“A lovely name,” he said. “Almost as lovely as the woman it graces.” He was rewarded with a smile and a flutter of long lashes. Haplo began to eat, some sort of stew and a loaf of slightly stale bread.
“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, his mouth full. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. “Come in. Let’s talk.”
“We’re afraid we’re disturbing your rest,” began Alake, glancing at her two companions, who had remained standing by the door.
Haplo shook his head, gestured with a hunk of bread. Alake sat down nearest him, but not close enough to be considered immodest. The elf maid crept inside the door and found a seat in a chair in the shadows. She moved awkwardly, lacking the grace Haplo normally associated with elves. But perhaps that was because she was wearing a dress that appeared to be too small for her. A shawl covered her arms. A long silken veil was wrapped around her head and face, leaving nothing showing except her almond-shaped eyes.
The dwarf stumped in on short, thick legs, squatted down comfortably on the floor, folded her arms across her chest, and regarded Haplo with deep suspicion.
“Where do you come from?” she demanded, speaking dwarven.
“Grundle!” Alake reprimanded. “Let him eat his dinner.” The dwarf ignored her. “Where do you come from? Who sent you? Was it the dragon-snakes?”
Haplo took his time answering. He cleaned his bowl out with the bread, asked for something to drink. The dwarf wordlessly passed over a bottle of some strong-smelling liquor.
“Would you rather have water?” Alake inquired anxiously. Haplo thought privately that he’d had water enough to last him a lifetime, but he didn’t want to lose his faculties in the bottom of a brandy bottle, and so he nodded.
“Grundle—” Alake began.
“I’ll go,” murmured the elf maid, and left the small room.
“My name is Haplo,” he began.
“You told us that last night,” Grundle stated.
“Don’t interrupt!” Alake said, flashing her friend an angry glance. Grundle muttered something and leaned back against the wall, her small feet propped out in front of her.
“The ship in which I sailed broke apart. I managed to escape, and drifted about in the water until you found me and were kind enough to take me on board.” Haplo smiled again at Alake, who lowered her eyes and toyed with the brass beads in her hair. “As for where I’m from, you’ve probably never heard of the name, but it’s a world much like your own.”
That was a safe enough answer. He might have known it wouldn’t satisfy the dwarf.
“A seamoon like ours?”
“Something similar.”
“How do you know what our seamoon is like?”
“All know that the . . . um . . . seamoons of Chelestra are the same,” Haplo answered.
Grundle jabbed a finger at him. “Why do you draw pictures on your skin?”
“Why do dwarves wear beards?” Haplo countered.
“That’s enough, Grundle!” Alake snapped. “What he says makes perfect sense.”
“Oh, he can talk well enough,” the dwarf returned. “Not that he said much of anything, if you’ll notice. But I’d like to hear what he’s got to say about the dragon-snakes.”
The elf maid had returned with the water. Handing the pitcher to Alake, the elf said, in a low voice, “Grundle is right. We need to know about the dragon-snakes.”
Alake gave Haplo an apologetic glance. “Sabia and Grundle fear that you have been sent by the dragon-snakes to spy on us. I have no idea why, since we are their captives and we go to meet our doom willingly—”
“Wait! Slow down.” Haplo raised a hand to halt the flood. He eyed the young women. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. But, before you explain, let me tell you that the person who sent me is my liege lord. He is a man, not a dragon. And from what I’ve seen of dragons in my world, I wouldn’t do a damn thing for one except kill it.”
Haplo spoke quietly, his tone and manner convincing. And, in this, he spoke the truth. Dragons in the Labyrinth are highly intelligent, fearsome beings. He’d seen other dragons during his travels. Some were evil, others purportedly good, but he’d found nothing in any of the creatures he trusted.
“Now,” continued Haplo, seeing the dwarf opening her mouth, “suppose you tell me what you three are doing on board this ship all alone.”
“Who says we’re alone?” Grundle struck in, but her protest was faint and halfhearted.
It wasn’t so much that the three girls believed him, Haplo realized, but that they wanted to believe him. After Haplo’d heard their story, he understood why.
He listened with outward composure to Alake tell their tale. Inwardly, he was fuming. If he had believed in a Higher Power controlling his destiny, which he most assuredly did not, despite Alfred’s tricks to convince him otherwise,[22] then he would have thought the Higher Power was laughing heartily. Weakened in his own magic, weaker than he’d ever been in his life, Haplo’d managed to get himself rescued by three sacrificial lambs trotting meekly to their deaths!
“You can’t be serious!”
“We are,” said Alake. “It is for the sake of our people.”
“You chose to do this? You haven’t tried to escape? To get away?”
“No, and we won’t, either,” said Grundle resolutely. “This was our decision. Our parents didn’t even know we were leaving. They would have tried to stop us.”
“And they would have been right!” Haplo glared at the three. Trotting along to their deaths . . . and taking him with them!
Alake’s voice sank to a whisper. “You think we’re fools, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Haplo answered bluntly. “These dragon-snakes, from what you’ve told me, have tortured and murdered people. And you think they’re going to keep their word, accept three sacrifices, then meekly slither away?” Grundle cleared her throat loudly, drummed her heels on the deck. “Then why make the bargain at all? What do the dragon-snakes get out of it? Why not just murder us and be done with it?”
“What do the dragon-snakes get out of it? I’ll tell you what they get. Fear. Anguish. Chaos. In my land, we have creatures that live off fear, thrive off it. Think about it. These dragon-snakes, if they’re as powerful as you say, could have come in the night and attacked your seamoons. But, no. What do they do? They come by day. They wreak havoc on small numbers of your people. They give messages, demand sacrifices. And look at the results!
“Your people are far more terrified now than they would have been if they’d had to beat off a sudden attack. And the three of you running off like this has only made things worse for your people, not better.” Alake wilted beneath Haplo’s glowering gaze. Even the stubborn Grundle appeared to lose her defiant attitude, and began to tug uneasily at her side whiskers. Only Sabia, the elf maid, remained cool and calm. She sat on her stool, straight-backed, upright, looking distant and aloof, as if she alone were content with her decision. Nothing he said had made a difference to her. Odd. But then the elf maid was odd. Haplo couldn’t figure out why. There was something about her . . .
Her.
Haplo noticed, suddenly, the way Sabia was sitting. When she’d first sat down, she kept her knees close together, ankles demurely crossed beneath the long skirt. But during Alake’s long retelling of their woeful tale, the elf maid had relaxed, forgotten herself. Now she was sitting spraddle-legged on the short stool, her knees akimbo, her hands resting on her knees, her feet tucked behind.
If I’m right, Haplo thought, this is certain to clinch it. They’ll have no choice but to go along with me.
“What do you think’s happening right now in your family?” Haplo demanded of Alake. “Instead of preparing for war, as he should be doing, your father is now afraid to do anything! He doesn’t dare attack the dragon-snakes while they have you captive. He’s gnawed by remorse, grows weaker with despair every day.”