“The dolphins don’t think much of the Sartan,” Alake was saying to me, in low tones. “Apparently, the Sartan ask the dolphins continually for information, but when the dolphins ask the Sartan questions, the Sartan refuse to answer.” Haplo nodded; this information obviously didn’t surprise him much. In fact, I could see he wasn’t surprised by anything he heard, as if he knew it all beforehand. I wondered why he asked, why he bothered. He had joined us, sitting in the sand, his arms propped up on his bent knees, hands clasped. He looked relaxed, prepared to sit here for several signe.
“Is there . . . anything else you want to know?” Alake glanced at him then over at us to see if we knew what was going on.
We weren’t any help. Devon was busy digging holes in the sand, watching them fill with water and tiny sea creatures. I felt angry and unhappy and began tossing rocks at the dolphin, just to see how close I could come to hitting it.
The stupid fish, tickled by the dress question, I suppose, swam out of my range, started to giggle and cavort.
“What’s so funny?” Haplo asked. He seemed relaxed, but from where I was seated, I could see a glint in his eye, a bright flash like sun off hard, cold steel.
Of course, the dolphin was eager to tell.
“What?” I asked.
Alake shrugged. “Only that there is one Sartan who dresses much differently from the others. He looks different from the others.”
“Different? How?”
Casual conversation, except I saw that Haplo’s hands had tightened. The dolphins were eager to describe it. Several more swam up at this point, all talking at once. Haplo listened intently. It took Alake some moments to sort out who was squeaking what.
“The man wears a coat and knee breeches, like a dwarf, only he’s not a dwarf. He’s much taller. He has no hair on the top of his head. His clothes are shabby and worn out, and the dolphins say he seems as worn out as his clothes.”
I watched Haplo out of the corner of my eye; a shiver crept over me. His expression had changed. He was smiling, but his smile was unpleasant, made me want to look away. The fingers of his hands were clasped so tightly together that the knuckles, beneath their blue marks, had all turned white. This was what he’d wanted to hear. But, why? Who was this man?
“The dolphins don’t think that this man is a Sartan.” Alake continued talking in some perplexity, expecting every moment for Haplo to end what seemed a boring conversation. He listened with quiet interest, however, saying nothing, encouraging the dolphins silently to continue.
“He doesn’t go around with the Sartan. The dolphins see him walking on the pier alone a lot. They say he looks much nicer than the Sartan, whose faces seem to have stayed frozen when the rest of them thawed out. The dolphins would like to talk to him, but he has a dog with him that barks at them when they come too close—”
“Dog!”
Haplo’s whole body flinched, as if someone’d hit him. And I’ll never forget, if I live to be four hundred, the tone of his voice. It made my hair stand on end. Alake was staring at him in astonishment. The dolphins, sensing a choice morsel of gossip, swam as close as they possibly could without actually beaching themselves.
“Dog . . .” Devon’s head jerked up. I don’t think he’d been paying much attention, up to this point. “What about a dog?” he whispered to me. I shook my side whiskers at him, to keep him quiet. I didn’t want to miss whatever Haplo was going to do or say next. He didn’t say or do anything, however. Just sat there.
For some reason, I recalled a recent evening spent at our local tavern, enjoying the usual brawl. One of my uncles was hit over the head with a chair. He sat on the floor for quite a while, and the expression on his face was identical to the expression on Haplo’s.
First my uncle looked dazed, stunned. Pain brought him to his senses; his face kind of twisted, and he moaned a little. But by then, too, he realized what had happened to him, and he was so angry he forgot that he hurt. Haplo didn’t moan. He didn’t make any sound that I heard. But I saw his face twist, then darken in anger. He jumped to his feet and, without a word, stalked off back toward camp.
Alake cried out, and would have run after him, if I hadn’t been holding onto the hem of her dress. As I told you, the Phondrans don’t believe in buttons or anything of that type. They wrap the cloth around themselves. While ordinarily the folds are quite secure, one good tug in a strategic location can pretty well undo the whole business.
Alake gasped, grappled with folds of falling fabric, and by the time she was properly redraped, Haplo was out of sight.
“Grundle!” She pounced on me. “What did you do that for?”
“I saw his face,” I answered. “Obviously, you didn’t. Believe me, he wanted to be alone.”
I thought she was going to fly off after him and I was on my feet, prepared to stop her, when she sighed, suddenly, and shook her head.
“I saw his face, too,” was all she said.
The dolphins were squeaking in excitement, begging to know the gory details.
“Go on! Get out of here!” I said, and began chucking rocks in earnest. They swam off, with hurt and offended squeaks. But I noticed that they only swam out of range of my throwing arm and that they kept their heads out of the water, mouths open, beady little eyes watching eagerly.
“Stupid fish!” snapped Alake, tossing her head, making her ear-jangles clash like bells. “Vicious gossips. I don’t believe anything they say.” She kept glancing at us uneasily, wondering if we’d overheard what the dolphins said about Haplo and the dragon-snakes. I tried to look innocent, but I must not have succeeded.
“Oh, Grundle! Surely you don’t think for a moment what they said was true! That Haplo’s using us! Devon”—Alake turned to the elf for support—“tell Grundle that she’s wrong. Haplo wouldn’t do ... what they said. He just wouldn’t! He saved your life, Devon.”
But Devon wasn’t listening. “Dog,” he repeated thoughtfully. “He said something to me about a dog. I wish I ... I just can’t remember . . .”
“You have to admit, Alake,” I said reluctantly, “that we don’t know anything about him. Where he comes from, even what he is. Now this man with no hair on his head and the shabby clothes. Haplo obviously knew the man was with the Sartan; he wasn’t the least surprised to hear about him. He was surprised about the dog, though, and from the look of him, the surprise wasn’t pleasant. Who is this strange man? What does he have to do with Haplo? And what’s the big deal about a dog?” I looked hard at Devon as I spoke. The elf was no help. He only shrugged. “I’m sorry, Grundle. I wasn’t feeling very good at the time . . .”
“I know all about Haplo I need to know,” said Alake angrily, twitching the folds of her dress back into place. “He saved our lives, saved you twice, Devon!”
“Yes,” said Devon, not looking at Alake, “and how nicely it all worked out for him.”
“It did, didn’t it?” I said, thinking back. “He was the hero, the savior. No one’s ever questioned a thing he says. I think we should tell our parents—” Alake stomped her foot. Bracelets and ear-jangles rang wildly. I’d never seen her so angry. “You do, Grundle Heavybeard, and I’ll never speak to you again! I swear it by the One!”
“There’s a way we can find out for certain,” Devon said soothingly, to calm her down. He stood up, brushed the sand off his hands.
“What’s that?” Alake demanded, sullen, suspicious.