was bad enough having to listen and worry about them all.

Alake and I have finally been allowed to sit in on the royal meetings. It was an extremely proud moment for us.

During the first meeting, Alake and I concentrated on being serious, solemn, and earnest. We paid strict attention to every word and we were ready with our opinions, despite the fact that no one ever asked us for them. But by the next afternoon, when my father and Dumaka were busy drawing—for the sixth time—a diagram of one of the sun-chasers in the dirt to determine how many water barrels could be safely stowed in the hold, Alake and I began to discover that being a ruler was, as she put it, a royal pain. Here we were, stuck inside the longhouse, which was hot and stuffy, forced to listen to Eliason drone on about the merits of fish oil and why casks of it were considered an absolute necessity by the elves. Outdoors (we could see plainly through the slats in the log walls) the most interesting things were going on.

Alake’s quick eye caught sight of Haplo, pacing restlessly about the camp. Devon walked with him. Our elf friend had almost completely recovered from his accident. The scars on his neck were healing. Other than an extremely raspy voice, he was back to being his old self. (Well, almost. I guess he will never be the merry, carefree Devon we once knew, but then I suppose none of us will ever be the same again.)

Devon spent most of his time with Haplo. They never seemed to say much to each other, but each seemed glad of the other’s company. At least, I assume Haplo liked having the elf around. It’s hard to tell what Haplo’s thinking. For example, he’s been in an extremely dark humor these past few days, which is odd, considering everything worked out the way he wanted. But then, I got the distinct feeling he was impatient, in a hurry to be gone, and was fed up with the delay.

I was watching the two of them walk past, thinking regretfully that if Alake and I had been spying, as usual, we would have left long before this (or fallen asleep!), when I saw Haplo suddenly stop in midstride, look in our direction. His face was grim. Turning, nearly bowling over the startled elf, he headed for the longhouse.

I perked up, having the feeling something was about to happen. Alake had seen him coming, too, and was smoothing her hair and adjusting her ear-jangles. She sat up straight and pretended to look deeply interested in the subject of fish oil, when only a moment before she’d been rolling her eyes and trying not to yawn. It was enough to make a cat laugh. As it was, I snorted and caught a stern, reproving look from my mother.

The doorkeeper entered, apologized for interrupting, and announced that Haplo had something to say. Of course, he was graciously received. (He’d been invited to attend these meetings, but he had better sense.) He began by saying he hoped we were making progress, reminding us again that we didn’t have much time. I thought his look, as he said this, was dark.

“What are you discussing?” he asked, his gaze going to the diagram on the floor.

None of the others seemed inclined to answer, so I told him. “Fish oil.”

“Fish oil,” Haplo repeated. “Every day, the Sartan grow stronger, your sun drifts farther, and you sit here yammering about fish oil.” Our parents looked ashamed. My father ducked his head, chewed on his beard. My mother sighed loudly. Eliason, his pale skin flushed, started to say something, floundered, and fell silent.

“It is hard to leave our homelands,” said Dumaka finally, staring down at the diagram of the boat.

At first, I couldn’t figure out what that had to do with fish oil, but then it occurred to me that all of the arguing and discussion over petty details were just our parents’ way of stalling, of refusing to face the inevitable. They knew they had to leave, but they didn’t want to. I felt suddenly like bursting into tears.

“I think we were hoping for a miracle,” said Delu.

“The only miracle you’re going to get is the one you make yourselves,” Haplo answered irritably. “Now, look, here is what you take and how you take it.” He told them. Squatting down on the floor near the diagram, he explained everything. He told us what to take, how to pack it, what each man, woman, and child could carry, how much room to allot, what we’d need when we reached Surunan, what we could leave behind because we could make it when we got there. He told what we’d need in case of war.

We listened, dazed. Our parents presented feeble arguments.

“But what about—”

“Not necessary.”

“But we should take—”

“No, you should not.”

In less than an hour, everything was settled.

“Be ready to sail for your homes tomorrow. Once there, send out the word for your people to start gathering at the appointed locations.” Haplo stood up, brushed the dirt off his hands. “The dwarves will sail the sun-chasers to Phondra and Elmas. Allow a full cycle at each city or village for loading everyone on board.

