“Wine,” he said. His gaze went back to the elf woman. “You are right. A glass of wine will improve her spirits immensely. All of you must take one. Where did you say the dwarf was?”
“We didn’t,” Paithan returned somewhat impatiently, wondering why this emphasis on Drugar. “If we can just get Aleatha calmed down, perhaps we’ll find out.”
“Yes,” Xar said softly, “we will calm her down. And then we will find out all we need to know. This way.” He sidled around behind them, extended his arms.
“This way.”
Paithan had seen human farmers walking their fields at harvest time, sweeping their scythes through the tall grain, cutting it down with broad strokes. Xar’s arms were like those scythes, sweeping the small group up, cutting them down. Paithan’s instinct was to bolt. He forced himself to go along with the others, however.
What’s there to be afraid of? he asked, feeling foolish. He wondered if the other two shared his apprehensions and cast them a quick glance. Roland was so worried about Aleatha he would have walked right off a cliff without knowing it. But Rega was obviously nervous. She kept peering over her shoulder at Xar as he urged them forward with those scythe-blade arms.
He shepherded them toward a large circular room that might have formerly served as either a banquet hall or a meeting room. A round table stood in the center. The room was beneath the Star Chamber, and it was one place in the deserted citadel that none of the mensch ever entered.
At the arched doorway, Paithan came to a sudden stop, so sudden that Xar bumped into him, the old man’s gathering arm encircling him. Rega halted beside Paithan and, reaching out her hand, plucked her brother’s sleeve, alerting Roland to their whereabouts.
“What is it now?” Xar’s voice had an edge to it.
“We... we don’t go in here,” Paithan said.
“This room doesn’t want us in here,” Rega added.
“Nonsense,” Xar snapped. “It’s only a room.”
“No, it’s magical,” Paithan said in a low, awed voice. “We heard voices. And the globe—” He paused, stared.
“It’s gone!” Rega gasped.
“What is?” Xar was mild again. “Tell me.”
“Why... there used to be a crystal globe, hanging over the table. It had four strange lights inside. And when I went over to look at it, I put my hand on the table and suddenly I heard voices. They spoke in a strange language. I couldn’t understand them. But they didn’t seem to want me in here. So... I left.”
“And we’ve never been back since,” Rega said, shivering.
“But now the globe is gone.” Paithan looked hard at Xar. “You moved it.” Xar appeared amused. “I moved it? And why would I do such a thing? This room is no different from any other in the citadel. I found no globe, heard no voices. But it does make an excellent place for a party, don’t you agree? Come, please, come inside. No magic, I assure you. Nothing will harm you—”
“Look at all that wonderful food!” Roland gasped. “Where did all that come from?”
“Well,” Xar said modestly, “perhaps a little magic. Now, please, come, sit, eat, drink ...”
“Put me down,” Aleatha commanded in a perfectly calm, if somewhat tear-ragged, voice.
Roland jumped, almost dropped her. He’d been staring at the food.
“We have to go back!” Aleatha wriggled in his arms. “Put me down, you dolt! Don’t you understand? We have to go to the maze! Drugar went with them. We have to make him come back.”
“Drugar went where? With who?” Paithan demanded. “Put me down!” Aleatha glared at Roland, who—his face grim—dumped her unceremoniously on the floor.
“I hope you don’t think I enjoyed that,” he said coldly and walked over to the delicacy-laden table. “Where’s the wine?”
“In a pitcher.” Xar gestured, his gaze on Aleatha. “Where did you say the dwarf was, my dear?”
She cast him a haughty glance, turned her back on him, spoke to Paithan. “We were in the maze. We found... the theater. There are people there, lots of people. Elves and humans and dwarves...”
“Quit kidding, Thea...” Paithan flushed, embarrassed.
“Where’s the wine?” Roland mumbled, his mouth full.
“I’m serious,” Aleatha cried, stamping her foot. “They’re not real people. They’re only fog-people. We can see them when the starlight comes on. But... but now...” Her voice quivered. “Drugar’s... one of them! He’s... changed into fog.”
She grabbed hold of Paithan’s arm. “Just come, will you?” she insisted angrily.
“Maybe after we have some food.” Paithan attempted to placate his sister. “You should eat something, too, Thea. You know how you see things on an empty stomach.”
“Yes!” Xar hissed the word unpleasantly. “Eat, drink. You will all feel much better.”
“I found the wine pitcher,” Roland called. “But it’s empty. The wine’s all gone.”
“What?” Xar whipped around.
Roland held out the empty pitcher. “See for yourself.” Xar snatched the pitcher, glared inside. A small amount of reddish liquid sloshed around in the bottom. He sniffed at it. He raised his gaze to the four, who shrank back, alarmed at his fury.
“Who drank this?”
From beneath the table came a thin, strident voice, raised in song.
“Goldfinger...”
Xar’s face blanched, then went red with outrage. Reaching beneath the table, he caught hold of a protruding foot, tugged on it, dragged the foot out. The rest of the old man came along with it, sliding on his back, singing happily to himself.
“You drank the wine... all the wine!” Xar could barely talk. Zifnab gazed up at him with watery eyes. “Lovely bouquet. Exquisite color. Slightly bitter finish, but I suppose that must be due to the poison...” He lay on his back, began singing again. “You only live twice...”
“Poison!” Paithan caught hold of Rega, who clutched at him. Roland choked on the food, spit it out all over the floor.
“He’s lying!” said Xar harshly. “Don’t believe the old fool. This is a prank...”
The Lord of the Nexus bent down swiftly, put his hand on the old man’s chest, began to mutter and move his fingers in a strange pattern. But suddenly the old man’s face contorted in pain. He let out a horrible cry. His hands clawed at the air, his body twisted and twitched. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the hem of Aleatha’s skirt. “Poison! He meant... for you!” Zifnab gasped. His body curled in on itself; he writhed in agony. Then he stiffened, shuddered. A final convulsive scream, and the old man lay still. His eyes were open, wide and staring. His hand was locked firmly on to Aleatha’s skirt. He was dead. Horror-stricken, Paithan stared at the corpse. Roland was off in a corner, heaving his guts out.
Xar’s eyes swept over them, and Paithan saw the gleam of the scythe blade sweeping past, mowing them down.
“It would have been a painless death,” Xar said. “Swift, simple. But this fool has changed all that. You must die. And you will die...” Xar reached out his hand toward Aleatha. She stood terrified, unable to move, her dress caught in the corpse’s grip. Aleatha had a dim impression of Paithan leaping in front of her, knocking aside the wizard’s hand... Wanting only to escape this horrible place, this terrible man, the hideous corpse, Aleatha tore her skirt from the dead man’s hand and ran, panic-stricken, from the chamber.
40
“What do you mean, ‘she’s betrayed us’?” Alfred asked nervously.
“Marit’s told them you’re a Sartan,” Haplo answered. “And that I brought you into the Labyrinth.”
Alfred gave the matter careful thought. “Then she’s only really betrayed me. I’m the one putting you in danger.” He thought longer, brightened. “You could tell them that I am your prisoner. That...” His words died out at the sight of Haplo’s grim expression.