But it was obvious that Alake’s words were falling on deaf ears. Devon paid no attention to her, didn’t respond in any way.
Dumaka’s grim expression softened. “So young, to be dealt such a heavy blow.”
“Three nights running,” said Eliason, in low tones, “we discovered him in that room where my daughter . . . where she . . .” He swallowed, turned exceedingly pale.
Dumaka squeezed his arm in silent sympathy, to indicate he understood. Eliason drew a deep breath. “Thank you, my friend. We found him . . . there, staring out the window at the stones below. You can imagine what terrible deed we feared he contemplated. I brought him with me, hoping that the company of his friends would draw him out of the shadows that surround him. And it was for his sake I left earlier than I had intended.”
“Thank you, Devon,” Haplo muttered.
Alake, after a helpless glance at her father, finally suggested that Devon might want to see his quarters, and offered to show him the way. He responded like one of the automatons the Gegs used on Arianus, trailing after Alake with listless step and bowed head. He didn’t know where he was, obviously cared less.
Haplo remained hanging about Eliason and Dumaka, but it was soon apparent that the two rulers were going to talk of Devon and his sorrows and nothing of major importance.
Just as well, Haplo decided, leaving them. They’re not likely to get into a fight over that subject. And I have at least two out of five mensch speaking to each other.
He couldn’t help but think back to his time spent on Arianus, time spent trying to spread discord between elves and humans and dwarves. Now he was working twice as hard to bring the three mensch races together.
“I might almost believe in this One,” he said to himself. “Somebody must be getting a big laugh out of all this.”
The ceremonial drum was beating, calling the royal families to conference. Everyone in the village turned out to watch the various parties wend their way to the longhouse. At any other time, such a meeting would have been cause for jubilation; the Phondrans would have been chattering among themselves, pointing out to their children such curiosities as the remarkable length of dwarven beards, the sunlight blondness of elven hair.
But this day, the Phondrans stood in silence, quieting irritably the children’s high-pitched questions. Rumor had blown through Phondra like the embers of a campfire, stirred by a high wind. Wherever it fell, small blazes started up, spread rapidly through the tribes of the realm. Other humans from other tribes had traveled here in their long narrow boats, to witness the meeting.
Many of these were witches and warlocks, belonging to the Coven, and were welcomed by Delu, made guests of her own lodgehouse. Others were chieftains, owing their loyalty to Dumaka, and were welcomed by him. Still others were nobody in particular, just curious. These invariably had some guestfriend or relative among the tribe. Nearly every lodge had at least one extra blanket spread on its floor.
All gathered to watch the procession, consisting of the three royal families, representatives of other Phondran tribes, the Phondran Coven, the Elmas Guildsmen, the Gargan Elders—all of the latter acting as witnesses for their people. The humans were silent, faces strained and tense, worried and anxious. Everyone knew that no matter what was decided in the meeting, their fate—for good or ill—depended on the outcome.
Haplo had started for the lodge early, intending to slip inside before any of the dignitaries arrived. But, glancing out to sea, he was disconcerted and none too pleased to see the long sinuous necks and green-red slit eyes of the dragon-snakes.
He couldn’t help feeling a qualm, an uncomfortable tightening of stomach muscles, a chill in his bowels. The sigla on his skin began to glow a faint blue.
Haplo wished irritably the snakes hadn’t come, hoped none of the others saw them. He’d have to remember to try to keep everyone from the water’s edge. The drum beat loudly, then stopped. The members of the three families met outside the lodgehouse, were making a show of friendship—grudging on the part of the dwarves, stiff and constrained on the part of everyone else. Haplo was wondering how he could manage to evade getting caught up in the formalities, when two figures, one tall and one short, loomed in his path. Hands grabbed his arms. Alake and Grundle dragged him into the jungle shadows.
“I don’t have time for games—” he began impatiently, then took a good look at their faces. “What’s happened?”
“You’ve got to help us!” Alake gasped. “We don’t know what to do! I think we should tell my father—”
“That’s the last thing we want to do!” Grundle snapped. “The meeting’s just getting started. If we break it up now, who knows when they’ll ever get back together?”
“But—”
“What’s happened?” Haplo demanded.
“Devon!” Alake’s eyes were wide and frightened. “He’s . . . disappeared.”
“Damn!” Haplo swore beneath his breath.
“He’s gone for a walk. That’s all,” Grundle said, but the dwarf’s nut-brown complexion was pale, her side whiskers trembled.
“I’m going to tell my father, he’ll call out the trackers.” Alake started to run away.
Haplo caught hold of her, hauled her back.
“We can’t afford to interrupt the meeting. I’m a fair tracker myself. We’ll find him, bring him back quietly, without fuss. Grundle’s right. He’s probably just gone off for a walk, to be by himself. Now, where and when did you last see him?”
Alake had been the last to see him.
“I took him to the elven guesthouse. I stayed with him, tried to talk to him. Then Eliason and the other elves returned to prepare for the meeting and I had to leave. But I waited around, hoping to get a chance to talk to him when Eliason and the rest left. I went back to the guesthouse. He was there, alone.”
“I told him that Grundle and I had found a place in back of the longhouse where we could . . . well, that is ...”
“Listen in?” Haplo suggested.
“We have a right,” Grundle stated. “This all happened because of us. We should be there.”
“I agree,” said Haplo quietly, to calm the irate dwarf. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, finish telling me about Devon.”
“At first, he seemed almost angry to see me. He said he didn’t want to listen to anything our parents said. He didn’t care. Then, suddenly, he cheered up. He was almost too cheerful, somehow. It was . . . kind of awful.” She shuddered.
“He told me he was hungry. He knew dinner would be a long time coming, what with the meeting and all, and he asked me if I could find him something to eat. I told him I could and tried to persuade him to come with me. He didn’t want to leave the guesthouse, he said. The people staring at him made him nervous.
“I thought it would be good if he ate something; I don’t think he’s eaten in days. And so I left to fetch food. There were other elves with him. On the way, I ran into Grundle, looking for me. I brought her along, thinking she might be able to cheer up Devon. When we got back to the lodge”—Alake spread her hands—“he was gone.”
Haplo didn’t like the sounds of any of this. He’d known people in the Labyrinth who suddenly couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand the pain, the horror, the loss of a friend, a mate. He’d seen the ghastly cheerfulness that often came after a severe despondency.
Alake saw the grim expression on his face. She moaned, covered her mouth with her hand. Grundle tugged at her side whiskers in black gloom.
“He’s probably just taking a walk,” Haplo repeated. “Did you look for him in the village? Maybe he went after Eliason?”
“He didn’t,” said Alake softly. “When we got back to the guesthouse, I searched around back. I found . . . tracks. His tracks, I’m certain. They lead right into the jungle.”
That clinches it, thought Haplo. Aloud, he added, “Keep quiet. Try to act as if nothing’s the matter, and take me there, quickly.”