“The fleet will reassemble at Gargan in”—Haplo made a swift calculation in his head—“fourteen cycles’ time. We should travel together; there’s safety in numbers. Any who lag behind”—a stern glance at the elves—“will be left behind. Understood.”

“Understood,” said Eliason, with a faint smile.

“Good. I’ll leave you all to work out the final details. Which reminds me, I’m in need of a translator. I want to ask the dolphins some questions concerning Surunan. I was wondering if I could borrow Grundle?”

“Take her,” my father said, with what sounded suspiciously like relief. I was on my feet, glad to escape, and heading for the door when I heard a smothered sound, caught sight of Alake’s pleading eyes. She’d give every ear-jangle she owned and probably her ears along with them to go with Haplo. I tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. “Alake speaks dolphin a lot better than I do. In fact, I don’t speak it at all. I think she should come with us.” He gave me an exasperated look, but I ignored him. After all, Alake and I were friends. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever.

“Besides,” I said, out of the corner of my mouth, “she’ll only follow us.” Which was true enough and got me off the hook.

So he said, not very graciously, that he’d be pleased if Alake would come, too.

“And Devon?” I asked, seeing the elf hanging about, lost and forlorn.

“Why not?” I thought I heard him mutter. “Invite the whole damn village. Have a parade.”

I waved to Devon, whose face brightened. He joined us eagerly. “Where are we going?”

“Haplo wants to talk to the dolphins. We’re going along to translate. By the way,” I added, something just occurring to me, “the dolphins speak our languages, you know. And so do you. Why don’t you talk to them yourself?”

“I tried. They won’t talk to me.”

“Really?” Devon stared at him, amazed. “I never heard of such a thing.” I had to admit I was pretty surprised, myself. Those gossipy fish will talk to anyone. Usually you can’t get them to shut up.

“I’ll speak with them,” offered Alake. “Perhaps it’s just because they’ve never seen anyone quite like you.”

Haplo grunted, said nothing more. He was, as I have stated, in a dark and morose mood. Alake looked at me, worried, raised her eyebrows. I shrugged my shoulders, glanced at Devon, who shook his head. None of us had a clue what was bothering the man.

We reached the seashore. The dolphins were hanging about, as usual, hoping for someone to come along and toss them a juicy tidbit of news or cod or listen to whatever it was they had to say. But, when they saw Haplo coming, they all flipped their tails, turned, and swam out to sea.

“Wait!” Alake cried, standing on the shore and stomping her foot. “Come back here.”

“There, you see.” Haplo waved his hand impatiently.

“What do you expect? They’re only fish,” I said.

He stood glaring at them in frustration and at us in resentment. It occurred to me that he didn’t really want us there, probably didn’t want us to hear whatever it was he thought he might hear, but he didn’t have much choice. I went down to the water’s edge, where Alake was talking with one of the dolphins who had slowly and reluctantly swum back. Haplo stayed behind, keeping well away from the water.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

Alake squeaked and whistled. I wondered if she knew how truly ridiculous she sounded. You’d never catch me lowering myself to fish-talk. She turned around, “Haplo’s right. They’re refusing to talk to him. They say he’s in league with the dragon-snakes, and they hate and fear the dragon-snakes.”

“Listen, fish,” I said to the dolphin, “we’re not crazy about the dragon-snakes ourselves, but Haplo has some sort of hold on them. He got them to let us go and made them repair the sun-chasers.”

The dolphin shook its head violently, splattering water all over both of us. It began to squeak shrilly, alarmingly, flapping its flippers in the water.

“What’s the matter with it?” Devon came over to join us.

“That’s nonsense!” Alake cried angrily. “I don’t believe you. I won’t stay here and listen to such talk.” She turned her back on the frantic dolphin and walked up the beach to where Haplo was standing.

“It’s useless,” she said. “They’re behaving like spoiled children. Let’s go.”

“I need to talk to them,” Haplo said.

“What did the thing say to her?” I asked Devon softly. He glanced over at the two of them, motioned me closer.

