Xar had told Marit about the dog. She had found it difficult to believe that any Patryn could indulge in such a weakness. She had not doubted her lord’s word, of course, but she considered that he might have been mistaken. Marit knew now he had not been. She watched Haplo stroke the animal’s smooth head, and her lip curled in a sneer.
Her attention shifted from Haplo and his dog to the mensch and their conversation. A dwarf, a human, and an elf stood together beneath the statue of the Sartan. Marit dared not cast any magic that would bring their words to her, and so she had to go nearer them.
She did so, moving noiselessly, keeping to the opposite side of the statue. Her main fear was being discovered by the dog, but it appeared to be totally absorbed in and concerned for its master. Its liquid eyes were fixed on him anxiously, and it would occasionally put a paw on his knee, offering a touch of comfort.
“And you are feeling quite well now, Your Majesty?” The elf was speaking to the human.
“Yes, thank you, Prince Rees’ahn.” The human, a king of some sort, grimaced, put his hand to his back. “The wound was deep, but fortunately hit nothing vital. I have some stiffness that will be with me the rest of my life, according to Trian, but at least I’m alive, for which I thank the ancestors—and the Lady Iridal.” The king looked grim, shook his head. The dwarf was staring up at each tall mensch in turn, peering at them through squinted eyes, as if he were extremely nearsighted. “A child attacked you, you say? That boy we had down here—Bane? Pardon me, King Stephen.” The dwarf blinked rapidly. “But is this normal behavior among human children?” The human king looked somewhat put out at this question.
“He doesn’t mean any offense, Sire,” Haplo explained, with his quiet smile.
“Limbeck—the High Froman—is only curious.”
“Why, yes,” said Limbeck, his eyes round. “I didn’t mean to imply—Not that it would matter, mind you. It’s just that I was wondering if maybe all human—”
“No,” said Haplo shortly. “They don’t.”
“Ah.” Limbeck stroked his beard. “I’m sorry,” he added somewhat nervously.
“That is, I don’t mean I’m sorry that all human children aren’t murderers. I mean I’m sorry I—”
“That’s quite all right,” said King Stephen stiffly, but with a smile lurking about the corners of his lips. “I understand completely, High Froman. And, I must admit that Bane was not a very good representative of our race. Neither was his father, Sinistrad.”
“No.” Limbeck appeared subdued. “I remember him.”
“A tragic situation all around,” said Prince Rees’ahn, “but at least good has come out of evil. Thanks to our friend Haplo”—the elf placed a slender hand on Haplo’s shoulder—“and that human assassin.”
Marit was shocked, disgusted. A mensch behaving in such a familiar manner, treating a Patryn as if they were equals. And Haplo permitting it!
“What was that assassin’s name, Stephen?”[1] Rees’ahn was continuing.
“Something odd, even for humans—”
“Hugh the Hand.” Stephen spoke with distaste.
Rees’ahn kept touching Haplo’s shoulder; elves were fond of touching, hugging. Haplo appeared uncomfortable at the mensch’s caress; Marit gave him credit for that. He managed to evade it politely by rising to his feet, sliding out from under.
“I was hoping to talk to Hugh the Hand,” Haplo said. “You don’t happen to know where he is, Your Majesty?”
Stephen’s face darkened. “I do not. And frankly I don’t want to know. And neither should you, sir. The assassin told the wizard he had another ‘contract’ to fulfill. It is Trian’s belief,” Stephen added, turning to Rees’ahn, “that this Hugh the Hand is a member of the Brotherhood.” Rees’ahn frowned. “A nefarious organization. We should make it one of our top priorities, when peace is established, to wipe out that nest of vipers. You, sir.” He turned to Haplo. “Perhaps you could assist us in this undertaking. I understand from our friend, the High Froman here, that your magic is quite powerful.”
So Haplo had revealed his magical powers to the mensch. And from the way it looked, the mensch were all quite taken with him. Revered him. As they should, of course, Marit was quick to allow—but they should be revering him as the servant of the master, not the master. And now was the perfect opportunity for Haplo to inform them of Xar’s coming. The Lord of the Nexus would rid the world of this Brotherhood, whatever it might be.
But Haplo was only shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. In any case, I think my powers might have been overrated.” He smiled down at Limbeck.
“Our friend here is a little nearsighted.”
“I saw it all,” Limbeck insisted stubbornly. “I saw you battle that evil dragon-snake. You and Jarre. She whumped it with her ax.” The dwarf swung vigorously through the motions. “Then you jabbed it with your sword. Wham! Stabbed it in the eye. Blood all over the place. I saw it, King Stephen,” reiterated Limbeck.
Unfortunately, he addressed Queen Anne, who had come up to stand beside her husband.
A female dwarf jabbed the male dwarf in the ribs.
“That’s the king, Limbeck, you druz,” she said, grabbing hold of Limbeck’s beard and tugging on him until he faced the right direction. Limbeck was not in the least upset over the mistake. “Thank you, Jarre, my dear,” he said, smiling, and blinked benignly at the dog. The mensch’s talk turned to other matters, to the war on Arianus. A combined force of humans and elves was attacking the island of Aristagon, battling an emperor and his followers who had taken refuge in a palace there. Marit wasn’t interested in the doings of the mensch. She was far more interested in Haplo. He had gone suddenly gray; his own smile had slipped. His hand went to his heart, as if his wound still pained him. He leaned back against the statue to mask his weakness. The dog, whining, crept to his side and pressed against Haplo’s leg.
Marit knew then that Sang-drax had been telling the truth—Haplo had been critically wounded. Privately she had doubted it. She knew and respected Haplo’s ability; she had little use for the dragon-snake, who, as far as she could tell, possessed minimal magical powers, perhaps in the same category as mensch. Certainly none as strong as Patryn magic. She could not see how such a creature could have inflicted a dire wound on Haplo. But she had no doubts now. She recognized the symptoms of a heart-rune injury, a blow that would strike to the core of a Patryn’s being. Difficult to heal—alone. The mensch continued to talk, about how they would start up the Kicksey-winsey, what would happen when they did. Haplo stood silent through their conversation, stroking the dog’s smooth head. Marit, not understanding the discussion, only half-listened. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Suddenly Haplo stirred and spoke, interrupting an involved explanation of whirley-gears and whump-rotors from the dwarf.
“Have you warned your people to take precautions?” Haplo was asking.
“According to what the Sartan wrote, the continents will begin to move once the Kicksey-winsey is activated. They’ll move slowly, but they will move. Buildings could fall down. People might die of fright if they don’t know what is going on.”
“We’ve informed them,” Stephen said. “I’ve sent the King’s Own to every part of our lands, carrying the news. Though whether the people will listen is another matter. Half of them don’t believe us, and the half who do have been told by the barons that it’s some sort of elven plot. There’ve been rioting and threats to depose me. And what will happen if this doesn’t work...” The king’s face darkened. “Well, I don’t like to think about that.” Haplo shook his head, looked grave. “I can’t promise anything, Your Majesty. The Sartan intended to align the continents within a few years of their settling here. They planned to do so before the continents were even inhabited. But when their plans went wrong and they disappeared, the Kicksey-winsey kept on working and building and repairing itself—but without any guidance. Who knows but that during this time it may have done some irreparable damage to itself?
1
A game played on Abarrach, similar to an ancient game known on Earth as mah-jongg. The playing pieces are inscribed with the sigla used by both Patryns and Sartan to work their magic.