The mensch, having expected death, torture, torment, were completely disarmed and bewildered by the lavish gifts. They stood staring, dazed and, if anything, more frightened.
Grundle was the first to recover her tongue. A circlet of silver had dropped out of the air, onto her head, over one eye. Floundering through a heap of cloth and mounds of food, she stomped over to Haplo.
Hands on her hips, she pointedly ignored the dragon-snakes, spoke to the Patryn as if no one else was on the beach except the two of them.
“What is all this? What’s going on? What are you two talking about in that dark language of yours?”
“The dragon-snake says there’s been a mistake. It’s trying to make amends. I think—” Haplo began, but he didn’t get far.
“Amends!” Grundle raised a clenched fist, whipped around to face the dragon-snake. “For destroying the sun-chasers, for butchering Alake’s people, for torturing that poor elf! I’ll give the beast amends. I’ll—” Haplo caught hold of her, dragged her down, squirming and kicking. “Stop it, you little fool! You want to get us all killed?”
Panting, Grundle glared up at him. He held her fast until he felt the sturdy body relax in his grip.
“I’m all right now,” she told him sullenly.
He let her up. She crouched at his side, rubbing her bruised wrists. Haplo motioned to the other two to come join them.
“Listen to me, all of you!” he said. “I’m going to try to find out what’s going on. But in the meantime, you three will accept the dragon’s hospitality with a good grace. We might yet come out alive—you and your people. That’s why you came, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Haplo,” said Alake. “We’ll do what you say.”
“I don’t suppose we have much choice, do we?” Devon asked, his words muffled by the wet scarf around his head.
Grundle nodded grudgingly. “But I still don’t trust them!” she added, shaking her whiskers at the snakes in defiance.
“Good.” Haplo smiled. “I don’t either. Keep your eyes and ears open, your mouths shut. Now, do as the dragon-snake suggests. Go to that cave. You and Alake and . . . uh—”
“Sabia.”
“Sabia. You three go into that cave and try to get some sleep. Take dry clothes with you and some wine and whatever else you want. Food, maybe.” Grundle sniffed. “It’s probably poisoned.”
Haplo checked an exasperated sigh. “If they wanted to kill you, they could have dropped an ax on your head, instead of that.” He pointed to the silver crown, which had once more slipped down over one eye.
Removing the circlet, the dwarf regarded it suspiciously, then she shrugged.
“You make sense,” she said, sounding surprised.
Tossing the silver to the sand, she grabbed a basket of bread in one hand, hefted a small barrel of ale with the other, and trudged off toward the cave.
“Go with her,” Haplo told Alake, who was lingering near him. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Yes, I know. I ... I will take your clothes and dry them for you,” Alake offered.
She darted Haplo a sidelong glance, then swiftly averted her gaze and started to pick up his wet trousers.
“No need,” Haplo said, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Thank you, but the dragon-snakes have provided clothing for me, as well. However, you might want to pick out something for ... her . . . Sabia. Something that fits better.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Alake seemed relieved to have a task to perform. She began to sort among the vast amount of raiments scattered about the sand. Finding what she wanted, she looked back at Haplo with a smile, cast a cool, defiant glance at the dragon-snakes, then hurried off after Grundle. Devon, still keeping to the shadows, was gathering up food and wine. He was about to follow the others to the cave, when Haplo beckoned.
“Two of you sleep. One stays awake. Understand?” He spoke softly, in elven. Devon made no response, merely nodded and went on his way.
Haplo turned back to the dragon-snake, who had rested quietly the entire time, its head on its coiled body, its eyes blinking lazily in the firelight.
“Truly,” it said, when the three had disappeared into the cave, “you Patryns have a way with the mensch. If your people had been free to help them, all these centuries, what marvelous things might they have accomplished. Alas, it was not to be.”
The dragon-snake sadly mused to itself long moments, then shifted its great bulk.
“However, now that you have escaped your unjust incarceration, you will, no doubt, make up for wasted time and opportunity. Tell me about your people and your plans.”
Haplo shrugged. “Our story is long, Royal One, and, though it is bitter to us, would probably be boring to others.” He had no intention of telling these creatures anything about his people. His body was dry; he could see the faint outlines of the sigla returning to his skin. “Do you mind if I get dressed?” He had noticed, suddenly, a number of weapons, lying among the piles of jewels and clothing. He wanted a closer look.
“Please. By all means. How thoughtless of me not to have suggested it. But then”—the snake glanced complacently at its own scaled skin—“we tend not to think in such terms.”
Haplo rummaged among the mass of clothing, found what he needed, and dressed himself. All the while his eyes were on a sword. He wondered how he could manage to pick it up without arousing the snake’s ire.
“But the sword is yours, Master,” said the dragon-snake calmly. Haplo looked at it in wary astonishment.
“It is not wise to go unarmed in the presence of your enemy,” the dragon-snake remarked.
Haplo lifted the sword, hefted it experimentally, liked the way it felt. Almost as if it had been made for his hand. He found a swordbelt, buckled it on, slid the weapon in its sheath. “By enemy, I take it you mean the Sartan, Royal One.”
“Who else?” The dragon-snake appeared confused. Then, suddenly, it understood.
“Ah, you refer to us. I should have known. You formed your opinion of us after talking to them.” It glanced at the cave.
“Provided they told me the truth,” Haplo said.
“Oh, they did. I’m certain.” The dragon-snake sighed again and its sigh was echoed by its fellows. “We acted hastily and perhaps were, shall we say, overzealous in our efforts to intimidate them. But all creatures have a right to defend themselves. Is the wolf called cruel when he goes for the throat of the lion?”
Haplo grunted, glanced at the display of magical power that was manifest on the ground all around him. “You want me to believe you’re frightened of a handful of elves, humans, and dwarves?”
“Not the mensch,” hissed the dragon-snake. “Those who stand behind the mensch! Those who brought them here!”
“The Sartan.”
“Yes! Your ancient enemy and ours.”
“You’re saying that the Sartan are here, on Chelestra.”
“An entire city of them. Led by one whose name is not unfamiliar to you.”
“Samah?” Haplo frowned. “So you said to me on board the ship, Royal One. But it can’t be the same Samah, the Councillor responsible for imprisoning us—”
“The one! The same!” The dragon-snake reared up from among its coils, its red-green eyes flared. Whispering to itself, seething, it slowly calmed, settled back down. “By the way, what are you called, Patryn?”
“Haplo.”
“Haplo.” The snake seemed to taste the word, found it to its liking. “Then, Haplo, I will tell you how it is that this Samah has returned again to a universe he and those of his accursed race nearly destroyed.
“After the Sundering, Samah and his Council of Seven looked over the four new worlds they had created and chose the most beautiful among them on which to make their home. They brought with them their favorites among the mensch, to serve as their slaves, and founded their city of Surunan on a magically created landmass which they call the Chalice.