Serpent Mage

25

His dog was with Alfred.

There was no doubt in Haplo’s mind that the dog the dolphins mentioned was his dog and it was with Alfred. The thought irritated Haplo, bothered him more than he cared to admit, rankled like a poisoned barb in his flesh. He found himself thinking about the dog when he should have been concentrating on more important matters—such as the journey ahead, the war against the Sartan.

“It’s only a damn dog,” he told himself.

Elves and dwarves were boarding their submersibles, preparing to travel back to their homelands and ready their people for the great Sun Chase. Haplo stayed with them until the last possible moment, reassuring the dwarves, prodding the elves to action, solving problems both real and imaginary. They hadn’t all agreed to go to war, not yet. But he was leading them toward it, gently, without their being aware of his intent. And Haplo had little doubt that the Sartan would finish whatever it was he started.

The humans, with typical human impetuosity, wanted to sail the submersibles to Surunan directly, land their people on the shore, and then open up negotiations.

“We will be arguing from a position of strength,” stated Dumaka. “The Sartan will see our numbers, see that we have already established a foothold. They will see, too, that we arrive in peace with peaceful intent. They will look out over the walls of their city and see women and children ...”

“They’ll look out over their walls and see an army,” Yngvar growled. “They’ll grab their axes first and think about talking later.”

“I agree with Yngvar,” said Eliason. “We don’t want to intimidate these Sartan. I suggest that we halt the fleet near Surunan, close enough for the Sartan to see our ships and be impressed by our numbers, but far enough away that they do not feel threatened. . . .”

“And what’s wrong with a little threatening?” Dumaka argued. “I suppose you elves plan to go groveling and crawling in on your bellies, prepared to wash their feet.”

“Certainly not. We elves know how to behave politely, present our proposals in a civilized manner without loss of dignity.”

“Now you’re saying we humans are not civilized!” Dumaka flared.

“If the boot fits . . .” Yngvar began, at which point Haplo intervened.

“I think it would be best to go with Eliason’s plan. What if, as Yngvar suggests, the Sartan decided to attack? You’d have your families strung out on the beaches, defenseless. Far better to keep on board the ships. There’s a place to moor the submersibles not far from Draknor, where the dragon-snakes live.

“Don’t worry,” Haplo added hastily, noting the scowls that met this proposal, “you won’t be that close to the snakes. You can take advantage of their air bubble to bring your ships to the surface. And by the time you reach this point, you’ll be glad to breathe fresh air again. Once you’re here, you ask the Sartan for a meeting, and then open negotiations.” His plan was accepted. Haplo smiled quietly. He could almost certainly count on the mensch to talk themselves into trouble.

Which brought him to his next topic of conversation: weapons. In particular, magical elven weapons.

No weapon made by mensch, magic or otherwise, could stand up against the power of the Sartan rune-magic. But Haplo had devised a plan that would make everyone equal, a plan that would, in fact, give the mensch the edge. He hadn’t told anyone about his plan yet, not the mensch, not even his allies, the dragon-snakes. Too much was at stake: victory over the ancient enemy, Samah helpless and at the Patryn’s mercy. Haplo would tell everyone when they needed to know and not a moment before.

Although no elf living could remember a time of warfare, the magical weapons they’d once developed were celebrated in story and legend. Eliason knew all about them, described them all to Haplo. The two of them endeavored to determine which weapons the elves could manufacture swiftly, which weapons they could learn to use effectively—or at least learn how to inflict more damage on an enemy than on themselves.

After some discussion, Haplo and Eliason settled on the bow and arrow. The elven king was quite enamored of archery—a sport still used by some elves as a form of entertainment at parties. The magical arrows hit whatever target they were ordered to hit after being fired and therefore aim wasn’t all that critical.

The humans were already skilled in the use of bow and arrow, plus numerous other weapons. And although their weapons weren’t magically enhanced (nor would the humans use elven weapons, considering them suitable only for weaklings), the Coven had the power to summon the elements to assist in the battle.