“It said that the dragon-snakes are evil, more evil than we can imagine. And that Haplo’s just as evil as they are. He has a private hatred for these Sartan. Once, long ago, his people fought the Sartan and lost. Now, he wants revenge. He’s using us to get it. When we’ve destroyed the Sartan for him, he’ll turn us over to the dragon-snakes.”

I stared at him. I couldn’t believe it, and yet, in a way, I could. I felt sick inside and afraid. Judging by his looks, Devon wasn’t faring much better. Dolphins often exaggerate the truth, or sometimes come up with only part of the truth, but it is, generally, the truth. I’ve never known one to lie. We both eyed Haplo, who was trying to persuade Alake to return and talk to the dolphins again.

“What do you think?” I asked Devon.

The elf took his time answering. “I think the dolphins are wrong. I trust him. He saved my life, Grundle. Saved my life by giving me some of his own.”

“Huh?”

That made no sense at all. I was about to say as much to Devon, when he shushed me. Alake was returning to the water’s edge, followed by Haplo. Seeing him this near the sea, in danger of being splashed, I concluded the matter must be serious.

Alake summoned the dolphin before her with her best imperious air, bracelets clashing, arm stabbing downward. Her eyes flashed, her voice was stern. Even I was impressed. The dolphin swam to her meekly.

“Listen to me,” Alake said, “you will answer the questions this man puts to you to the best of your ability or from this moment on, you dolphins will be shunned by every human, elf, and dwarf.”

“Exceeding our authority a bit, aren’t we?” I poked her in the ribs.

“Shut up.” Alake pinched me. “And agree to go along.” We did. Both Devon and I stoutly insisted that no elf or dwarf would ever talk to a dolphin again. At this dire threat, the dolphins gasped and floundered and flopped around in the water, sounding agonized and swearing that they were only interested in our welfare. (Overdoing it, if you ask me.) Finally—after pathetic bleatings, which we ignored—one of the fish agreed to talk to Haplo. And then, after all this, what do you suppose was Haplo’s question? Did he ask about Sartan defenses? About how many men manned the battlements? About how good they were at ax-heaving? No.

Alake, having cowed the dolphins, looked at him expectantly. Haplo spoke the fish’s language fluently.

“What he’s saying?” I asked Devon.

Devon looked dazed. “He’s asking them how the Sartan are dressed!” Well, of course, Haplo could have asked nothing that would have caught the dolphins’ fancy more (which, it occurs to me, may have been the reason he asked it). Dolphins have never understood our strange propensity for draping the body in cloth, just as they’ve never understood our other odd habits, such as living on dry land and expending all that energy walking when we might be swimming.

But, for some reason, they find the wearing of clothing particularly hilarious and, as such, are continually fascinated by it. Let an elf matron attend a ball in a puffed-sleeve gown when long tight sleeves are in fashion and every dolphin in the Goodsea will have heard about it by morning. As it was, we were treated to a graphic account (Alake translating, for my benefit) of what the Sartan were wearing, which—all in all—I thought sounded pretty boring.

“The dolphins say that the Sartan all dress alike. The males wear robes that fall in long, loose folds from the shoulders and the females wear a similar design, except that theirs are cinched around the waist. The robes are plain-colored, either white or gray. Most have simple designs along the bottom, and some are trimmed in gold. The dolphins suspect that the gold denotes some type of official ranking. They don’t know what.” Devon and I sat down in the sand, both of us glum and uncommunicative. I wondered if he was thinking about what I was thinking about. I had my answer when I saw him frown and heard him repeat, “He saved my life.”

“The dolphins don’t think much of the Sartan,” Alake was saying to me, in low tones. “Apparently, the Sartan ask the dolphins continually for information, but when the dolphins ask the Sartan questions, the Sartan refuse to answer.” Haplo nodded; this information obviously didn’t surprise him much. In fact, I could see he wasn’t surprised by anything he heard, as if he knew it all beforehand. I wondered why he asked, why he bothered. He had joined us, sitting in the sand, his arms propped up on his bent knees, hands clasped. He looked relaxed, prepared to sit here for several signe.

“Is there . . . anything else you want to know?” Alake glanced at him then over at us to see if we knew what was going on.

