More than once, he caught her trailing after him, staring at him, her expression grave and thoughtful, as if she was having difficulty making up her mind about him. And when she discovered him looking at her, she’d give him an abrupt nod or shake her side whiskers at him, turn around, and stump off. Alake had said Grundle didn’t believe the dolphins. Apparently, Alake’d been wrong.
Haplo didn’t waste time trying to argue with the dwarf. After all, what the dolphins had told the young people was true. He was using the mensch. He spent most of his waking hours with them, molding them, shaping them, leading them to do what he wanted. His task wasn’t easy. The mensch, terrified of their dragon-snake allies, might come to greatly admire the would-be enemy. This was Haplo’s one fear, the one toss of the rune-bone that would end his game. If the Sartan welcomed the mensch with open arms, clasped them to their bosoms, so to speak, Haplo was finished. He’d escape, of course. The dragon-snakes would see to that. But he’d have to go back to the Nexus empty-handed, make a humiliating report to his lord.
Faced with that choice, Haplo wasn’t certain he would go back at all. Better to die . . .
Time passed quickly, even for the Patryn, impatient to at last meet his greatest foe. He was lying in his bed when he heard a grinding sound, felt a jolt pass through the ship. Voices cried out in alarm, only to be reassured the next moment by their king.
The submersibles floated upward, broke through the water. Open air and sunshine—bright sunshine—surrounded them.
The sun-chasers had caught the sun.
26
Alfred spent most of his day and a greater portion of his night listening to the echo of the conversation he’d overheard between Samah and his son. He heard it all, over and over again in his mind, but one portion kept returning to him, louder and more persistent than the rest.
We should do to him what we did to the others.
What others?
Those who had discovered that they were not gods, that they were (or should be) worshipers? Those who had found out that the Sartan were not the sun, but just another planet? What had happened to them? Where were they?
He glanced around, almost as if he expected to find them sitting in Orla’s garden. The heretics weren’t in Chelestra. They weren’t on the Council. Despite the fact that there was some division, the Council members, with the exception of Orla, appeared to be solidly behind Samah.
Perhaps all Ramu meant was that the heretics had been counseled, finally converted back to proper Sartan ways of thinking. This was a comforting thought, and Alfred wanted very much to believe it. He spent almost an entire hour convincing himself it must be true. That nagging unfortunate part of him that seemed to be always going off on its own (and taking his feet with it) argued that he was, as usual, refusing to face reality.
The internal argument was wearing, left him worn out and unhappy. He was tired of it, tired of being by himself, forced to argue with himself. He was immeasurably cheered at the sight of Orla entering the garden in search of him.
It had seemed to Alfred as if she had been avoiding him.
“Ah, here you are.” Orla spoke briskly, impersonally. She might have been talking to the dog, snoozing at Alfred’s feet. The animal opened an eye to see who was here, yawned, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
Startled by Orla’s detached tone, Alfred sighed. She obviously loathed him now. He supposed he couldn’t really blame her.
“Yes, I’m here,” he replied. “Where did you think I would be—the library?” Orla flushed in anger, then paled. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said, after a moment. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“No, I’m the one who is sorry,” Alfred said, appalled at himself. “I don’t know what’s come over me. Won’t you please sit down?”
“No, thank you,” Orla said, her flush deepening. “I can’t stay. I came to tell you that we’ve received a message from the mensch. They have arrived on Draknor.” Her voice hardened. “They want to arrange a meeting.”
“What is Draknor? One of the durnai?”
“Yes, poor creature. The durnai were meant to hibernate until the seasun drifted away, then we would wake them and they would follow it. Most durnai, after we left, never woke up. I doubt if even the mensch, who have lived on the durnai all this time, are aware that they have been living on a living being.
“Unfortunately, the dragon-snakes realized at once that the durnai were alive. They attacked one, woke it, and have tormented the durnai ever since. According to the dolphins, the dragon-snakes have devoured it slowly, gnawed at it bit by bit. It lives in perpetual agony and fear.
“Yes,” Orla added, seeing Alfred grow pale with horror. “It is these creatures who have allied themselves with your Patryn friend. And with the mensch.” Alfred was sickened. He glanced down at the dog, slumbering peacefully. “I can’t believe it. Not even of Haplo. He is a Patryn—ambitious, hard, cold. But he’s not a coward. He’s not cruel. He takes no delight in tormenting the helpless, he does not enjoy inflicting pain.”
“Yet he is there, in Draknor, and the mensch are with him. But they won’t be content to stay there. They want to move here, to this realm.” Orla looked around her garden, lush and beautiful in night’s soft darkness. “That is what this meeting is about.”
“Well, of course, they can’t stay on Draknor. It must be dreadful. There is plenty of room for them here,” said Alfred, feeling more cheerful than he had in days.
He was actually looking forward to being in company with the mensch again. They might be quarrelsome, disruptive, but they were interesting. Then he saw the expression on Orla’s face.
“You do plan to let them move onto Surunan, don’t you?” he asked. He saw the answer in her eyes, and stared at her, appalled. “I can’t believe it! You’d turn them away?”
“It isn’t the mensch, Alfred,” Orla said. “It’s those who are with them. The Patryn. He’s asked to come to the meeting.”
“Haplo?” Alfred repeated in astonishment.
At the sound of the name, the dog sprang to its feet, ears pricked, eyes searching.
“There, there,” said Alfred, petting the animal, calming its excitement.
“There, there. He’s not here now. Not yet.”
The dog gave a little whimper, and settled back down, nose on paws.
“Haplo, coming to a meeting of the Sartan,” Alfred mused, disquieted by the news. “He must be very confident, to reveal himself to you. Of course, you already know he’s on Chelestra, and he’s probably aware that you know. Still, this isn’t like him.”
“Confident!” Orla snapped. “Of course he’s confident! He’s got the dragon-snakes, not to mention several thousand mensch warriors—”
“But perhaps the mensch only want to live in peace,” Alfred suggested.
“Do you honestly believe that?” Orla looked at him in wonder. “Can you be that naive?”
“I admit I’m not as wise or as intelligent as the rest of you,” Alfred stated humbly. “But shouldn’t you at least listen to what they have to say?”
“Of course the Council will listen to them. That’s why Samah has agreed to the meeting. And he wants you to be present. He sent me to tell you.”
“Then you didn’t come to me on your own,” Alfred said softly, staring down at his shoes. “I was right. You have been avoiding me. No, don’t worry about it. I understand. I’ve made things difficult enough for you. It’s just that I missed talking to you, I missed hearing your voice. I missed”—he lifted his eyes—“looking at you.”
“Alfred, please, don’t. I’ve said this to you before—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I think it would be a good idea if I left this house, perhaps even left Chelestra.”