The Hand of Chaos

7

Bane had studied Haplo closely for several moments after his greeting, noted that the man was paying more attention to inward musings than outward influences. Excellent, the child thought and dashed on ahead. It doesn’t matter if Haplo sees me now. Probably wouldn’t have mattered if he’d noticed me watching him earlier. Adults have a tendency to overlook the presence of a child, to treat a child as if it were a dumb animal and could not possibly understand what was going on, what was being said. Bane had discovered this tendency early in his short life, had fi used it often to his own advantage. But Bane had learned to be careful around Haplo. Although Bane despised the man, as he despised nearly every I adult, the child had been forced to concede Haplo grudging respect. He wasn’t as stupid as most adults. Therefore, Bane had taken extra precautions. But now the need for caution was ended, the need for haste urgent.

Bane ran through the forest, nearly knocking over a Patryn, lounging along the path, who gazed after the child with eyes that glinted red in the twilight. Reaching the lord’s house, Bane hurled open the door and dashed into the study. The lord was not there.

For an instant, Bane panicked. Xar had left for Abarrach already! Then he paused a moment to catch his breath, consider.

No, that couldn’t be possible. The lord had not given Bane final instructions, nor said good-bye. Bane breathed easier and, his head clear, he knew where he would find his adopted “grandfather.”

Proceeding through the large house, Bane walked out a door at the back, emerged onto a broad expanse of smooth green lawn. A ship, covered with runes, stood in the lawn’s center. Haplo would have recognized the ship—it was similar in almost every detail to the one he’d flown through Death’s Gate to Arianus. Limbeck, the Geg on Arianus, would have recognized the ship, for it was similar to the vessel he had discovered wrecked on one of the isles of Drevlin in Arianus.[15] The ship was perfectly round and had been wrought of metal and of magic. The outside hull was covered with sigla that wrapped the ship’s interior in a sphere of protective power. The ship’s hatch stood open, bright light streamed out. Bane saw a figure moving within.

“Grandfather!” the child shouted, and ran toward the ship. The Lord of the Nexus paused in whatever it was he was doing, glanced out the hatch. Bane couldn’t see the lord’s face, silhouetted against the bright light, but the child knew by the rigidity of the stance and the slight hunching of the shoulders that Xar was irritated at the interruption.

“I will be in presently, child,” Xar told him, going back to his duties, disappearing into the depths of the ship. “Return to your lessons—”

“Grandfather! I followed Haplo!” The child gasped for breath. “He was going to enter the Labyrinth, only he met a Sartan who talked him out of it.” Silence within the ship, all movement had ceased. Bane hung onto the doors of the hatch, sucking in great quantities of breath, excitement and lack of oxygen combining to make him light-headed. Xar came back, a figure of darkness against the bright interior light.

“What are you talking about, child?” Xar’s voice was gentle, soft. “Calm down. Don’t get yourself so worked up.”

The lord’s hand, callused, hard, stroked Bane’s golden curls, damp with sweat.

“I was... afraid you would leave... without hearing ...” Bane gulped air.

“No, no, child. I am making last-minute adjustments, seeing to the placement of the steering stone. Come, what is this about Haplo?” Xar’s voice was mild, but the eyes were hard and chill.

Bane wasn’t frightened by the cold. The ice was meant to burn another.

“I followed Haplo, just to see where he was going. I told you he didn’t love you, Grandfather. He wandered around the forest a long time, looking for someone. He kept talking to that dog of his about serpents. Then he went into the city. He almost got into a fight.” Bane’s eyes were round, awed.

“Haplo?” The lord sounded disbelieving.

“You can ask anyone. Everyone saw.” Bane was not above slight exaggeration. “A woman said he had some sort of sickness. She offered to help him, but he shoved her away and stalked off. I saw his face. It wasn’t nice.”

“Labyrinth sickness,” Xar said, his expression softened. “It happens to us all—”

Bane understood that he’d made a mistake in mentioning the sickness, given his enemy a way out. The child hastened to shut off that escape route.

“Haplo went to the Final Gate. I didn’t like that, Grandfather. What reason did he have to go there? You told him he was to take me to Arianus. He should have been back at his ship, getting it ready to go. Shouldn’t he?” Xar’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged. “He has time. The Final Gate draws many back to it. You would not understand, child—”

“He was going to go inside, Grandfather!” Bane insisted. “I know. And that would have been defying you, wouldn’t it? You don’t want him to go inside, do you? You want him to take me to Arianus.”

“How do you know he was going inside, child?” Xar asked, voice soft, tone dangerous.

“Because the Sartan told him he was. And Haplo didn’t say he wasn’t!” Bane said triumphantly.

“What Sartan? A Sartan in the Nexus?” Xar almost laughed. “You must have been dreaming. Or making this up. Are you making this up, Bane?” The lord said the last sternly, stared at Bane intently.

“I’m telling you the truth. Grandfather,” Bane averred solemnly. “A Sartan appeared out of nowhere. He was an old man with gray robes and an old, stupid-looking hat—”

“Was his name Alfred?” Xar interrupted, frowning.