We weren’t any help. Devon was busy digging holes in the sand, watching them fill with water and tiny sea creatures. I felt angry and unhappy and began tossing rocks at the dolphin, just to see how close I could come to hitting it.

The stupid fish, tickled by the dress question, I suppose, swam out of my range, started to giggle and cavort.

“What’s so funny?” Haplo asked. He seemed relaxed, but from where I was seated, I could see a glint in his eye, a bright flash like sun off hard, cold steel.

Of course, the dolphin was eager to tell.

“What?” I asked.

Alake shrugged. “Only that there is one Sartan who dresses much differently from the others. He looks different from the others.”

“Different? How?”

Casual conversation, except I saw that Haplo’s hands had tightened. The dolphins were eager to describe it. Several more swam up at this point, all talking at once. Haplo listened intently. It took Alake some moments to sort out who was squeaking what.

“The man wears a coat and knee breeches, like a dwarf, only he’s not a dwarf. He’s much taller. He has no hair on the top of his head. His clothes are shabby and worn out, and the dolphins say he seems as worn out as his clothes.”

I watched Haplo out of the corner of my eye; a shiver crept over me. His expression had changed. He was smiling, but his smile was unpleasant, made me want to look away. The fingers of his hands were clasped so tightly together that the knuckles, beneath their blue marks, had all turned white. This was what he’d wanted to hear. But, why? Who was this man?

“The dolphins don’t think that this man is a Sartan.” Alake continued talking in some perplexity, expecting every moment for Haplo to end what seemed a boring conversation. He listened with quiet interest, however, saying nothing, encouraging the dolphins silently to continue.

“He doesn’t go around with the Sartan. The dolphins see him walking on the pier alone a lot. They say he looks much nicer than the Sartan, whose faces seem to have stayed frozen when the rest of them thawed out. The dolphins would like to talk to him, but he has a dog with him that barks at them when they come too close—”

“Dog!”

Haplo’s whole body flinched, as if someone’d hit him. And I’ll never forget, if I live to be four hundred, the tone of his voice. It made my hair stand on end. Alake was staring at him in astonishment. The dolphins, sensing a choice morsel of gossip, swam as close as they possibly could without actually beaching themselves.

“Dog . . .” Devon’s head jerked up. I don’t think he’d been paying much attention, up to this point. “What about a dog?” he whispered to me. I shook my side whiskers at him, to keep him quiet. I didn’t want to miss whatever Haplo was going to do or say next. He didn’t say or do anything, however. Just sat there.

For some reason, I recalled a recent evening spent at our local tavern, enjoying the usual brawl. One of my uncles was hit over the head with a chair. He sat on the floor for quite a while, and the expression on his face was identical to the expression on Haplo’s.

First my uncle looked dazed, stunned. Pain brought him to his senses; his face kind of twisted, and he moaned a little. But by then, too, he realized what had happened to him, and he was so angry he forgot that he hurt. Haplo didn’t moan. He didn’t make any sound that I heard. But I saw his face twist, then darken in anger. He jumped to his feet and, without a word, stalked off back toward camp.

Alake cried out, and would have run after him, if I hadn’t been holding onto the hem of her dress. As I told you, the Phondrans don’t believe in buttons or anything of that type. They wrap the cloth around themselves. While ordinarily the folds are quite secure, one good tug in a strategic location can pretty well undo the whole business.

Alake gasped, grappled with folds of falling fabric, and by the time she was properly redraped, Haplo was out of sight.

“Grundle!” She pounced on me. “What did you do that for?”

“I saw his face,” I answered. “Obviously, you didn’t. Believe me, he wanted to be alone.”

I thought she was going to fly off after him and I was on my feet, prepared to stop her, when she sighed, suddenly, and shook her head.

“I saw his face, too,” was all she said.

The dolphins were squeaking in excitement, begging to know the gory details.

“Go on! Get out of here!” I said, and began chucking rocks in earnest. They swam off, with hurt and offended squeaks. But I noticed that they only swam out of range of my throwing arm and that they kept their heads out of the water, mouths open, beady little eyes watching eagerly.

