The Hand of Chaos

8

The trip through Death’s Gate was uneventful. Haplo charmed Bane to sleep almost immediately after they departed the Nexus. It had occurred to Haplo that the passage into Death’s Gate had become so simple a skilled mensch wizard might attempt it. Bane was observant, intelligent, and the son of a skilled wizard. Haplo had a sudden vision of Bane flitting from one world to another.... Nope. Nap time.

They had no difficulty reaching Arianus, World of Air. The images of the various worlds flashed past Haplo; he found the floating isles of Arianus with ease. But before he concentrated on it, he spent a few moments watching the other worlds drift before him, shining in rainbow hues like soap bubbles, before bursting and being replaced by the next. All of them were places he recognized except one. And that one—the most beautiful, the most intriguing. Haplo stared at the vision as long as he could, which was only a matter of fleeting seconds. He had intended to ask Xar about it, but the lord had left before Haplo had a chance to discuss it.

Was there a fifth world?

Haplo rejected that notion. No mention of a fifth world had ever been made in any of the ancient Sartan writings.

The old world.

Haplo thought this much more probable. The flashing image he saw of it accorded with descriptions of the old world. But the old world no longer existed; a world torn apart by magic. Perhaps this was nothing more than a poignant memory, kept around to remind the Sartan of what had once been. But, if that were so, why should it be presented as an option? Haplo watched the possibilities sparkle before his eyes again and again. Always in the same order: the strange world of blue sky and bright sun, moon, and stars, boundless ocean and broad vistas; then the Labyrinth, dark and tangled; then the twilight Nexus, then the four elemental worlds.

If Haplo had not had Bane with him, he would have been tempted to explore, to select the image in his mind and see what happened. He glanced down at the child, slumbering peacefully, his arm around the dog; both of them sharing a cot Haplo had dragged onto the bridge in order to keep an eye on the kid. The dog, sensing its master’s gaze, opened its eyes, blinked lazily, yawned widely, and, seeing no action was imminent, gave a contented sigh and crowded closer to the child, nearly pushing Bane off the cot. Bane muttered something in his deep, something about Xar, and suddenly clutched the dog’s for with pinching hands.

The dog gave a pained yelp, reared its head, and looked at the child with a bemused expression, wondering what it had done to deserve such rough treatment, uncertain how to extricate itself. The dog looked up at Haplo, asking for help.

Haplo, smiling, uncurled the sleeping child’s fingers from the dog’s fur, petted the dog’s head in apology. The dog gave Bane a distrustful glance, jumped off the cot, and curled up safely on the deck at Haplo’s feet. Haplo looked back at the visions, concentrated on Arianus, put the others out of his mind.

The first time Haplo had traveled to Arianus had nearly been his last. Unprepared for both the magical forces of Death’s Gate and the violent physical forces existent in the, Realm of Air, he had been forced to crash-land his ship on what he had later learned were a series of small floating isles known as the Steps of Terrel Fen.

He was prepared, now, for the terrible effects of the ferocious storm that raged perpetually in the Lower Realms. The protective sigla that had only glowed faintly during their passage through Death’s Gate flared a vibrant blue when the first blast of wind smote the vessel. Lightning was almost continual, brilliant, blinding. Thunder crashed around them, the wind buffeted them. Hail battered the wooden shell, rain lashed against the window, forming a solid sheet of water, making it impossible to see.

Haplo brought the ship to a standstill, kept it floating in midair. Having spent time on Drevlin—the principal isle of the Lower Realm—he had learned that these storms swept through in cycles. He had only to wait for this one to pass; then would come a period of relative calm before the next one. During that calm, he would find a place to land, make contact with the dwarves. Haplo considered keeping Bane asleep, decided to allow the boy to wake up. He might as well make himself useful. A quick brush of Haplo’s hand wiped away the rune he’d traced on the child’s forehead.

Bane sat up, blinked dazedly around for a moment, then glared at the Patryn accusingly.

“You put me to sleep.”

Haplo saw no need to verify, comment on, or apologize for his action. Keeping watch as best he could out the rain-smeared window, he flicked a glance at the boy.

“Go through the ship, see if there are any leaks or cracks in the hull.” Bane flushed angrily at the Patryn’s offhand, commanding tone. Haplo watched the crimson wave spread from the fair neck to the cheeks. The blue eyes flashed in rebellion. Xar had not spoiled the child, who had been in the lord’s care over a year now. The lord had done much to improve Bane’s temper, but the boy had been raised a prince in a royal household and was accustomed to giving orders, not taking them.

Especially not from Haplo.

“If you’ve done your magic right, there shouldn’t be any cracks,” said Bane petulantly.

We might as well get settled now who’s boss, Haplo thought. He shifted his gaze back to the window, watching for the first signs that the storm was about to subside.

