The Hand of Chaos

1

The seawater ran sluggishly through the streets of Surunan, the city built by the Sartan. The water rose slowly, flowed through doors and windows, eased over low rooftops. Fragments of Sartan life floated on the water’s surface—an unbroken pottery bowl, a man’s sandal, a woman’s comb, a wooden chair. The water seeped into the room of Samah’s house used by the Sartan as a prison cell. The prison room was located on an upper floor and was, for a time, above the rising tide. But, eventually, the seawater slid under the door, flowed across the floor, crept up the room’s walls. Its touch banished magic, canceled it, nullified it. The dazzling runes, whose flesh-searing heat kept Haplo from even approaching the door, sizzled... and went out. The runes that guarded the window were the only ones yet left unaffected. Their bright glow was reflected in the water below.

Prisoner of the magic, Haplo sat in enforced idleness watching the runes’ reflections in the rising seawater, watched them move and shift and dance with the water’s currents and eddies. The moment the water touched the base of the runes on|the window, the moment their glow began to glimmer and fade, Haplo stood up. The water came to his knees.

The dog whined. Head and shoulders above the water, the animal was unhappy.

“This is it, boy. Time to leave.” Haplo thrust the book in which he’d been writing inside his shirt, secured it at his waist, tucked it between pants and skin.

He noticed, as he did so, that the runes tattooed on his body had almost completely faded. The seawater that was his blessing, that was allowing him to escape, was also his curse. His magical power gone, he was helpless as a newborn child, and had no mother’s comforting, protecting arms to cradle him. Weak and powerless, unsettled in mind and in soul, he must leave this room and plunge into the vast sea whose water gave him life as it washed away his life, and it would carry him on a perilous journey.

Haplo thrust open the window, paused. The dog looked questioningly at its master. It was tempting to stay here, to stay safe in his prison. Outside, somewhere beyond these sheltering walls, the serpents waited. They would destroy him, they must destroy him; he knew the truth. Knew them for what they were—the embodiment of chaos.

This knowledge of the truth was the very reason he had to leave. He had to warn his lord. An enemy greater than any they’d yet faced—more cruel and cunning than any dragon in the Labyrinth, more powerful than the Sartan—was poised to destroy them.

“Go on,” Haplo said to the dog, and gestured.

Cheered at the prospect of finally leaving this soggy, boring place, the dog leapt gleefully out the window, splashed into the water in the street below. Haplo drew in a deep breath—an instinctive reaction, not really necessary, for the seawater was breathable as air—and jumped in after.

The Chalice was the only stable land mass in the water world of Chelestra. Built by the Sartan to more closely resemble the world they had sundered and fled, the Chalice was encased in its own protective bubble of air. The water that surrounded it gave the illusion of sky, through which Chelestra’s water-bound sun shone with a rippling brightness. The serpents had broken through the barrier and now the Chalice was flooding.

Haplo found a piece of wood, caught hold of it, used it to keep himself afloat. He paddled in the water, stared around, attempted to get his bearings, and saw, with relief, the top of Council Hall. It stood on a hill and would be the last place to be submerged by the rising tides. There, undoubtedly, the Sartan had taken refuge. He squinted in the sunlight that sparkled off the water, thought he could detect people on the roof. They would keep themselves dry, free of the magic-debilitating seawater as long as possible.

“Don’t fight it,” he advised them, though they were much too far away to hear him. “It only makes it worse, in the end.”

At least now he had some idea where he was. He propelled himself forward, heading for the tops of the city walls that he could see thrusting up out of the water. The walls divided the Sartan portion of the city from what had once been the mensch portion. And beyond that lay the shoreline of the Chalice; the shoreline and mensch landing parties and a ship to carry him to Draknor. On that tortured seamoon was moored his own dwarven submersible, altered with the magic of the runes, strengthened to carry him through Death’s Gate. His only hope of escape.

But also, on Draknor, the serpents.

“If so,” he said to the dog, who was paddling along valiantly, front paws working like a small machine, back legs not quite certain what to make of this strange swimming business but doing their best to hold up their end, “this is going to be one short trip.”

His plans were vague, couldn’t be formed until he knew where the snakes were... and how to avoid them.