“Stupid fish!” snapped Alake, tossing her head, making her ear-jangles clash like bells. “Vicious gossips. I don’t believe anything they say.” She kept glancing at us uneasily, wondering if we’d overheard what the dolphins said about Haplo and the dragon-snakes. I tried to look innocent, but I must not have succeeded.

“Oh, Grundle! Surely you don’t think for a moment what they said was true! That Haplo’s using us! Devon”—Alake turned to the elf for support—“tell Grundle that she’s wrong. Haplo wouldn’t do ... what they said. He just wouldn’t! He saved your life, Devon.”

But Devon wasn’t listening. “Dog,” he repeated thoughtfully. “He said something to me about a dog. I wish I ... I just can’t remember . . .”

“You have to admit, Alake,” I said reluctantly, “that we don’t know anything about him. Where he comes from, even what he is. Now this man with no hair on his head and the shabby clothes. Haplo obviously knew the man was with the Sartan; he wasn’t the least surprised to hear about him. He was surprised about the dog, though, and from the look of him, the surprise wasn’t pleasant. Who is this strange man? What does he have to do with Haplo? And what’s the big deal about a dog?” I looked hard at Devon as I spoke. The elf was no help. He only shrugged. “I’m sorry, Grundle. I wasn’t feeling very good at the time . . .”

“I know all about Haplo I need to know,” said Alake angrily, twitching the folds of her dress back into place. “He saved our lives, saved you twice, Devon!”

“Yes,” said Devon, not looking at Alake, “and how nicely it all worked out for him.”

“It did, didn’t it?” I said, thinking back. “He was the hero, the savior. No one’s ever questioned a thing he says. I think we should tell our parents—” Alake stomped her foot. Bracelets and ear-jangles rang wildly. I’d never seen her so angry. “You do, Grundle Heavybeard, and I’ll never speak to you again! I swear it by the One!”

“There’s a way we can find out for certain,” Devon said soothingly, to calm her down. He stood up, brushed the sand off his hands.

“What’s that?” Alake demanded, sullen, suspicious.

“Spy—”

“No! I forbid it! I won’t have you spying on him—”

“Not on him,” said Devon. “On the dragon-snakes.” Now I felt as if I’d been hit over the head with a chair. The very idea took my breath away.

“I agree with you, Alake,” Devon argued persuasively, “I want to believe in Haplo. But we can’t get around the fact that dolphins generally know what’s going on—”

“ ‘Generally’!” Alake repeated bitterly.

“Yes, that’s what I mean. What if they’ve got part of it wrong and part of it right? What if, for example, the dragon-snakes are using Haplo? What if he’s in just as much danger as we are? I think, before we tell our parents or anybody, we should find out the truth.”

“The elf’s got a point,” I admitted. “At least for now, the dragon-snakes seem to be on our side. And snakes or no snakes, we can’t stay on the seamoons. We’ve got to reach Surunan. And if we bring this up . . .” I didn’t need to finish my sentence. We could picture, all too well, how this information would start the squabbling and the distrust and the suspicion all over again.

“Very well,” said Alake.

The thought of Haplo being in danger had won her over, of course. I regarded Devon with newfound admiration. Eliason had been right. Elves did make good diplomats.

“We’ll do it,” Alake said. “But when? And how?” Trust a human. Always had to have a plan.

“We’ll have to wait and watch for a time,” Devon said. “There’s bound to be opportunity on the trip.”

A sudden, horrible thought struck me. “What if the dolphins tell our parents what they told us?”

“We’ll have to watch them, see that they don’t talk to our parents or anyone else for that matter,” said Alake, after a moment’s pondering, during which none of us came up with anything more helpful. “With any luck, our people will be too busy to take time out to gossip.”

A forlorn hope. I didn’t mention that it was not only probable but logical that our parents would ask the dolphins for information before we set out on the journey. I was surprised they hadn’t thought to do it yet, but I guess they had more important things on their minds—like fish oil. We all agreed to keep close watch, be ready with arguments in case we failed. Alake was to warn Haplo, discreetly, without giving anything away, that it might be best if no one spoke to dolphins for a while.

After that, we parted, to make preparations for the great journey and to begin keeping an eye on our parents.

It’s a good thing they have us around. I’ve got to go. More later.[44]