“Oh, no! I know Alfred, remember, Grandfather? This wasn’t him. Haplo called this man ‘Zifnab.’ He said that Haplo was going into the Labyrinth to look for Alfred and Haplo agreed. At least he didn’t disagree. Then the old man told Haplo that going into the Labyrinth alone was a mistake, that Haplo would never reach Alfred alive. And Haplo said he had to reach Alfred alive, because he was going to take Alfred to the Chamber of the Damned on Abarrach and prove you wrong, Grandfather.”

“Prove me wrong,” Xar repeated.

“That’s what Haplo said.” Bane did not allow himself to be inconvenienced by the truth. “He was going to prove you wrong.”

Xar shook his head slowly. “You must have been mistaken, child. If Haplo had discovered a Sartan in the Nexus, he would have brought the enemy to me.”

“I would have brought the old man to you, Grandfather,” said Bane. “Haplo could have, but he didn’t.” No mention of the dragon. “He warned the Sartan to leave quickly, because you might be coming.”

Xar’s breath hissed through clenched teeth, the gnarled hand that had been stroking Bane’s curls jerked spasmodically, accidentally pulling the child’s hair. Bane winced from the pain, inwardly reveled in it. He guessed that Xar was hurting far worse than Bane himself and that Haplo would be the one to suffer for it.

Xar suddenly grasped hold of Bane’s hair, jerked his head back, forced the blue eyes to meet Xar’s black ones. The lord held the child in his daunting gaze long, searching, penetrating to the bottom of Bane’s soul—not a very far drop.

Bane looked back unblinking, unflinching in Xar’s rough grip. Xar knew Bane for what he was—a skilled and cunning liar—and Bane knew Xar knew. The child had floated enough truth on the surface to conceal the lies beneath. And, with that uncanny insight into adults gained from long and lonely hours when he had nothing to do except study them, Bane guessed that Xar would be too hurt by Haplo’s betrayal to probe deeper.

“I told you, Grandfather,” Bane said earnestly, “Haplo doesn’t love you. I’m the only one.”

The hand holding Bane went suddenly nerveless. Xar released the boy. The lord stared out into the twilight, his pain raw and visible in the ravaged face, in the sudden sagging of the shoulders, the limpness of the hand. Bane had not expected this, was displeased, jealous of Haplo’s ability to cause such pain.

Love breaks the heart.

Bane flung his arms around Xar’s legs, hugged him close.

“I hate him, Grandfather! I hate him for hurting you. He should be punished, shouldn’t he, Grandfather? You punished me, the time I lied to you. And Haplo’s done worse than that. You told me about the time you punished him before he went to Chelestra, how you could have killed him, but you didn’t, because you wanted him to learn from his punishment. You must do that again, Grandfather. Punish him like that again.”

Annoyed, Xar started to try to free himself from Bane’s clinging grasp, then stopped. Sighing, the lord again fondled the boy’s hair, stared out into the twilight. “I told you about that time, Bane, because I wanted you to understand the reason for your punishment and for his. I do not inflict pain wantonly. We learn from pain, that’s why our bodies feel it. But some, apparently, choose to ignore the lesson.”

“And so you’ll punish him again?” Bane peered upward.

“The time for punishment is past, child.”

Though Bane had been waiting for a year to hear those words, spoken in that tone, he couldn’t help but shudder.

“You’re going to kill him?” Bane whispered, overawed.

“No, child,” said the Lord of the Nexus, twisting the golden curls. “You are.” Haplo arrived back at the lord’s house. Entering, he crossed the living area, heading for Xar’s library.

“He’s gone,” said Bane, seated cross-legged on the floor, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands. He was studying Sartan runes.

“Gone.” Haplo stopped, stared at Bane, frowning, then looked back at the doorway leading to the library. “Are you sure?”

“See for yourself.” Bane shrugged.

Haplo did. He walked into the library, glanced around, then returned. “Where did Lord Xar go? To the Labyrinth?”

Bane held out a hand. “Here, dog. Here, boy.”

The dog pattered over, sniffed warily at the Sartan book of runes.

“Grandfather went to that world—the one made of stone. The one where the dead bodies walk.” Bane looked up, blue eyes large and glittering. “Will you tell me about that world? Grandfather said you might—”

“Abarrach?” Haplo asked in disbelief. “He’s gone already. Without—” The Patryn stalked out of the room. “Dog, stay,” he ordered as the animal started to follow.

Bane heard the man banging doors in the back part of the dwelling. Haplo was going outside to look for Xar’s ship. Bane grinned, wriggled in delight, then quickly sobered, continued to pretend to study his runes. The child cast a surreptitious glance beneath his long lashes at the dog, who had flopped down on its belly and was watching him with friendly interest.

“You’d like to be my dog, wouldn’t you?” Bane asked softly. “We’d play together all day and I’ll give you a name—”

Haplo returned, walking slowly. “I can’t believe he left. Without saying . . . anything to me.”

Bane looked at the runes, heard Xar’s voice.

It is clear to me that Haplo has betrayed me. He is in league with my enemies. I think it best that I do not meet him again, face to face. I am not certain I could control my anger.

