“Spy—”
“No! I forbid it! I won’t have you spying on him—”
“Not on him,” said Devon. “On the dragon-snakes.” Now I felt as if I’d been hit over the head with a chair. The very idea took my breath away.
“I agree with you, Alake,” Devon argued persuasively, “I want to believe in Haplo. But we can’t get around the fact that dolphins generally know what’s going on—”
“ ‘Generally’!” Alake repeated bitterly.
“Yes, that’s what I mean. What if they’ve got part of it wrong and part of it right? What if, for example, the dragon-snakes are using Haplo? What if he’s in just as much danger as we are? I think, before we tell our parents or anybody, we should find out the truth.”
“The elf’s got a point,” I admitted. “At least for now, the dragon-snakes seem to be on our side. And snakes or no snakes, we can’t stay on the seamoons. We’ve got to reach Surunan. And if we bring this up . . .” I didn’t need to finish my sentence. We could picture, all too well, how this information would start the squabbling and the distrust and the suspicion all over again.
“Very well,” said Alake.
The thought of Haplo being in danger had won her over, of course. I regarded Devon with newfound admiration. Eliason had been right. Elves did make good diplomats.
“We’ll do it,” Alake said. “But when? And how?” Trust a human. Always had to have a plan.
“We’ll have to wait and watch for a time,” Devon said. “There’s bound to be opportunity on the trip.”
A sudden, horrible thought struck me. “What if the dolphins tell our parents what they told us?”
“We’ll have to watch them, see that they don’t talk to our parents or anyone else for that matter,” said Alake, after a moment’s pondering, during which none of us came up with anything more helpful. “With any luck, our people will be too busy to take time out to gossip.”
A forlorn hope. I didn’t mention that it was not only probable but logical that our parents would ask the dolphins for information before we set out on the journey. I was surprised they hadn’t thought to do it yet, but I guess they had more important things on their minds—like fish oil. We all agreed to keep close watch, be ready with arguments in case we failed. Alake was to warn Haplo, discreetly, without giving anything away, that it might be best if no one spoke to dolphins for a while.
After that, we parted, to make preparations for the great journey and to begin keeping an eye on our parents.
It’s a good thing they have us around. I’ve got to go. More later.[44]
25
His dog was with Alfred.
There was no doubt in Haplo’s mind that the dog the dolphins mentioned was his dog and it was with Alfred. The thought irritated Haplo, bothered him more than he cared to admit, rankled like a poisoned barb in his flesh. He found himself thinking about the dog when he should have been concentrating on more important matters—such as the journey ahead, the war against the Sartan.
“It’s only a damn dog,” he told himself.
Elves and dwarves were boarding their submersibles, preparing to travel back to their homelands and ready their people for the great Sun Chase. Haplo stayed with them until the last possible moment, reassuring the dwarves, prodding the elves to action, solving problems both real and imaginary. They hadn’t all agreed to go to war, not yet. But he was leading them toward it, gently, without their being aware of his intent. And Haplo had little doubt that the Sartan would finish whatever it was he started.
The humans, with typical human impetuosity, wanted to sail the submersibles to Surunan directly, land their people on the shore, and then open up negotiations.
“We will be arguing from a position of strength,” stated Dumaka. “The Sartan will see our numbers, see that we have already established a foothold. They will see, too, that we arrive in peace with peaceful intent. They will look out over the walls of their city and see women and children ...”
“They’ll look out over their walls and see an army,” Yngvar growled. “They’ll grab their axes first and think about talking later.”
“I agree with Yngvar,” said Eliason. “We don’t want to intimidate these Sartan. I suggest that we halt the fleet near Surunan, close enough for the Sartan to see our ships and be impressed by our numbers, but far enough away that they do not feel threatened. . . .”
“And what’s wrong with a little threatening?” Dumaka argued. “I suppose you elves plan to go groveling and crawling in on your bellies, prepared to wash their feet.”
“Certainly not. We elves know how to behave politely, present our proposals in a civilized manner without loss of dignity.”
“Now you’re saying we humans are not civilized!” Dumaka flared.
“If the boot fits . . .” Yngvar began, at which point Haplo intervened.
“I think it would be best to go with Eliason’s plan. What if, as Yngvar suggests, the Sartan decided to attack? You’d have your families strung out on the beaches, defenseless. Far better to keep on board the ships. There’s a place to moor the submersibles not far from Draknor, where the dragon-snakes live.
“Don’t worry,” Haplo added hastily, noting the scowls that met this proposal, “you won’t be that close to the snakes. You can take advantage of their air bubble to bring your ships to the surface. And by the time you reach this point, you’ll be glad to breathe fresh air again. Once you’re here, you ask the Sartan for a meeting, and then open negotiations.” His plan was accepted. Haplo smiled quietly. He could almost certainly count on the mensch to talk themselves into trouble.
Which brought him to his next topic of conversation: weapons. In particular, magical elven weapons.
No weapon made by mensch, magic or otherwise, could stand up against the power of the Sartan rune-magic. But Haplo had devised a plan that would make everyone equal, a plan that would, in fact, give the mensch the edge. He hadn’t told anyone about his plan yet, not the mensch, not even his allies, the dragon-snakes. Too much was at stake: victory over the ancient enemy, Samah helpless and at the Patryn’s mercy. Haplo would tell everyone when they needed to know and not a moment before.
Although no elf living could remember a time of warfare, the magical weapons they’d once developed were celebrated in story and legend. Eliason knew all about them, described them all to Haplo. The two of them endeavored to determine which weapons the elves could manufacture swiftly, which weapons they could learn to use effectively—or at least learn how to inflict more damage on an enemy than on themselves.
After some discussion, Haplo and Eliason settled on the bow and arrow. The elven king was quite enamored of archery—a sport still used by some elves as a form of entertainment at parties. The magical arrows hit whatever target they were ordered to hit after being fired and therefore aim wasn’t all that critical.
The humans were already skilled in the use of bow and arrow, plus numerous other weapons. And although their weapons weren’t magically enhanced (nor would the humans use elven weapons, considering them suitable only for weaklings), the Coven had the power to summon the elements to assist in the battle.
This point settled, the Gargans, Phondrans, and Elmas took friendly leave of each other. Dwarves and elves sailed off to their homelands, and Haplo breathed a sigh of relief.
Walking back to his lodge, he was thinking to himself that, at last, everything seemed to be working out.
“Haplo,” said Alake. “May I speak with you? It’s about the dolphins.” He glanced at her impatiently, irritated at the interruption. “Yes? What about them?”
Alake bit her lip, looked abashed. “It’s urgent,” she said softly, in apology.
“Otherwise I wouldn’t bother you. I know what important matters you have on your mind ...”