“I did my magic right. But you’ve worked with the runes. You know how delicate the balance is. One tiny sliver could start a crack that would end up breaking apart the entire ship. Best to make sure, to stop it now before it gets wider.”

A moment’s silence, which Haplo assumed was spent in internal struggle.

“Can I take the dog with me?” Bane asked in sullen tones. Haplo waved a hand.

“Sure.”

The child seemed to cheer up. “Can I feed him a sausage?” The dog, at the sound of its favorite word, was on its feet, tongue lolling, tail wagging.

“Only one,” said Haplo. “I’m not sure how long this Storm’s going to last. We may need to eat the sausages ourselves.”

“You can always conjure up more,” said Bane happily. “C’mon, dog.” The two clattered away, heading for the ship’s stern. Haplo watched the rain slide down the windowpane, H thought back to when he’d first brought the boy to the Nexus...

...“The kid’s name is Bane, Lord,” said Haplo. “I know,” he added, seeing Xar’s frown, “it’s a strange name for a human child, but, once you know his history, the name makes sense. You’ll find an account of him there, Lord, in my journal.”

Xar fingered the document but did not open it. Haplo remained standing in respectful silence, waiting for his lord to apeak. The lord’s next question was not entirely unexpected. “I asked you to bring me a disciple from this world, Haplo. Arianus is, as you describe it, a world in chaos: elves, dwarves, humans all fighting each other, the elves fighting among themselves. A serious shortage of water, due to the failure of the Sartan to align the floating islands and make their fantastic machine operational. When I begin my conquest, I will need a lieutenant, preferably one of the mensch, to to Arianus and gain control over the people in my name Awhile I am busy elsewhere. And for this purpose you bring me a ten-year-old human child?” The child under discussion was asleep in a back bedroom in Xar’s dwelling. Haplo had left the dog with him, to give its master notice if Bane woke. Haplo did not flinch beneath his Lord’s stern gaze. Xar was not doubting his minion; the Lord was puzzled, perplexed—a feeling Haplo could well understand. He’d been prepared for the question, he was prepared with the answer.

“Bane is no ordinary mensch child, Lord. As you will note in the journal[16]—”

“I will read the journal later, at my leisure. I would be much interested to hear your report on the child now.”

Haplo bowed in compliance, sat down in the chair Xar indicated with a wave of his hand.

“The boy is the son of two humans known among their people as mysteriarchs—powerful wizards, by mensch standards, at least. The father called himself Sinistrad, the mother’s name is Iridal. These mysteriarchs with their great skill in magic considered the rest of the human race barbaric boors. The mysteriarchs left the fighting and chaos in the Mid Realms, traveled up to the High Realms. Here they discovered a land of beauty that, unfortunately for them, turned out to be a death trap.

“The High Realms had been created by the rune-magic of the Sartan. The mysteriarchs had no more idea how to read Sartan magic than a toddler can read a treatise on metaphysics. Their crops withered in the fields, water was scarce, the rarefied air was difficult to breathe. Their people began to die out. The mysteriarchs knew they had to flee this place, return to the Mid Realms. But, like most humans, they feared their own kind. They were afraid to admit their weakness. And so they determined that when they went back, it would be as conquerors, not as supplicants.

“The boy’s father, Sinistrad, devised a remarkable plan. The human king of the Mid Realms, one Stephen, and his wife, Anne, had given birth to an heir to the throne. At about that same time, Sinistrad’s own wife, Iridal, gave birth to their son. Sinistrad switched the babies, taking his own child down to the Mid Realms and bringing Stephen’s son back to the Upper Realms. It was Sinistrad’s intent to use Bane—as heir to the throne—to gain control of the Mid Realms.

“Of course, everyone in the Mid Realms knew the babies had been switched, but Sinistrad had cleverly cast a charm upon his son that made everyone who looked on the child dote on him. When Bane was a year old, Sinistrad came to Stephen and informed the king of his plan. King Stephen was powerless to fight the mysteriarch. In their hearts, Stephen and Anne loathed and feared the changeling—that was why they named him Bane—but the enchantment around him was so strong that they could do nothing themselves to get rid of him. Finally, in desperation, they hired an assassin to take Bane away and kill him.

“As it turned out, Lord,”—Haplo grinned—“Bane almost assassinated the assassin.”

“Indeed?” Xar appeared impressed.

“Yes, you’ll find the details there.” Haplo indicated the journal. “Bane wore an amulet, given to him by Sinistrad, that transmitted the wizard’s commands to the boy, transmitted whatever the boy heard back to Sinistrad. Thus the mysteriarchs spied on the humans, knew every move King Stephen made. Not that Bane needed much guidance in intrigue. From what I’ve seen of the kid, he could have taught his father a thing or two.

