Serpent Mage (50 page)

Grundle fondly imagined she was emulating Devon, and she did manage to move quietly—for a dwarf. Her thick boots clumped, her breath came in wheezing huffs, and she only spoke when she should have kept quiet half-a-dozen times.

Alake could move nearly as softly as the elf, but she had forgotten, in the excitement of the moment, to take off her ear-jangles and her beads. One of her magic spells required a small silver bell, wrapped in a pouch. Alake slipped once, the bell gave out a small, muffled ring.

The three froze, holding their breaths, certain Haplo must have heard them. The only fear that the no-fear weed had not been able to dispel was the fear that the Patryn would catch them and send them home.

Haplo kept walking. He obviously hadn't heard. The three breathed a sigh of relief and continued on.

That the dragon-snakes might have heard them was a thought that never crossed their minds.

Haplo came to a dead standstill outside the cavern. He'd only experienced terror like this once before, standing with his lord outside the Gate of the Labyrinth. His lord had been able to enter.

Haplo had not.

“Enter, Patryn,” hissed a voice from the darkness. “Have no fear. We bow before you.”

Sigla flared red and blue on Haplo's skin, its light illuminating the darkness beyond. Comforted more by the sight of the power of his magic than by the serpent's assurance, Haplo walked to the cavern's opening.

Looking in, he saw them.

The light of his runes reflected off the dragon-snakes' shining scales. Their bodies were draped over each other in a hideous, tangled coil, making it impossible to tell where one left off and the other began.

It seemed that most were asleep, for their eyes were closed. Haplo moved silently as a Patryn learns to move in the Labyrinth, but he had barely set foot in the cavern when two of the slit red eyes opened, fixed their red-green gaze upon him.

“Patryn,” the king snake said. “Master. You honor us with your presence. Please, come closer.”

Haplo did as the serpent requested, the sigla on his skin itching and burning, nearly driving him wild. He scratched the back of his hand. The reptile's giant head loomed over him; its body remained resting comfortably on the back of one of its neighbors.

“How did the meeting go between the mensch and the Sartan?” the dragon-snake asked, blinking its eyes lazily.

“As well as you might expect,” Haplo said shortly. He intended to explain his plan, give the snakes their orders, then depart. He loathed these creatures. “The Sartan—”

“Pardon me,” the serpent interrupted, “but could we speak human? We find that conversing in your language wearies us. Admittedly the human language is crude and awkward, but it does have its moments. If you don't mind….”

Haplo did mind. He didn't like it, wondered what was behind this sudden change. They'd spoken his language well enough the first time they'd met, spoken it at length. He considered refusing, just to assert his own authority, decided that was pointless. What did it matter what language they talked? He didn't want to draw this out any longer than necessary.

“Very well,” he said, and continued to explain his plans, speaking the human tongue.

The three mensch watched Haplo enter the cave. His skin was a bright, flaring blue.

“That must be where the snakes live,” exclaimed Grundle.

“Hush!” Devon clapped his hand over her mouth.

“We can't go in after him,” Alake whispered, worried.

“Maybe there's a back entrance.”

The three circled around the side of the mountain. They poked and prodded among huge, fallen boulders. Walking was treacherous. The ground was wet and slick with a dark liquid that oozed out of the rocks. They stumbled and fell, Grundle cursed beneath her breath.

The mountainside was covered with huge gouges. “As if something had taken large bites out of it,” Alake said. But none of these gouges led them inside the cavern.

Growing discouraged, they were about to give up when, suddenly, they found exactly what they'd hoped to find.

A small tunnel opened directly into the side of the mountain. The three crept in, examined it. The cave was dry, the way smooth and easy to travel.

“I hear voices!” Grundle said excitedly. “It's Haplo!”

She listened closely, her eyes grew wide. “And I can
understand what he's saying. I've learned to speak his language!”

“That's because he's speaking human,” said Alake.

Devon hid his smile. “At least now we'll know what they're saying. I wonder if we can get any closer.”

“Let's follow this,” said Grundle, pointing. “It seems to be heading the right way.”

The three entered the tunnel which, by the most remarkable chance, appeared to lead them exactly the direction they wanted to go. They hurried along it eagerly. Haplo's voice became louder and clearer to them each moment, as did the voices of the dragon-snakes. The sides of the tunnel gave off a lovely, phosphorescent glow, lighting their way.

