“What happened at the end of the story,” he thought to ask, guiding the ship in for a landing.
“The tytan found the castle, came back, and bit off the children’s heads,” answered Roland.
“You know,” said Rega, softly, “when I was little and I heard that story, I always felt sorry for the tytan. I always thought the children deserved such a horrible fate. But now—” She shook her head, tears slid down her cheeks.
“We’re nearing Equilan,” said Paithan, leaning forward gingerly to look out the window. “I can see Lake Enthial. At least I think that’s it, shining in the distance? The water looks odd, seen from above.”
“That’s it,” said Haplo without interest, his thoughts on something else.
“I didn’t catch your name,” said the elf. “What is it?”
“Haplo.”
“What does it mean?”
The Patryn ignored him.
“Single,” said the old man.
Haplo frowned, cast him an irritated glance. How the devil did he know that?
“I’m sorry,” said Paithan, ever courteous. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He paused a moment, then continued hesitantly. “I… uh, that is Zifnab said … you were a savior. He said you could take … people to the … uh … stars. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think it would be possible. Doom and destruction. He said I’d bring it back with me. Om help me, I am!” He gazed a moment out the window, to the land below. “What I want to know is … can you do it? Will you do it? Can you save us from … those monsters?”
“He can’t save all of you,” said Zifnab sadly, twisting his battered hat in his hands, finishing it off totally. “He can only save some. The best and the brightest.”
Haplo glanced around, saw eyes—slanted elf eyes, the human woman’s wide dark eyes, the human male’s bright blue eyes, even the dwarf’s black, shadowed eyes, Zifnab’s crazed, shrewd eyes. All of them staring at him, waiting, hoping.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered.
Why not? Anything to keep peace, keep people happy. Happy and ignorant. In point of fact, Haplo had no intention of saving anyone except himself. But there was one thing he had to do first. He had to talk to a tytan. And these people were going to be his bait. After all, the children had asked for exactly what they got.
28
“So,” said Calandra, looking from Paithan to Rega, standing before her on the porch, “I might have known.”
The elf woman started to slam the front door. Paithan interposed his body, preventing the door from shutting, and forced his way inside the house. Calandra backed up a pace, holding herself tall and straight, her hands clasped, level with her cinched-in waist. She regarded her brother with cold disdain.
“I see you have adopted their ways already. Barbarian! Forcing your way into my home!”[29]
“Excuse me,” began Zifnab, thrusting in his head, “but it’s very important that I—”
“Calandra!” Paithan reached out to his sister, grasped hold of her chill hands. “Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter anymore? Doom is coming, like the old man said! I’ve seen it, Callie!” The woman attempted to pull away. Paithan held onto her, his grip tightening with the intensity of his fear.
“The dwarven realm is destroyed! The human realm dying, perhaps dead, right now! These three”—he cast a wild-eyed glance at the dwarf and the two humans standing, ill-at-ease and uncomfortable, in the doorway—“are perhaps the only ones left of their races! Thousands have been slaughtered! And it’s coming down on us next, Callie! It’s coming on us!”
“If I could add to that—” Zifnab raised a forefinger. Calandra snatched her hands away and smoothed the front of her skirt. “You’re certainly dirty enough,” she remarked, sniffing. “You’ve gone and tracked filth all over the carpet. Go to the kitchen and wash up. Leave your clothes down there. I’ll have them burned. I’ll have clean ones sent to your room. Then sit down and have your dinner. Your friends”—sneering, she cast a scathing glance at the group in the doorway—“can sleep in the slave quarters. That goes for the old man. I moved his things out last night.” Zifnab beamed at her, bowed his head modestly. “Thank you for going to the trouble, my dear, but that really wasn’t neces—”
“Humpf!” Turning on her heel, the elf woman headed for the stairway.
“Calandra, damn it!” Paithan grabbed his sister’s elbow and spun her around. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“How dare you speak to me in that tone!” Calandra’s eyes were colder and darker than the depths of the dwarven underground. “You will behave in a civilized manner in this house, Paithan Quindiniar, or you can join your barbaric companions and bed with the slaves.” Her lip curled, her gaze went to Rega. “Something you must be used to! As for your threats, the queen received news of the invasion some time ago. If it is true—which I doubt, since the news came from humans—then we are prepared. The royal guard is on alert, the shadowguard is standing by if they are needed. We’ve supplied them with the latest in weaponry. I must say,” she addled grudgingly, “that all this nonsense has, at least, been good for business.”
“The market opened bullish,” offered Zifnab to no one in particular. “Since then, the Dow’s been steadily dropping—”
Paithan opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Homecoming was like a dream to him, like falling asleep after grappling with terrible reality. Not longer than the turning of a few petals, he had been facing a gruesome death at the rending hands of the tytans. He had experienced unnameable horrors, had seen dreadful sights that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He had changed, sloughed off the carefree, indolent skin that had covered him. What had emerged was not as pretty, but it was tougher, resilient, and—he hoped—more wise. It was a reverse metamorphosis, a butterfly transformed into a grub.
But nothing here had changed. The royal guard on alert! The shadowguard standing by, if they are needed! He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t comprehend it. He had expected to find his people in turmoil, sounding alarms, rushing hither and thither. Instead, all was peaceful, calm, serene. Unchanged. Status quo.
The peace, the serenity, the silence was awful. A scream welled up inside him. He wanted to shriek and ring the wooden bells, he wanted to grab people and shake them and shout, “Don’t you know! Don’t you know what’s coming! Death!
Death is coming!” But the wall of calm was too thick to penetrate, too high to climb. He could only stare, stammering in tongue-tied confusion that his sister mistook for shame.
Slowly, he fell silent, slowly loosened his grip on Calandra’s arm. His elder sister, without a glance at any of them, marched stiffly out of the room.
Somehow I’ve got to warn them, he thought confusedly, somehow make them understand.
“Paithan …”
“Aleatha!” Paithan turned, relieved to find someone who would listen to reason. He held out his hand—
Aleatha slapped him across the face.
“Thea!” He put his hand over his stinging cheek. His sister’s face was livid, her eyes feverish, the pupils dilated. “How dare you? How dare you repeat these wicked human lies!” She pointed at Roland.
“Take this vermin and get out! Get out!”
“Ah! Charmed to see you again, my—” began Zifnab. Roland couldn’t hear what was being said but the hatred in the blue eyes staring at him spoke for her. He raised his hands in apology. “Listen, lady, I don’t know what you’re saying, but—”
29
The elves are a matriarchal society; by elven law, land holdings, residence, and household goods pass from mother to eldest daughter. Businesses remain in the hands of the elven males. The house, therefore, belongs to Calandra. All the Quindiniars—including Lenthan, her father—live there by her sufferance. Elves have great respect for their elders, however, and therefore Calandra would politely term the house “her father’s.”