This point settled, the Gargans, Phondrans, and Elmas took friendly leave of each other. Dwarves and elves sailed off to their homelands, and Haplo breathed a sigh of relief.

Walking back to his lodge, he was thinking to himself that, at last, everything seemed to be working out.

“Haplo,” said Alake. “May I speak with you? It’s about the dolphins.” He glanced at her impatiently, irritated at the interruption. “Yes? What about them?”

Alake bit her lip, looked abashed. “It’s urgent,” she said softly, in apology.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t bother you. I know what important matters you have on your mind ...”

It occurred to Haplo that the dolphins might have told the girl things she hadn’t told him. He had no way of knowing, he’d been involved in meetings since then.

He forced himself to pause, to smile at the girl, seem glad to see her. “I’m going back to my lodge. Will you walk with me?”

Alake returned his smile—how easy it was to please her—and fell into step beside him, moving gracefully to the pleasing silvery sounds of the bells and beads she wore.

“Now,” he said, “tell me about the dolphins.”

“They don’t mean any harm, but they do like to stir up excitement and, of course, it’s difficult for them to understand how important it is for us to find a new seamoon. The dolphins can’t figure out why we want to live on land. They think we should live in the water, as they do. And then they’re really frightened of the dragon-snakes . . .”

Alake wasn’t looking at him while she talked. Her eyes were averted; her hands, he noted, were nervously twisting the rings on her fingers. She knows something, Haplo concluded grimly. Something she isn’t telling.

“Sorry, Alake,” he said, still smiling at her, “but I’m afraid I don’t find fish much of a threat.”

“But I thought . . . that is, we thought . . . Grundle and Devon agree . . . that if the dolphins talked to our people, they might say things. The dolphins, I mean. Things that would upset our parents and maybe cause more delays.”

“What things, Alake?” Haplo came to a halt. They were near his lodge, no one else was around. “What did the dolphins say?”

The girl opened her eyes wide. “Nothing!” she began, faltered, hung her head.

“Please don’t make me tell you.”

It was well she couldn’t see the expression on Haplo’s face. He drew a deep breath, controlled the impulse to seize the girl and shake the information out of her. He did take hold of her, but his touch was gentle, caressing.

“Tell me, Alake. The lives of your people could be at stake.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with my people—”

“Alake.” Haplo’s grip on her tightened.

“They said terrible things about . . . about you!”

“What things?”

“That the dragon-snakes were evil, that you were evil. That you’re only using us.” Alake raised her head, her eyes flashed. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe a word. Neither do Grundle and Devon. But if the dolphins were to tell my parents . . .”

Yes, Haplo thought, that would finish it. Of all the damn, fool, stupid things to happen! His grand design, about to be wrecked by a bunch of fish!

“Don’t worry,” she said quickly, seeing the dark expression on his face. “I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Haplo was only half-listening, trying to figure out how to solve this latest crisis.

“I thought,” Alake suggested shyly, “that I might tell the dolphins to go on ahead of us ... act as scouts. They’d like that. They love to feel important. I could say it was my father’s suggestion. ...”

Haplo considered. It would keep the fish from causing trouble. By the time the mensch reached Surunan, it would be too late for them to back out, no matter what the dolphins told them.

“That’s a good idea, Alake.”

Her face was radiant. It took so little effort to make her happy, would take so little. A voice, which sounded very much like the voice of his lord, spoke in Haplo’s ear.

You could get this girl to do anything you want. Be nice to her. Give her a few trinkets, whisper sweet things to her in the night, promise her marriage. She would become your slave, do anything for you, even die for you. And, when you’re finished, you can always cast her aside. After all, she is only a mensch.

The two were still standing outside his lodge. Haplo had his hands on the girl’s arms. Alake moved closer, pressing her body nearer. He had only to draw her inside his hut and she would be his. She’d been startled the first time, taken by surprise. But now she’d had time to dream about lying in his arms. Her fear had been subdued by desire.