“Bane’s quick-witted, intelligent. He’s a clairvoyant, and skilled in magic, for a human, though he’s untrained. It was Bane who figured out how the Kicksey-winsey works, what it’s intended to do. That’s his diagram I’ve included in there, Lord. And he’s ambitious. When it became clear to Bane that his father did not intend for them to rule the Mid Realms as a father and son team, Bane determined to get rid of Sinistrad.

“Bane’s plot succeeded, though not quite as he’d planned it. The boy’s life was saved, ironically enough, by the man who’d been hired to kill him. A waste, that,” Haplo added thoughtfully. “Hugh the Hand was an interesting human, a skilled and able fighter. He was exactly what you were seeking in a disciple, Lord. I had planned bringing him to you, but, unfortunately, he died battling the wizard. A waste, as I said.”

The Lord of the Nexus was only half listening. Opening the journal, he’d discovered the diagram of the Kicksey-winsey. He studied it carefully.

“The child did this?” he asked.

“Yes, Lord.”

“You’re certain.”

“I was spying on them when Bane showed this to his father. Sinistrad was as impressed as you are.”

“Remarkable. And the child is charming, winning, comely. The enchantment his father cast over him would have no effect on us, certainly, but does it still work upon the mensch?”

“Alfred, the Sartan, was of the opinion that the enchantment had been dispelled. But”—Haplo shrugged—“Hugh the Hand was under this boy’s spell—whether by magic or merely pity for an unloved child who had been nothing but a pawn all his life. Bane is clever and knows how to use his youth and his beauty to manipulate others.”

“What of the child’s mother? What did you say her name was, Iridal?”

“She could be trouble. When we left, she was searching for her son in company with the Sartan, Alfred.”

“She wants the boy for her own purposes, I presume.”

“No, I think she wants him for himself. She never went along with her husband’s plan, not really. Sinistrad had some sort of terrible hold over her. She was afraid of him. And, with his demise, the courage of the other mysteriarchs collapsed. There was talk when I left that they were abandoning the High Realms, planning to move down among the other humans.”

“The mother could be disposed of?”

“Easily, Lord.”

Xar smoothed the pages of the journal with his gnarled fingers, but he wasn’t looking at it any longer, nor paying attention to it.

“‘A little child shall lead them.’ An old mensch saying, Haplo. You have acted wisely, my son. I might go so far as to say that your choice was inspired. Those mensch who would feel threatened by an adult coming to lead them will be completely disarmed by this innocent-seeming child. The boy has the typical human faults, of course. He is hotheaded, lacks patience and discipline. But with the proper tutelage, I believe he can be molded into something quite extraordinary for a mensch. I begin, already, to see the vague outline of my plan.”

“I am glad to have pleased you, Lord,” said Haplo.

“Yes,” murmured the Lord of the Nexus, “a little child shall lead them...” The storm abated. Haplo took advantage of the relative calm to fly over the isle of Drevlin, searching for a place to land. He had come to know this area quite well. He’d spent considerable time here on his last visit, preparing his elven ship for its return through Death’s Gate.

The continent of Drevlin was flat and featureless, a hunk of what the mensch called “coralite” floating in the Maelstrom. One could judge landmarks, however, by the Kicksey-winsey, the gigantic machine whose wheels and engines and gears and pulleys and arms and claws spread out over Drevlin’s surface, delved deep into the island’s interior.

Haplo was searching for the Liftalofts, nine huge mechanical arms made of gold and steel that thrust up into the swirling storm clouds. These Liftalofts were the most important part of the Kicksey-winsey, at least as far as the mensch on Arianus were concerned, for it was the Liftalofts that provided water to the dry realms above. The Liftalofts were located in the city of Wombe, and it was in Wombe that Haplo hoped to find Limbeck.

Haplo had no idea how the political situation might have changed during his absence, but when he’d last left Arianus, Limbeck had made Wombe his power base. It was necessary that Haplo find the leader of the dwarves, and he judged that Wombe would be as good a place to start searching as any. The nine arms, each with an outstretched golden hand, were easy to spot from the air. The storm had died down, though more clouds were massing on the horizon. Lightning reflected off the metal, the frozen hands were silhouetted against the clouds. Haplo landed on a patch of empty ground, bringing the ship down in the shadow of an apparently abandoned portion of the machine. At least he assumed it was abandoned, no light shone from it, no gears were grinding, no wheels turning, no “lectricity,” as the Gegs termed it, was rivaling the lightning with its blue-yellow voltage.