He pushed forward, balanced on the wood, kicking through the water. He could have abandoned the plank and given himself to the sea, breathing it as effortlessly as air. But he detested those first few moments of terror that came with purposefully drowning oneself, the body refusing to accept the mind’s reassurance that it was only returning to the womb, to a world it had once known. He clung to the plank, kicked until his legs ached. It occurred to him suddenly that this plank was an ominous sign. Unless he was much mistaken, it had come from one of the wooden dwarven submersibles, and it had been broken, both ends splintered.

Had the serpents become bored with this peaceful takeover of Surunan, then turned on and butchered the mensch?

“If so,” Haplo muttered, “I’ve got myself to blame for it.” He kicked harder, faster, needing desperately to find out what was happening. But he soon tired, his muscles burned and cramped. He was swimming against the tide, against the flow of the seawater that was being channeled into the city. The loss of his magic made him feel unusually weak; he knew that from past bitter experience.

The tide carried him up against the city walls. He caught hold of a turret, climbed up the side, planning not only to rest but to reconnoiter, to try to catch a glimpse of what lay ahead on the shore. The dog attempted to stop, but the current carried it on past. Haplo leaned out at a perilous angle, caught hold of the dog by the scruff of its neck. He hauled it in—the animal’s back legs scrabbling for purchase—and heaved it up onto the balustrade with him. From this vantage point, he had an excellent view of the harbor of Surunan, the shoreline beyond that. Haplo looked out, nodded grimly.

“We needn’t have worried, boy,” he said, smacking the dog’s wet and shaggy flank. “At least they’re safe.”

The animal grinned, shook itself.

The fleet of mensch submersibles was drawn up in a more or less orderly line in the harbor. The sun-chasers bobbed on the surface. Mensch lined the bows, pointing and shouting, leaning over the rails, jumping into the water. Numerous small boats plied back and forth between ship and shore, probably ferrying the dwarves, who could not swim. The humans and elves—far more at home in the water—were directing the work of several huge whales, pushing crudely built, heavily loaded rafts into the harbor.

Eyeing the rafts, Haplo glanced down at the wooden plank that he’d dragged up with him. That’s why they’d broken up the submersibles. The mensch were moving in.

“But... where are the serpents?” he asked the dog, who lay, panting, at his feet.

Nowhere in sight, apparently. Haplo watched as long as he could, driven by the need to escape this world and return to the Nexus and his lord, yet constrained by the equal need to reach that world alive. Patience, caution—hard lessons to learn, but the Labyrinth was an excellent teacher. He saw no sign of serpent heads looming out of the water. Perhaps they were all under the surface, boring the holes into the foundation of the Chalice through which the seawater was pouring.

“I need to find out,” Haplo said to himself in frustration. If the snakes knew he was free and was planning to flee Chelestra, they’d stop him, if they could.

He weighed the alternatives. Taking time to talk to the mensch meant delay, risked revealing his presence to them. They’d welcome him with joy, want to hang on to him, use him. He didn’t have time to fool with the mensch. But not taking the time to find out what was going on with the serpents might mean an even greater delay—perhaps a deadly one.

He waited several moments, hoping for some sign of the snakes. Nothing. And he couldn’t stay on this damn wall forever. Deciding to trust to opportunity, Haplo plunged back into the water. The dog, with a wild bark, splashed in beside him. Haplo swam into the harbor. Hanging on to the wood, he kept himself low in the water, steered clear of the flow of traffic. He was well known by sight among the mensch and wanted to avoid them as much as possible. Clinging to his plank, he peered closely into the dwarven boats. It was in his mind to talk to Grundle, if he could find her. She had more sense than most mensch, and, though she would undoubtedly make a fuss over him, he figured he could extract himself from her affectionate clutches without too much difficulty. He didn’t find her, however. And still no sign of any serpents. But he did come across a small submersible—used to rescue dwarves who had the mischance to fall into the water—secured to a post. He drifted near, eyeing it intently. No one was around; it appeared to have been abandoned. A whale-driven raft had just arrived on shore. Numerous dwarves were gathered around, preparing to unload its cargo... Haplo guessed that the crew of this submersible were among them.

He swam over to it. This was too good to pass up. He’d steal it, sail to Draknor. If the serpents were there... well... he’d deal with that when the time came...

Something large and alive and slick-skinned bumped into him. Haplo’s heart lurched. He gulped in his breath and a mouthful of water at the same time, started to choke and cough. Kicking himself backward, away from the creature, he struggled to breathe and readied himself to fight.