And in addition to the pleasure she would give him, she would be useful, too. A spy on her parents, on the dwarves and the elves. She would report back to him every word, every thought. And he would ensure that what she knew, she’d keep to herself. Not that she was likely to betray him, but this would make it certain. . . .

He fully intended to go through with her seduction, was surprised to watch himself pat her on the arms, as if she were an obedient child.

“A good idea,” he repeated. “We don’t have a moment to lose. Why don’t you go take care of the dolphins right now?” He took a step backward, away from her.

“Is that what you want?” she asked him, her voice low and breathless.

“You said yourself how important this was, Alake. Who knows but that, even now, your father isn’t on his way to talk to the dolphins.”

“He isn’t,” she said, drooping. “He’s in the lodge, talking with Mother.”

“Then now’s a perfect time.”

“Yes,” she said, but she lingered a moment longer, perhaps hoping he’d change his mind.

She was young, lovely.

Haplo turned from her and entered his hut, flung himself on his pallet as if exhausted. He waited, unmoving, in the cool darkness until he heard her soft footfalls passing through the dust. She was hurt, but not nearly as hurt as she would have been.

“After all, since when do I need a mensch to help me? I work alone. And damn Alfred, anyway,” he added incongruously. “This time, I’ll finish him.” The sun-chasers arrived on schedule. Two stayed to take aboard Dumaka’s tribe. Others traveled around the shores of the seamoon, gathering up the remainder of the human population of Phondra.

Haplo was pleasantly surprised at the dispatch and efficiency of the humans, who managed to collect everyone on board the submersibles with a minimum of fuss and confusion. Looking around the deserted camp, he was reminded of how easily the Squatters had been able to pack up their belongings and move on.

“Our people used to be nomads,” Dumaka explained. “We traveled to different parts of Phondra, following the game, gathering fruits and vegetables. Such a life caused wars, however. Men always imagine that the antelope are fatter in another man’s portion of the jungle.

“Peace has come to us slowly, we have worked long and hard for it. I am saddened to think we may be forced to go back to war.” Delu came to him, put her arm around him. The two of them looked wistfully around their now-empty, all—but-deserted village.

“All will be well, Husband. We are together. Our people are together. The One who guides the waves is with us. We’ll carry peace in our hearts and offer it to these Sartan as our greatest gift.”

Hopefully, they’ll spit in your face, Haplo thought. His one worry was Alfred. Alfred would not only take these mensch into his home, he’d give them the shabby velvet coat off his back. But Haplo was coming to think Alfred wasn’t a typical Sartan. The Patryn expected better things of Samah. Once the humans were taken on board the submersibles, they shed only a few tears at leaving their homeland. Those tears soon dried in the excitement of the trip, the anticipation of a new and purportedly rich world. There was no sign of the dragon-snakes.

Haplo sailed on the largest of the submersibles with the chief and his family, friends, and members of the Coven. The sun-chaser was similar to the much smaller submersible he’d sailed in before, except that it boasted several levels.

They reached Gargan, found the dwarves packed and ready to go, but did not find the elves, to no one’s surprise. Even Haplo had made allowances for them to be late; his dire threat of leaving them behind had only been intended to prod them on.

“It’ll be chaos,” Yngvar predicted dourly. “But I’ve sent my best men to captain the vessel and thrown in the army to boot. We’ll have them here in time, if not on time.”

The elven contingent arrived only four cycles late; the submersibles moving slowly, rolling in the sea like overfed whales.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Yngvar demanded.

“We’re overloaded, that’s what, Vater!” the dwarven captain raved, on the verge of tearing out his beard. “It would have been easier to drag the seamoon behind us. We might as well. The blasted elves brought along everything else! See for yourself!”

The dwarves had taken care to build bunks for the elves, but the Elmas took one look at them and refused to sleep in anything so crude. They had then attempted to bring their own heavy, ornately carved wooden bed frames aboard, at which the dwarven captain told them there was either room for the beds or for the elves, take their pick.

“I was hoping for the beds,” said the dwarf dourly to Yngvar. “At least they don’t make any noise.”