“You know,” said Alake, pleased, “it's almost as if this had been constructed exactly for us.”

“So this means war,” the dragon-snake said.

“Did you have any doubts, Royal One?” Haplo gave a brief laugh.

“Some, I must admit. The Sartan are unpredictable. There
are
those of their race who are truly selfless, who would welcome the mensch with arms outstretched, would take them into their own dwellings, even though it meant they went without a roof above their heads.”

“Samah isn't one of those,” said Haplo.

“No, we never supposed he was.”

The dragon-snake seemed to smile, though how it was possible for the reptilian face to alter expression was beyond Haplo.

“And when will the mensch attack?” the dragon-snake pursued.

“That's what I came to talk to you about, Royal One. I want to make a suggestion. I know this doesn't go along with the plan we originally discussed, but I think this will work out better. All we have to do—to defeat the Sartan— is flood their city with seawater.”

Haplo explained, in much the same terms as he had explained it to the mensch. “The seawater will nullify their magic, leave them easy prey for the mensch….”

“Who can then go in and slaughter them indiscriminately. We approved The dragon-snake nodded its head lazily.

Several of its neighbors opened their eyes, blinked in sleepy agreement.

“The mensch won't slaughter anyone. I was thinking more in terms of surrender—total and unconditional. And I don't want the Sartan to die. I intend to take Samah and maybe a few more back to my lord for questioning. It would be helpful if they were alive enough to answer,” the Patryn concluded wryly.

The slit eyes narrowed dangerously. Haplo tensed, wary.

The serpent sounded almost jocular, however. “And what would the mensch do with the sodden Sartan?”

“By the time the water drains away and the Sartan have dried out, the mensch will have moved onto Surunan. The Sartan will have a tough time evicting several thousand or so humans, elves, and dwarves who have already set up housekeeping. And then, of course, the mensch, with your assistance, Royal One, could always threaten to open the seagates and flood the city again.”

“We would be curious to know why you formulated such a plan, in opposition to our own. What did you find wrong with forcing the mensch into open warfare?”

The hissing voice was cold, its tone lethal. Haplo couldn't understand. What was wrong?

“These mensch can't fight,” he explained. “They haven't fought a war in who knows how long? Oh, the humans skirmish among themselves, but hardly anyone gets hurt. The Sartan, even without their magic, could inflict serious casualties. I think my way is better, easier. That's all.”

The dragon-snake lifted its head slightly, slid its body down off its reptile pillow, and slithered across the cavern floor toward Haplo. He stood his ground, kept his gaze fixed firmly on the slit red eyes. Instinct told him that to give in to his fear, to turn and run, would mean his death. His only chance was to face this out, try to discover whatever it was the serpents were truly after.

The flat, toothless head halted an arm's length from him.

“Since when,” asked the dragon-snake, “does a Patryn care how mensch live … or how they die?”

A shudder went through Haplo, starting at the core of his being, twisting his insides. He opened his mouth, was about to make some reply.

“Wait!” the dragon-snake hissed. “What have we here?”

A form began to coalesce out of the dank cavern air. It shimmered and shifted, faded in, faded out again, wavering either in its magic or in its decision or perhaps some of both.

The dragon-snake watched with interest, though Haplo noted it slid back, moved nearer the knot of its fellows.

The Patryn saw enough of the wavering figure to know who it was—the one person he didn't need. What the devil was he doing here? Perhaps it's a trick. Perhaps Samah sent him.

Alfred stepped out of thin air. He glanced around vaguely, eyes blinking in the darkness, and immediately spotted Haplo.

“I'm so glad I found you!” Alfred sighed in relief. “You can't imagine how difficult that spell is—”

“What do you want?” Haplo demanded, tense, on edge.

“I'm returning your dog,” said Alfred cheerfully, with a wave of his hand at the animal materializing in the air behind him.

“If I'd wanted the beast, which I don't, I would have come for it myself—”

The dog, being somewhat quicker on the uptake than Alfred, caught sight of the dragon-snakes. It began to bark in wild, frantic alarm.