“Grandfather had to leave in a hurry,” said Bane. “Something came up. New information.”

“What new information?”

Was it wishful thinking on Bane’s part, or did Haplo look guilt-ridden, uneasy? Bane buried his chin in his hands again, to keep his grin from showing.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, shrugging again. “It’s grown-up stuff. I didn’t pay any attention.”

I must allow Haplo to live awhile longer. An unfortunate necessity, but I need him and so do you, child. Don’t argue with me. Haplo is the only one among our people who has been to Arianus. This Geg, Limbeck, who is in control of the great machine, knows Haplo and trusts him You will need the dwarves’ trust, Bane, if you are to gain control of them, the Kicksey-winsey, and, eventually, the world.

“Grandfather said he gave you your orders already. You’re supposed to take me to Arianus—”

“I know,” Haplo interrupted impatiently. “I know.” Bane risked a glance. The man was not looking at the child, not paying him any attention. Haplo, dark, brooding, was staring at nothing.

Bane felt a twinge of alarm. What if Haplo refused to go? What if he’d made up his mind to enter the Labyrinth, search for Alfred? Xar had said Haplo wouldn’t, that Haplo would obey his command. But Xar himself had proclaimed Haplo a traitor.

Bane didn’t want to lose him. Haplo was his. The child decided to take action on his own. Jumping to his feet, eager and excited, Bane came over to stand in front of Haplo.

“I’m ready to go. Anytime you say. Won’t it be fun? To see Limbeck again. And the Kicksey-winsey. I know how to make it work. I’ve studied the Sartan runes. It will be glorious!” Bane waved his arms with calculated childish abandon.

“Grandfather says that the effects of the machine will be felt on all the worlds, now that Death’s Gate is open. He says that every structure the Sartan built will likely come alive. He says that he’ll feel the effects, even as far away as Abarrach.”

Bane watched Haplo closely, tried to guess what the man was thinking. It was difficult, practically impossible. The man’s face was impassive, expressionless; he might not have been listening. But he had been. Bane knew. Haplo hears everything, says little. That is what makes him good. That is what makes him dangerous.

And Bane had seen the man’s eyelids flicker, ever so slightly, when the child mentioned Abarrach. Was it the idea of the Kicksey-winsey affecting something on Abarrach that had caught the man’s interest? Or was it the reminder that, even on Abarrach, Xar would be aware of what his servant was—or was not—doing? Xar would know when the Kicksey-winsey came to life. And if it didn’t, he would start to wonder what had gone wrong.

Bane flung his arms around Haplo’s waist. “Grandfather said to give you his embrace. He said to tell you he trusted you, relied on you completely. He knows you won’t fail him. Or me.”

Haplo put his hands on Bane’s arms, pulled the boy loose as the man might have pulled loose a leech.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me,” Bane whimpered.

“Listen, kid,” said Haplo grimly, not relaxing his hold. “Let’s get one thing straight. I know you. Remember? I know you for the scheming, conniving, manipulative little bastard that you are. I’ll obey my lord’s command. I’ll take you to Arianus. I’ll see to it that you have a chance to do whatever it is you need to do to that damn machine. But don’t think you’re going to blind me with the light from your halo, kid, because I’ve seen that halo, close-up.”

“You don’t like me,” said Bane, crying a little. “No one likes me, except Grandfather. No one ever did like me.”

Haplo grunted, straightened. “Just so we understand each other. And another thing. I’m in charge. What I say goes. Got that?”

“I like you, Haplo,” said Bane, with a snivel.

The dog, feeling tenderhearted, came over and licked the child’s face. Bane threw his arm around the animal’s neck.

I’ll keep you, he promised the dog silently. When Haplo’s dead, you’ll be my dog. It will be fun.

“At least he likes me,” Bane said aloud, pouting. “Don’t you, boy?” The dog wagged its tail.

“The damn dog likes everyone,” Haplo muttered. “Even Sartan. Now go to your room, pack up your things. I’ll wait here until you’re ready.”

“Can the dog come with me?”

“If it wants. Go on, now. Hurry up. The sooner we get there, the sooner I’ll be back.”

Bane left the room with a show of quiet obedience. It was fun, playacting; fun to fool Haplo. Fun to pretend to obey a man whose life you hold in your small hands. Bane hugged to himself a conversation—almost the last conversation—he’d had with Xar.

When your task is completed, Bane, when the Kicksey-winsey is in operation and you have taken control of Ananus, Haplo will then become expendable. You will see to it that he is failed I believe you knew an assassin on Arianus Hugh the Hand, Grandfather. But he’s not alive anymore. My father killed him. There will be other assassins for hire. One thing is most important. One thing you must promise me to do. You must keep Haplo’s corpse preserved until my arrival.

You’re going to resurrect Haplo, Grandfather? Make him serve you after he’s dead, like they do with the dead men on Abarrach?

Yes, child. Only then will I be able to trust him.... Love breaks the heart.

“Come on, boy!” Bane cried, suddenly. “Race you!” He and the dog dashed madly for the child’s bedroom.