The elves eventually agreed to sleep in the bunks, then proceeded to drag aboard goose-feather mattresses, lace-edged sheets, silk blankets, and down pillows. And this was only the beginning. Every elven family had valuable heirlooms that simply could not be left behind—everything from fanciful magical clocks to harps that played themselves. One elf arrived with a full-grown tree in a pot; another with twenty-seven songbirds in twenty-seven silver cages.

Finally, everyone and everything was stowed aboard. The elves were, for the most part, satisfied, though it was impossible to move through the sun-chaser without tripping over something or someone.

Then began the truly difficult part—leaving their homeland. The humans, accustomed to constant moving about, had been matter-of-fact. The dwarves, though giving up their beloved caves was a wrench, took the departure with stoic calm. The elves were shattered. One dwarf captain reported that with all the tears shed in his ship, he had more water on the inside than the out. At last, however, the huge fleet of sun-chasers was assembled and ready to sail to their new homeland. The heads of the royal households gathered on the deck of the flagship to lead the people in prayer, asking the One to grant them a safe journey and a peaceful landing.

Their prayers concluded, the dwarven sea captains began exchanging a flurry of signals and the submersibles sank beneath the waves.

They had only traveled a short distance when a first officer, face white and panicked, approached Yngvar, knuckled his forehead to the dwarven king, and said something to him in low tones.

Yngvar frowned, glanced at the others. “Dragon-snakes,” he reported. Haplo had been aware of the snakes’ presence a long time: the sigla on his skin itched and burned. He rubbed at it irritably; the runes on his hands glowed a faint blue.

“Let me talk to them,” he said.

“How can any of us ‘talk’ to them?” Yngvar demanded gruffly. “We’re underwater!”

“There are ways,” said Haplo and headed off for the bridge, accompanied—whether he wanted them or not—by the mensch royalty. The warning blue glow of the runes shone through his shirt, reflected in the wide eyes of the mensch, who’d heard this phenomenon described by their children, but who’d never witnessed it.

It was useless for Haplo to try to tell himself that the dragon-snakes did not present a threat. His body was reacting to them as centuries of instinct had trained it to react. The only thing he could do was ignore the warning and hope that over time, his body would come to understand.

He entered the steerage, found the dwarven crew huddled together, muttering among themselves. The captain pointed out to sea.

The dragon-snakes hung in the water, huge bodies undulating with sinuous grace, eyes red slits in the green water.

“They’re blocking our way, Vater. I say we turn back.”

“And go where?” Haplo asked. “Back to your homeland and sit waiting for the ice to come? I’ll talk to them.”

“How?” Yngvar asked again, but the word came out a gargle. A shimmering, ghostly image of a dragon-snake appeared on the bridge. Fear flowed from it like chill water. Those members of the dwarven crew who could still move did so, fleeing the bridge with loud cries. Those who were frozen in terror stood staring, shivering. The captain held his ground, though his beard quivered and he was forced to keep his hand on the wheel to steady himself.

The royal families remained, too, for which courage Haplo gave them grudging credit. His own instinct was to run, swim, tear the wooden planks apart with his bare hands in order to escape. He fought against his fear, and managed to subdue it, though he had to work to find saliva enough in his mouth to speak.

“The sun-chaser fleet is assembled, Royal One. We are sailing for Surunan as we planned. Why do you stand in our path?”

Slit eyes—merely a reflection of the real eyes—glowed red, gazed steadfastly at Haplo.

“The distance is far, the way is long. We have come to guide you, Master.”

“A trick!” breathed Yngvar, teeth clicking together.

“We can find our own way,” added Dumaka.

Delu raised her voice suddenly in a chant, held up some kind of rock she wore on a chain around her neck, probably some crude mensch form of protective magic.

The red eyes of the dragon-snake narrowed to slits.

“Shut up, all of you!” Haplo snarled. He kept his own gaze fixed on the dragon-snake. “We thank you for your offer, Royal One. And we will follow. Captain, keep your vessel in the dragon’s wake, order all the other sun-chasers to do likewise.”