Alfred realized, apparently for the first time, where his magic had taken him. The dragon-snakes were now all wide awake. Bodies writhing, they loosed themselves from their tangled knot with slippery speed.

“Oh … m-m-my gracious,” stammered Alfred, and dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

The king dragon-snake's head darted toward the dog.

Haplo leapt over the comatose body of the Sartan, caught hold of the animal by the scruff of its neck.

“Dog, quiet!” he commanded.

The dog whined, looked at Haplo plaintively, as if uncertain of its welcome. The dragon-snake pulled back.

The Patryn jerked a thumb in Alfred's direction. “Go to him. Keep an eye on your friend.”

The dog obeyed, first casting a threatening glance at the dragon-snakes, warning them to keep their distance. Padding over to Alfred, the animal began to lick the Sartan's face.

“Does that annoying creature belong to you?” asked the dragon-snake.

“It used to, Royal One,” Haplo stated. “But now it's his.”

“Indeed.” The serpent's slit eyes flared, quickly cooled. “It still seems attached to you.”

“Forget the damn dog!” Haplo snarled, patience wearing thin, rubbed by his fear. “We were discussing my plan. Will you—”

“We discuss nothing in the presence of the Sartan,” interrupted the dragon-snake.

“You mean Alfred? But he's out cold!”

“He is very dangerous,” hissed the dragon-snake.

“Yeah,” said Haplo, looking at the Sartan, lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

The dog was licking Alfred's bald head.

“And he seems to know you quite well.”

Haplo's skin prickled with danger. Damn and blast that fool Sartan anyway! I should have killed him when I had the chance. I will kill him, my very next opportunity …

“Kill him now,” said the dragon-snake.

Haplo tensed, stared grimly at the creatures. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he may have been sent to spy on me. And if he was, I want to know why, who sent him, what he planned to do. You should want to know, too, since you think he's so dangerous.”

“It matters little to us. And he
is
dangerous, but we can take care of ourselves. He is a danger to you, Patryn. He is the Serpent Mage. Do not let him live! Kill him … now.”

“You call me 'master,'” said Haplo coolly. “And yet you're giving me orders. Only one man, my lord, has such power over me. Someday perhaps, I will kill the Sartan, but
that day will come in my own time, at my own choosing.”

The red-green flame in the serpent's eyes was almost blinding. Haplo's own eyes burned and stung. He fought the impulse to blink. If once he looked away, he had the feeling he would see nothing but his own death.

Then suddenly it was dark. The dragon-snake's eyelids closed over the flame.

“We are concerned solely for your own well-being, Master. Of course, you know best. Perhaps, as you suggest, it would be wise to question him. You may do so now.”

“He won't talk if you're around. In fact, he won't regain consciousness if you're around,” Haplo added. “If you don't mind, Royal One, I'll just take him out….”

Moving slowly, purposefully, keeping an eye on the dragon-snake, Haplo took hold of Alfred's flaccid arms and hefted the man, who was no lightweight. Haplo positioned the Sartan's limp body on his shoulder.

“I'll carry him to my boat. If I find out anything from him, I'll let you know.”

The dragon-snake's head weaved back and forth slowly, sinuously.

Debating whether or not to let me go, Haplo thought. He wondered what he'd do if the snake refused, ordered him to stay. He supposed he could throw Alfred to them.…

The snake's eyes closed, flared open. “Very well. In the meantime, we will confer on your plan.”

“Take all the time you need,” Haplo grunted. He had no intention of coming back. He started out the cave.

“Pardon me, Patryn,” said the dragon-snake, “but you seem to have forgotten your dog.”

Haplo hadn't forgotten. That had been his plan. Leave the animal behind, let it act as his ears for him. He glanced back at the dragon-snakes.

They knew.

“Dog, come here.”

Haplo clasped his arm around Alfred's legs. The Sartan dangled down the Patryn's back, arms flopping like some ungainly, grotesque doll. The dog trotted along after them, now and then giving the Sartan's hand a comforting lick.

Once outside the cave, Haplo sighed deeply, wiped his forehead with his hand. He was unnerved to find himself shaking.

Devon, Alake, and Grundle arrived at the tunnel's outlet in time to see Alfred stumble out of the air. Crouching prudently in the shadows, concealed behind several large boulders, the three watched and listened.