Once safely on the ground, Haplo noticed that there were no lights anywhere. Puzzled, he peered out the rain-streaked window. As he recalled, the Kicksey-winsey turned the storm-ridden darkness of Drevlin into artificial, perpetual day. Glimmerglamps shone everywhere, ’lectric zingers sent jagged bolts sparking into the air.

Now, the city and its surroundings were lit only by the light of the sun, which, by the time it had been filtered down through the clouds of the Maelstrom, was leaden and sullen and more depressing than darkness. Haplo stood staring out the window, recalling his last visit here, trying to remember if there had been lights on this part of the Kicksey-winsey, or if he was, in fact, thinking about another portion of the great machine.

“Maybe that was in Het,” he muttered, then shook his head. “No, it was here. I definitely remember—”

A thump and a warning bark jolted him out of his reverie.

Haplo walked back to the ship’s stern. Bane was standing beside the hatch, holding a sausage just out of the dog’s reach.

“You can have this,” he was promising the dog, “but only if you quit barking. Let me get this open. All right? Good dog.”

Bane shoved the sausage in a pocket, turned to the hatch, and began to fumble with the sliding latch that would, ordinarily, have opened the door. The latch remained stuck firmly in place. Bane glared at it, beat on it with his small fists. The dog kept its eyes fixed intently on the sausage.

“Going somewhere, Your Highness?” Haplo asked, leaning casualty against one of the bulkheads. He had decided, in the interests of portraying Bane as rightful heir to the Volkaran throne, to use the title due to a human prince. He supposed he might as well get used to it now, before they appeared in public. Of course, he’d have to blunt the ironic edge.

Bane glanced reproachfully at the dog, gave the recalcitrant latch one final, futile push with his hands, then looked up coolly at Haplo.

“I want to go outside. It’s hot and stuffy in here. And it smells of dog,” he added scornfully.

The animal, hearing its name and thinking it was being referred to in a friendly manner—perhaps in regard to the sausage—wagged its tail and licked its chops.

“You used magic on it, didn’t you,” Bane continued accusingly, giving the latch another push.

“The same magic I’ve used throughout the ship, Your Highness. I had to. It wouldn’t do to let one part remain unprotected, just as it wouldn’t do to ride to battle with a gaping hole in your armor. Besides, I don’t think you want to go outside just yet. There’s another storm coming. You remember the storms on Drevlin, don’t you?”

“I remember. I can see when a storm’s coming, same as you. And I wouldn’t have stayed out that long. I wasn’t going that far.”

“Where were you going, Your Highness?”

“Nowhere. Just for a walk.” Bane shrugged.

“Not thinking of trying to contact the dwarves on your own, eh?”

“Of course not, Haplo,” Bane said, eyes round. “Grandfather said I was to stay with you. And I always obey Grandfather.”

Haplo noticed the emphasis on the last word, smiled grimly. “Good. Remember, I’m here for your protection, as much as anything. It’s not very safe on this world. Not even if you are a prince. There are those who would kill you just for that alone.”

“I know,” said Bane, looking subdued, somewhat ashamed. “The elves almost killed me last time I was here. I guess I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry, Haplo.” Clear blue eyes gazed upward. “It was very wise of Grandfather to give you to me for a guard. You always obey Grandfather, too, don’t you, Haplo?” The question caught Haplo by surprise. He glanced swiftly at Bane, wondering what—if anything—the child meant by it. For an instant, Haplo thought he saw a glitter of cunning, sly and malevolent, in the wide blue eyes. But Bane stared at him guilelessly, a child asking a childish question.

Haplo turned away. “I’m going back up front, to keep watch.” The dog whined, looked pathetically at the sausage, still in Bane’s pocket.

“You didn’t ask me about the leaks,” Bane reminded Haplo.

“Well, were there any?”

“No. You work the magic pretty good. Not as good as Grandfather, but pretty good.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Haplo said, bowed, and walked off. Bane took the sausage out of his pocket, smacked the dog lightly and playfully on the nose with it. “That’s for giving me away,” he said, in mild reproof. The dog slavered, regarded the sausage hungrily.

“Still, I guess it was for the best.” Bane frowned. “Haplo’s right. I’d forgotten about those damn bastard elves. I’d like to meet the one who threw me off the ship that time. I’d tell Haplo to throw that elf into the Maelstrom. And I’d watch him fall, all the way down. I’ll bet you could hear him scream a long, long time. Yes, Grandfather was right. I see that now. Haplo will be useful to me, until I can find someone else.

“Here you go.” Bane handed over the sausage. The dog snapped it up, swallowed it in a gulp. Bane petted the silky head fondly. “And then you’ll be mine. You and me and Grandfather. We’ll all live together and we won’t let anyone hurt Grandfather anymore ever. Will we, boy?”

Bane laid his cheek on the dog’s head, cuddled the warm body.

“Will we?”