“I think he is serious... He has certainly never mentioned...”
“Of course he wouldn’t.” Xar dismissed her admittedly weak arguments. “Haplo is cunning and clever. But he will not succeed. Go with him, Daughter. Stay with him. Fight to stay alive. And do not fear. Your time there will not be long. Sang-drax is on his way to the Labyrinth. Through me, he will find you and Haplo. Sang-drax will bring Haplo to me.” Since you have failed. Marit heard the rebuke. She accepted it in silence, knowing she deserved it. But the image of the horrid dragon-snakes she’d glimpsed on Chelestra rose hideously in her mind. Firmly she banished the vision. Xar was asking other questions.
“Haplo and the Sartan. What did they talk about? Tell me everything they have said.”
“They spoke of Hugh the Hand, how the Sartan might be able to lift the curse of immortal life from the human. They talked of Abarrach and a chamber there. It is called the Chamber of the Damned—”
“Again that wretched chamber.” Xar was angry. “Haplo talks of nothing else! He is obsessed with it! He once wanted to take me to it. I—” A pause.
A long, long pause.
“I... have been a fool. He would have taken me,” Xar murmured. His words were soft, brushing across her forehead like the wings of a butterfly. “What did he say about this chamber? Did he or the Sartan mention something called the Seventh Gate?”
“Yes, Lord.” Marit was astounded, awed. “How did you know?”
“A fool, a blind fool!” he repeated bitterly, and then he was urgent, compelling. “What did they say about it?”
Marit related all she could remember.
“Yes, that is it! A room imbued with magic! Power! What can be created can be destroyed!”
Marit could feel Xar’s excitement; it quivered through her like an electric jolt.
“Did they say where it was on Abarrach? How to reach it?”
“No, Lord.” She was forced to disappoint him.
“Speak to him about this chamber further! Find out all you can! Where it is! How to enter!” He grew calmer. “But don’t rouse his suspicions, Daughter. Be circumspect, cautious. Of course, that is how they plan to defeat me. Haplo must never come to suspect—”
“Suspect what, Lord?”
“Suspect that I know about this chamber. Keep in contact with me, Daughter... Or perhaps I should say Wife.”
He was pleased with her again. Marit had no idea why, but he was her lord and his commands were to be obeyed without question. And she would be glad to have his counsel when they were in the Labyrinth. But his next statement proved troubling.
“I will let Sang-drax know where you are.”
That brought no comfort to her, though she knew it should. Only unease.
“Yes, Lord.”
“Of course, I do not need to tell you—mention none of what we have discussed to Haplo.”
“No, Lord.”
He was gone. Marit was alone. Very much alone. That was what she wanted, what she’d chosen. He travels fastest who travels alone. And she’d traveled fast, very fast indeed.
All the way back to where she’d started.
The four (and the dog) stood at the entrance to the cavern, the entrance to the Labyrinth. The gray light had grown not brighter, but stronger. Haplo judged it must be midday. If they were going, they should go now. No time was a good time to travel in the Labyrinth, but any time during the daylight was better than at night.
Marit had rejoined them. Her face was pale but set, her jaw clenched. “I will go with you,” was all she’d said, and she’d said that much sullenly, with reluctance.
Haplo wondered why she’d decided to come. But he knew asking would do no good. Marit would never tell him, and his asking would only alienate him from her further. She had been like this when they’d first met. Walled up inside herself. He had managed, with patience and care, to find a door—only a small one, but it had permitted him inside. And then it had slammed shut. The child—he knew now that was why she’d left him and he thought he understood. Rue, she’d named the baby.
And now the door was closed and shuttered, walled up. There was no way in. And from what he could tell, she’d sealed the only way out.
Haplo glanced up at the Sartan sigil shining above the archway. He was entering the Labyrinth, the deadliest place in existence, without any weapons—except for his magic. But that, at least, wasn’t a problem. In the Labyrinth, there were always plenty of ways to kill.
“We should go,” Haplo said.
Hugh the Hand was ready, eager to get on with it. Of course, he had no idea what he was walking into. Even if he couldn’t die... and who knew? Against the Labyrinth’s cruel magic, the Sartan heart-rune might not protect him. Marit was frightened, but resolved. She was going forward, probably because she couldn’t go back.
Either that or she was still hoping to murder him.
And the one person—the last person Haplo would have said he needed or wanted...
“I wish you’d come, Alfred.”
The Sartan shook his head. “No, you don’t. I’d only be in your way. I would faint...”
Haplo regarded the man grimly. “You’ve found your tomb again, haven’t you? Just like in Arianus.”
“And this time I’m not going to leave.” Alfred gazed fixedly downward. He must know his shoes very well by now. “I’ve caused too much trouble already.” He lifted his eyes, cast a quick glance at Hugh the Hand, lowered his eyes again.
“Too much,” he repeated. “Good-bye, Sir Hugh. I’m really... very sorry.”
“Good-bye? That’s it?” the Hand demanded angrily.
“You don’t need me to end the... curse,” Alfred said softly. “Haplo knows where to go, what to do.”
No, Haplo didn’t, but then he figured it wouldn’t matter anyway. They’d likely never get that far.
He was suddenly angry. Let the damn Sartan bury himself. Who cared? Who needed him? Alfred was right. He’d only be in the way, be more trouble than he was worth.
Haplo entered the Labyrinth. The dog cast one mournful look back at Alfred, then trotted along at its master’s heels. Hugh the Hand followed. He looked grim but relieved, always grateful for action. Marit brought up the rear. She was very pale, but she didn’t hesitate.
Alfred stood at the entryway, staring at his shoes.
Haplo walked the path carefully. Coming to the first fork, he halted, examined both branches. One way looked much the same as the other, both probably equally bad. The tooth-like rock formations thrust out from all sides, blocking his view. He could see only upward, see what looked like dripping fangs. He could hear the dark water swirling onward, into the heart of the Labyrinth.
Haplo grinned to himself in the darkness. He touched the dog on the head, turned the dog’s head toward the entrance.
Toward Alfred.
“Go on, boy,” Haplo commanded. “Fetch!”
30
“I don’t like that horrid wizard, Paithan, and i think you should tell him to leave.”
“Orn’s ears, Aleatha, I can’t tell Lord Xar to leave. He has as much right to be here as we do. We don’t own this place—”
“We were here first.”
“Besides, we can’t send the old gentleman out into the arms of the tytans. It would be murder.”
The elf’s voice dropped, but not low enough that Xar couldn’t hear what was being said.
“And he could prove useful, help protect us if the tytans manage to break inside. You saw how he got rid of those monsters when he first came. Whoosh! Blue lights, magic fire.”
“As to that magic fire”—this was the human male, adding his small modicum of wisdom—“the wizard might do the same to us if we make him mad.”
“Not likely,” Xar murmured, smiling unpleasantly. “I wouldn’t waste the effort.”