Alfred sat down heavily in the chair. The dog, grieving for the man’s unhappiness, padded silently over and nuzzled him with its nose. Alfred rested his aching head in his arms.
Gentle, cool hands slid around his shoulders. Orla knelt beside him. “I know how you feel. I truly do. We all felt the same. Samah, the rest of the Council. It was as if ... How did Samah put this? We were like humans drunk on strong wine. When they’re intoxicated, everything looks wonderful to them and they can do anything, solve any problem. But, when the effects of the spirits wear off, they’re left sick and hurting and feeling worse than they did before.”
Alfred raised his head, looked at her bleakly. “What if the fault is ours? What if I had stayed on Abarrach? Did a miracle happen there? I’ll never know. I left. I left because I was afraid.”
“And we were afraid, too.” Orla’s fingers tightened over his arm in her earnestness. “The darkness of the Patryns was very real and this vague light that some of us had experienced was nothing but the tiny flicker of a candle flame, likely to be blown out with a breath. How can we put our faith in this? In something we don’t understand?”
“What is faith?” Alfred asked gently, not talking to her but to himself.
“Believing in something you do not understand. And how can we poor mortals understand that vast and terrible and wonderful mind?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered brokenly. “I don’t know.” Alfred grasped her hand. “This was what you fought over. You and the other Council members! You and . . . and”—it was difficult for him to say the word—“your husband.”
“Samah didn’t believe in any of it. He said it was a trick, a trick of our enemy’s.”
Alfred heard Haplo speaking, the Patryn’s words were almost an echo. A trick, Sartan! You tricked me . . .
“. . . opposed the Sundering,” Orla was continuing. “We wanted to wait before taking such drastic action. But Samah and the others were afraid—”
“And with good cause, so it appears,” came a grim voice. “When I returned home and discovered you both gone, I had an idea where you might be found.” Alfred quailed at the sound, shivered. Orla, very pale, rose slowly to her feet. She remained standing near him, however, her hand resting on his shoulder in protective support. The dog, having been negligent in its duties, was apparently attempting to make up for it by barking at Samah with all its energy.
“Shut the beast up,” said Samah, “or I will kill it.”
“You can’t kill it,” Alfred replied, shaking his head. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t kill this animal or what it represents.” But he rested his hand on the animal’s head. The dog suffered itself to be gentled into silence.
“At least now we know who and what you are,” stated the Councillor, eyeing Alfred grimly. “A Patryn spy, sent to learn our secrets.” His gaze shifted to his wife. “And corrupt the trusting.”
Resolutely, with dignity, Alfred rose to his feet. “You are wrong. I am a Sartan, to my sorrow. And as for learning secrets”—he gestured to the scroll—“it seems the secrets I have discovered were meant to be kept from our own people, not from the so-called enemy.”
Samah was livid with rage, unable to speak.
“No,” Orla whispered, looking earnestly at Alfred, her hand biting into his arm. “No, you’re wrong. The time wasn’t right—”
“Our reasons for doing what we did are not his concern, Wife!” Samah interrupted. He paused, waiting to speak until he had mastered his anger.
“Alfred Montbank, you will remain a prisoner here until the Council meets and we decide what measures to take.”
“A prisoner? Is that necessary?” Orla protested.
“I deem it so. I was coming to tell you the news we have just received from the dolphins. This man’s Patryn ally has been discovered. He is here in Chelestra and, as we feared, he is in league with the dragon-snakes. He has met with them, he and representatives from the mensch royal families.”
“Alfred,” said Orla, “can this be true?”
“I don’t know,” Alfred replied wretchedly. “Haplo might do something like this, I’m afraid, but you must understand that he—”
“Listen to him, Wife. Even now, he seeks to defend this Patryn.”
“How can you?” Orla demanded, drawing away from Alfred, regarding him with mingled sorrow, pain. “You would see your own people destroyed!”
“No, he would see his own people victorious,” said Samah coldly. “You forget, my dear, he is more Patryn than Sartan.”
Alfred made no reply, but stood clasping and unclasping his hands over the back of the chair.
“Why do you stand there and say nothing?” Orla cried. “Tell my husband he’s wrong! Tell me I’m wrong!”
Alfred lifted mild blue eyes. “What can I say that you would believe?” Orla stared at him, started to reply, then shook her head in frustration. Turning her back on him, she walked out of the room.
Samah regarded Alfred grimly.
“This time, I will post a guard. You will be called.” He stalked off, accompanied by the dog’s defiant growl.
Ramu appeared in his father’s place. Coming to the table, the son cast Alfred a baleful glance and laid firm hands upon the scroll. Deliberately and with great care, he rolled it up tightly, slid it into the scrollcase, and returned it to its proper place. He then took up a position at the back of the room, as far from Alfred as a Sartan could get and still keep an eye on him. There was no need to guard him, however. Alfred would not have attempted to escape had the door been left standing wide open. He sat despondent, hunched in misery—a prisoner of his own people, the people he had hoped so long to find. He was in the wrong. He’d done a terrible thing and he couldn’t, for the life of him, imagine what had prompted him to do it.
His actions had angered Samah. Worse, Alfred had hurt Orla. And all for what?
To meddle in affairs that were not any of his business, affairs that were beyond his understanding.
“Samah is far wiser than I am,” he said to himself. “He knows what is best. He is right. I am not Sartan. I am part Patryn, part mensch. Even”—he added, with a sad smile for the faithful animal, lying at his feet—“a little bit of dog. Most of all, though, I’m a fool. Samah wouldn’t attempt to suppress such knowledge. As Orla said, he was waiting for a more appropriate time. That’s all.
“I will apologize to the Council,” he continued, sighing, “and I will gladly do whatever they ask of me. And then I will leave. I can’t stay here any longer. Why is it?” He looked at his own hands, shook them in frustration.
“Why do I break everything I touch? Why do I bring ruin on those I care about? I’ll leave this world and never return. I’ll go back to my crypt in Arianus and I’ll sleep. Sleep a long, long time. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, I’ll never wake up.
“And you,” said Alfred, glaring bitterly at the dog. “You’re on your own. Haplo didn’t lose you, did he? He sent you away deliberately. He doesn’t want you back! Well, good riddance, I say. I’ll leave you here, too. Both of you!” The animal cringed at his angry tone and baleful stare. Ears and tail drooping, the dog sank down at Alfred’s feet and lay there, watching him with sad, sorrowful eyes.
19
Much to Haplo’s amazement, the royal families, reunited with their children, decided to depart. Each family, it seemed, intended to return home, to rest and relax and, when they felt strong enough, discuss the idea of making the Sun Chase.
“What is this? Where are you going?” Haplo demanded of the dwarves, about to board their submersible. The humans were heading for theirs.
“We are going back to Phondra,” said Dumaka.
“Phondra!” Haplo stared at him, open-mouthed. Mensch! he thought in disgust.