A shiver crawled over Samah’s body. The lord didn’t know what nerve he had hit, but he reveled in the discovery and kept probing.
“Our children rarely know their own parents. A kindness—one of the few we can do for them. That way they don’t become attached to their parents. It doesn’t hurt so much when they find them dead. Or watch them die.” Xar’s hatred and fury were slowly suffocating him. There wasn’t enough air in Abarrach to sustain him. Blood beat in his head, and the lord feared for an instant that his heart might rupture. He raised his head and howled, a savage scream of anguish and rage that was like the heart’s blood bursting from his mouth.
The howl was horrifying to hear. It reverberated through the catacombs, growing louder by some trick of the acoustics, and stronger, as if the dead in Abarrach had picked it up and were adding their own fearful cries to those of the Lord of the Nexus.
Marit blanched and gasped and shrank in terror against the chill wall of the prison. Sang-drax himself appeared taken aback. The red eye shifted uneasily, darting swift glances into the shadows, as if seeking some foe. Samah shuddered. The scream might have been a spear driven through his body. He closed his eyes.
“I wish I didn’t need you!” Xar gasped. Foam frothed his mouth; spittle hung from his lips. “I wish I didn’t need the information you have locked in that black heart. I would take you to the Labyrinth. I would let you hold the dying children, as I have held them. I would let you whisper to them, as I have whispered: ‘All will be well. Soon the fear will end.’ And I would let you feel the envy, Samah! The envy when you gaze down upon that cold, peaceful face and know that, for this little child, the fear is over. While for you, it has just begun...”
Xar was calm now. His fury was spent. He felt a great weariness, as if he had spent hours fighting a powerful foe. The lord actually staggered as he took a step, was forced to lean against the stone wall of the prison cell.
“But unfortunately, I do need you, Samah. I need you to answer a... question.” Xar wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe, wiped the chill sweat from his face. He smiled, a mirthless, bloodless smile, “I hope, I sincerely hope, Samah, Head of the Council of Seven, that you choose not to answer!” Samah lifted his head. The eyes were sunken, the skin livid. He looked truly as if he were impaled on his enemy’s spear. “I do not blame you for your hatred. We never meant...” He was forced to pause, lick dry lips. “We never meant any of the suffering. We never meant for the prison to turn deadly. It was to be a test... Don’t you understand?”
Samah gazed at Xar in earnest appeal. “A test. That was all. A difficult test. One meant to teach you humility, patience. One meant to diminish your aggression...”
“Weaken us,” Xar said softly.
“Yes,” said Samah, slowly lowering his head. “Weaken you.”
“You feared us.”
“We feared you.”
“You hoped we would die...”
“No.” Samah shook his head.
“The Labyrinth became the embodiment of that hope. A secret hope. A hope you dared not admit, even to yourselves. But it was whispered into the words of magic that created the Labyrinth. And it was that secret, terrible hope that gave the Labyrinth its evil power.”
Samah did not answer. He sat again with his head bowed.
Xar shoved himself away from the wall. Coming to stand in front of Samah, the lord put his hand beneath the Sartan’s jaw, wrenched his head up and back, forced Samah to look up.
Samah flinched. He wrapped his hands around the old man’s wrists, tried to free himself from the lord’s grasp. But Xar was powerful. His magic was intact. The blue runes flared. Samah gasped in agony, snatched his hands away as if he had touched burning cinders.
Xar’s thin fingers bit deeply and painfully into the Sartan’s jaw.
“Where is the Seventh Gate?”
Samah stared, shocked, and Xar was pleased to see—at last—fear in the Sartan’s eyes.
“Where is the Seventh Gate?” He squeezed Samah’s face.
“I don’t know... what you’re talking about,” Samah was forced to mumble.
“I’m so glad,” Xar said pleasantly. “For now I will have the pleasure of teaching you. And you will tell me.”
Samah managed to shake his head. “I’ll die first!” he gasped.
“Yes, you probably will,” Xar agreed. “And then you’ll tell me. Your corpse will tell me. I’ve learned the art, you see. The art you came here to learn. I’ll teach you that, too. Though it will be rather late to do you much good.” Xar released his hold, wiped his hands on his robes. He didn’t like the feel of the sea water, could already notice it starting to weaken the rune-magic. Turning tiredly, he walked out of the cell. The iron bars sprang back into place as he passed by.
“My only regret is that I lack the strength to instruct you myself. But one waits who, like me, also wants revenge. You know him, I believe. He was instrumental in your capture.”
Samah was on his feet. His hands clasped the bars of the cell. “I was wrong! My people were wrong! I admit it. I can offer no excuse, except that maybe we do know what it is like to live in fear. I see it now. Alfred, Orla... Orla.” Samah closed his eyes in pain, drew a deep breath. “Orla was right.” Opening his eyes, gazing intently at Xar, Samah shook the bars of his cell.
“But we have a common enemy. An enemy who will destroy us all. Destroy both our peoples, destroy the mensch!”
“And that enemy would be?” Xar was toying with his victim.
“The dragon-snakes! Or whatever form they take. And they can take any form they choose, Xar. That is what makes them so dangerous, so powerful. That Sang-drax. The one who captured me. He is one of them.”
“Yes, I know,” said Xar. “He has been very useful.”
“You are the one being used!” Samah cried in frustration. He paused, trying desperately to think of some way to prove his point. “Surely one of your own would have warned you. That Patryn, the young man. The one who came to Chelestra. He discovered the truth about the dragon-snakes. He tried to warn me. I didn’t listen. I didn’t believe. I opened Death’s Gate. He and Alfred... Haplo! That’s the name he called himself. Haplo.”
“What do you know of Haplo?” Xar asked in a low voice.
“He learned the truth,” Samah said grimly. “He tried to make me see it. Surely, he must have told it to you, his lord.”
“So this is the thanks I get, is it, Haplo?” Xar asked the dark shadows. This is gratitude for saving your life, my son. Betrayal.
“Your plot failed, Samah,” Xar said coolly. “Your attempt to subvert my faithful servant failed. Haplo told me everything. He admitted everything. If you’re going to speak, Sartan, speak to some purpose. Where is the Seventh Gate?”
“Haplo obviously didn’t tell you everything,” Samah said, lip curling.
“Otherwise you would know the answer to your question. He was there. He and Alfred, at least so I gathered from something Alfred said. Apparently your Haplo trusts you no more than my Alfred trusts me. I wonder where we went wrong...”
Xar was stung, though he took care not to show it. Haplo again! Haplo knows. And I don’t! It was maddening.
“The Seventh Gate,” Xar repeated as if he hadn’t heard.
“You’re a fool,” Samah said tiredly. Letting loose of the bars, he lapsed back on the stone bench. “You’re a fool. As I was a fool. You doom your people.” He sighed. His head sank into his hands. “As I have doomed mine.” Xar made a sharp, beckoning gesture. Sang-drax hastened down the dank and gloomy corridor.
The lord was having a difficult time. He wanted Samah to suffer, of course, but he also wanted Samah dead. Xar’s fingers twitched. He was already drawing, in his own mind, the runes of necromancy that would begin the terrible resurrection.
Sang-drax entered the Sartan’s cell. Samah did not look up, though Xar saw the Sartan’s body stiffen involuntarily, bracing to endure what was coming. What was coming? Xar wondered. What would the dragon-snake do? Curiosity made the lord forget momentarily his eagerness to see it all end.