A shining head with two beady eyes and a wide-open, laughing mouth popped out of the water directly in front of him. Two more heads shot up on either side of him, four swam about him in rollicking delight, nosing him and prodding him.

Dolphins.

Haplo gasped, spit out water. The dog attempted a furious bark, which proceeding highly amused the dolphins and nearly drowned the dog. Haplo dragged its forelegs up onto the plank, where the animal lay panting and glaring.

“Where are the dragon-snakes?” Haplo demanded, speaking in the human tongue. Previously, the dolphins had refused to talk to him or have anything to do with him. But that was when they’d assumed him to be—rightly enough—on the side of the serpents. Now their attitude toward him had changed. They began to squeak and whistle in excitement and a few started to swim off, eager to be the first to spread the news around the mensch that the mysterious man with the blue-tattooed skin had reappeared.

“No! Wait, don’t go. Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me,” he said hastily.

“What’s going on here? Where are the dragon-snakes?” The dolphins squeaked and gabbled. In seconds, Haplo heard everything he wanted to know and quite a lot that he didn’t.

“We heard that Samah took you prisoner...”

“The snakes brought poor Alake’s body back to...”

“Parents prostrate with grief ...”

“Snakes said you...”

“. . . and the Sartan...”

“Yes, you and the Sartan were responsible ...”

“You double-crossed...”

“Betrayed your friends...”

“Coward...”

“No one believed...”

“Yes, they did...”

“No, they didn’t. Well, maybe for a moment...”

“Anyway, the snakes used their magic to bore holes in the Chalice...”

“Gigantic holes!”

“Huge!”

“Immense!”

“Floodgates.”

“Opened at once... a wall of water...”

“Tidal wave ...”

“Nothing survive... Sartan crushed!”

“Flattened...”

“City destroyed...”

“We warned the mensch about the dragon-snakes and their bore holes...”

“Grundle and Devon returned...”

“Told the true story. You are a hero...”

“No, he isn’t. That was the one called Alfred.”

“I was only being polite...”

“Mensch were worried...”

“They don’t want to kill the Sartan...”

“They’re afraid of the dragon-snakes. Dwarven ships went to investigate ...”

“But the snakes are nowhere in sight...”

“The dwarves opened the floodgates just a crack and...”

“Stop! Shut up!” Haplo shouted, managing at last to make himself heard. “What do you mean ‘the snakes are nowhere in sight’? Where are they?” The dolphins began to argue among themselves. Some said the serpents had returned to Draknor, but the general consensus seemed to be that the snakes had swum through the holes and were attacking the Sartan in Surunan.

“No, they’re not,” said Haplo. “I just came from Surunan, and the city’s quiet. The Sartan are, as far as I know, safely inside their Council Chamber, trying to keep dry.”

The dolphins looked rather disappointed at this news. They meant no harm to the Sartan, but it had been such a great story. They were now all in agreement.

“The dragon-snakes must have gone back to Draknor.” Haplo was forced to agree himself. The serpents had returned to Draknor. But why? Why had they left Surunan so abruptly? Why had they abandoned the chance to destroy the Sartan? Abandoned their plans to foment chaos among the mensch, turn them against each other?

Haplo couldn’t answer the questions, supposed bitterly it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the serpents were on Draknor and so was his ship.

“I don’t suppose any of you have been to Draknor to find out?” he asked. The dolphins squealed in alarm at the thought, shook their heads emphatically. None would get near Draknor. It was a terrible place of great sadness and evil. The water itself was poison, killed anything that swam in it. Haplo forwent mentioning that he himself had swum in the water and survived. He couldn’t blame these gentle creatures for not wanting to go near Draknor. He wasn’t pleased at the prospect of returning to that tortured seamoon himself. But he had no choice.

Now his main problem was ridding himself of the dolphins. Fortunately, that was simple. They loved to feel important.

“I need you fish to carry a message from me to the mensch leaders, to be delivered to every member of the royal family in person, in private. Understand? It’s extremely important.”

“We’ll be only too glad...”

“You can trust...”

“Implicitly...”

“Tell every person...”

“No, not every...”

“Just the royal...”

“Every person, I tell you...”

“I’m sure that’s what he said...”

Once he got them quiet long enough to hear, Haplo imparted the message, taking care that it was complicated and involved.

The dolphins listened intently and swam off the moment Haplo shut his mouth. When he was certain that the dolphins’ attention was no longer on him, he and the dog swam to the submersible, climbed aboard, and sailed off.