He saw no sign of the dragon-snakes.
Alake and Devon managed to drag Grundle partway up the shore. Once there, obviously exhausted, they let loose of her hands. All sank down to rest. But Alake had only taken a few deep breaths before she was back on her feet, heading again for the water.
“Where are you going?” The elf’s clear voice echoed in the cavern.
“I’ve got to find him, Devon! He may need help. Did you see his face—” Haplo, muttering imprecations beneath his breath, swam for the shore. Alake heard the sound of his splashing. Unable to see what or who was making the noise, she froze. Devon hurried to her side. Metal glinted in his hand.
“It’s me!” Haplo called to them. His stomach scraped against solid ground. He stood up, walked, dripping, out of the water.
“Are . . . are you all right?” Alake reached out a timid hand, withdrew it at the sight of the scowl on Haplo’s face.
No, he wasn’t all right. He was all wrong.
Ignoring both the human and the elf, he stomped past them, strode swiftly to the fire. The sooner he dried off, the sooner his magic would return. The dwarf lay in a sodden heap on the sand. He wondered if she was dead. A muffled groan reassured him.
“She hurt?” he asked, reaching the fire.
“No,” answered Devon, coming up from behind.
“She’s scared, more than anything,” Alake added. “She’ll come around. What . . . what are you doing?”
“Taking off my clothes,” Haplo grunted. He had stripped off his shirt and his boots, was now unlacing his leather trousers.
Alake gave a strangled cry. She hastily averted her face, covered her eyes with her hands. Haplo grunted again. If the girl had never seen a naked man before, she was going to see one now. He had neither the time nor the patience to indulge a human female’s sensibilities. Though his warning magic was gone, the sigla washed away, he had the distinct feeling that they weren’t alone in this cave. They were being watched.
Flinging his trousers to the sand, Haplo crouched by the blaze, held out his hands and arms to the warming fire. In satisfaction, he watched the droplets of water evaporate, begin to dry. He glanced around.
“Pull your scarf over your head,” he ordered Devon. “Sit by the fire. It’d look suspicious if you didn’t. But keep your face out of the light. And put that damn knife away!”
Devon did as he was told. He thrust the knife in his breast, dragged a strip of wet cloth up over his head and face. Shivering, he crept near the fire, started to squat down, legs crossed.
“Don’t sit like a man!” Haplo hissed. “On your knees. That’s it. Alake, bring Grundle over here. And wake her up. I want everyone conscious and alert.” Alake nodded, not taking time to reply. She hastened over to the prostrate dwarf.
“Grundle, you’ve got to get up. Haplo says so. Grundle”—Alake’s voice lowered—“I can feel the evil. The dragon-snakes are here, Grundle. They’re watching us. Please, you’ve got to be brave!”
The dwarf groaned again, but she sat up, huffing and wheezing and blinking water out of her eyes. Alake helped her to her feet. The two started walking toward the fire.
“Wait!” Haplo breathed.
Slowly, he rose.
Behind him, he heard Alake draw in her breath sharply, heard Grundle mutter something in dwarven, then fall silent. Devon melted back into the shadows. Red-green eyes appeared out of the darkness, made the light of the fire seem dim by contrast. The eyes were slanted, snake eyes and there were many of them, innumerable, far more than Haplo could count. They towered over him, their height unbelievable. A sound came of giant, heavy bodies undulating over sand and rock. A stench, foul and putrid, seemed to coat his nose and mouth with the flavor of death, decay. His stomach clenched. Behind him, he heard the mensch whimper in terror. One of them was retching.
Haplo didn’t turn around. He couldn’t turn around. The dragon-snakes slithered into the firelight. Flames shone on huge, scaled, shining bodies. He was overwhelmed by the enormity of the creatures that loomed before him. Enormous not only in size, but in power. He was awed, humbled. He no longer regretted the loss of his magic, for it would have been of no use. These beings could crush him with a breath. A whisper would hammer him into the ground. Hands clenched at his side, Haplo waited calmly for death.
The largest among the dragon-snakes suddenly reared its head. The green-red eyes burned, seemed to bathe the cavern in an unholy radiance. Then the eyes closed, the head sank to the sand before Haplo, who stood naked in the firelight.
“Patryn,” it said reverently. “Master.”
15
“Well, tear out my whiskers by the roots!”
Haplo heard the dwarf’s awed murmur, felt something of the same himself. The gigantic dragon-snake prostrated its head on the ground before the Patryn. Its fellows had drawn back a respectful distance, their scaled necks arched, heads bowed, slit-eyes closed.
Haplo remained tense, wary, alert. Dragons were intelligent, tricky creatures, not to be trusted.
The dragon-snake lifted its head, reared its body almost to the cavern’s high ceiling. The mensch gasped and cried out. Haplo raised a hand.
“Be quiet,” he ordered.
The dragon-snake was, apparently, merely shifting to a more comfortable position. It wound its body round and round, looping in upon itself, and came to rest with its head pillowed on its own coils.
“Now, we can speak together more comfortably. Please, Patryn, be seated. Welcome to Draknor.”[26]
The dragon-snake spoke the Patryn language, a rune-based language that should have presented images to Haplo’s mind, as well as words. But he saw nothing, heard only the sound, and it was flat and lifeless. A shiver crawled over the Patryn’s skin. It was as if the dragons had reduced the power of the runes to nothing more than shapes and figures, to be manipulated at will.
“Thank you, Royal One.” Haplo seated himself again, never taking his eyes from the dragon-snake.
The snake’s own slit-eyed gaze slid to the mensch, who had not moved. “But why do our young guests keep from drying themselves at the fire? Is the blaze too hot? Perhaps not hot enough. We know so little of you frail beings, we cannot judge properly ...”
Haplo shook his head. “They’re afraid of you, Royal One. After what you did to their people, I can hardly blame them.”
The dragon-snake shifted its coils. Its eyelids closed, a soft, sibilant sigh escaped its toothless mouth. “Ah, I fear we’ve made a terrible mistake. But we will make it up to them.”
The red eyes opened, the snake’s tone was anxious. “You have influence over them? They trust you? Yes, of course. Assure them that we mean them no harm. We will do everything in our power to make their stay among us comfortable. A warm place to sleep? Food, dry clothing? Precious jewels, gold, silver? Will all this make them happy, soothe their fright?”
The ground in front of Haplo was suddenly littered with bowls and baskets and dishes and trays containing every type of luscious food imaginable: mounds of fragrant fruit, plates of steaming meat, bottles of wine, casks of foaming ale.
Clothing of all make and description billowed in the air like multicolored, silken birds, fluttered down to land at Alake’s feet, draped over Devon’s nerveless arms, sparkled in Grundle’s startled eyes. Caskets of emeralds and sapphires and pearls spilled their shining contents into the sand. Mounds of golden coins gleamed in the fire’s light.
Another fire sprang up in the distance, revealing a cave within a cave.
“It is warm and dry,” said the dragon-snake. Speaking to the mensch, it had switched to the human language. “We have filled it with sweet grasses for your beds. You must be exhausted and hungry.” It spoke in elven. “Please, take our gifts, retire for the night.” It concluded in dwarven. “You need have no fear. Your slumber will be safe, blessed. My people will guard it.” The other dragon-snakes wove their bodies in a sinuous dance, the words “safe . . . blessed” hissed through the echoing cave.