The dwarf looked to his king for confirmation. Yngvar’s face was dark with anger and terror; he started to shake his head.

“Don’t be a fool,” Haplo warned him in a quiet undertone. “If they wanted to kill you, they would have done so long before now. Accept their offer. It’s no trick. I guarantee it ... with my life,” he added, seeing the dwarf king still hesitate.

“We have no choice, Yngvar,” said Eliason.

“And you, Dumaka?” the dwarf demanded, breathing heavily. “What do you say?” Husband and wife exchanged glances. Delu shrugged in bitter acquiescence. “We have our people to consider.”

“Go ahead, then.” Dumaka agreed, frowning.

“Very well,” stated Yngvar. “Do as he says.”

“Yes, Vater,” the captain answered, but he cast Haplo a sullen glance. “Tell the creature it must take itself off my bridge. I can’t run my ship without a crew.”

The dragon-snake was already starting to disappear, fading from view slowly, leaving behind the vague uneasiness and half-remembered fears that assail a sleeper waking suddenly from a bad dream.

The mensch breathed deep sighs of relief, though their dark looks did not brighten. The submersible’s crew and officers returned, shamefaced, avoiding their captain’s irate glare.

Haplo turned and left. On his way out, he nearly ran down Grundle, Alake, and Devon, emerging rather hastily from the shadows of a nearby doorway.

“You’re wrong!” Alake was saying to Devon.

“For your sake, I hope I—”

“Shush!” Grundle caught sight of Haplo.

The three fell silent. He had obviously interrupted an important conversation, and he had the feeling it was about him. The other two had heard the dolphins, too, apparently. Devon looked ashamed, kept his gaze averted. Grundle, however, stared at Haplo defiantly.

“Spying again?” he said. “I thought you’d learned your lesson.”

“Guess not,” muttered Grundle, as he passed.

The remainder of the voyage was peaceful. They didn’t see the dragon-snakes, their dread influence could no longer be felt. The submersible sailed along in the wake left by the huge bodies, swimming far ahead.

Life aboard ship was boring, claustrophobic, uneventful.

Haplo was certain that the three mensch were up to something. But, after a few days of keeping a close eye on them, he concluded he must be mistaken. Alake avoided him, devoted herself to her mother and her studies of magic, in which she had developed a renewed interest. Devon and a host of younger elves spent their time practicing shooting arrows at a target they had set up. Grundle was the only one who gave Haplo cause for concern, and then only as a minor annoyance, like a gnat.

More than once, he caught her trailing after him, staring at him, her expression grave and thoughtful, as if she was having difficulty making up her mind about him. And when she discovered him looking at her, she’d give him an abrupt nod or shake her side whiskers at him, turn around, and stump off. Alake had said Grundle didn’t believe the dolphins. Apparently, Alake’d been wrong.

Haplo didn’t waste time trying to argue with the dwarf. After all, what the dolphins had told the young people was true. He was using the mensch. He spent most of his waking hours with them, molding them, shaping them, leading them to do what he wanted. His task wasn’t easy. The mensch, terrified of their dragon-snake allies, might come to greatly admire the would-be enemy. This was Haplo’s one fear, the one toss of the rune-bone that would end his game. If the Sartan welcomed the mensch with open arms, clasped them to their bosoms, so to speak, Haplo was finished. He’d escape, of course. The dragon-snakes would see to that. But he’d have to go back to the Nexus empty-handed, make a humiliating report to his lord.

Faced with that choice, Haplo wasn’t certain he would go back at all. Better to die . . .

Time passed quickly, even for the Patryn, impatient to at last meet his greatest foe. He was lying in his bed when he heard a grinding sound, felt a jolt pass through the ship. Voices cried out in alarm, only to be reassured the next moment by their king.

The submersibles floated upward, broke through the water. Open air and sunshine—bright sunshine—surrounded them.

The sun-chasers had caught the sun.