Beaching the vessel, Haplo jumped from the deck to the shore, being careful to avoid getting his feet wet. He landed safely on the white sand, took a moment to get his bearings.
The beach extended several leagues before him. Tall rock formations, their jagged peaks black against the Goodsea, rose up out of the sand. Odd mountains, Haplo thought, eyeing them with disgust. They reminded him of gnawed and broken bones. He glanced around, wondering where the dragon-snakes were. His gaze glanced across a dark opening in the side of one of the mountains. A cave.
Haplo began to walk across the deserted, barren beach. The sigla on his skin burned like fire.
The three mensch sailed into the cove so close behind Haplo they were practically nose to rudder. Once there, however, they kept their distance. Peering with difficulty through the dark water, they saw the Patryn beach his ship, watched him jump out, then stop and look around, as if wondering which way to go.
Apparently, he made a decision. He started walking purposefully along the shoreline.
When he was out of earshot, the three guided their small submersible into shore, tied it to a formation of coral that thrust up out of the water like “a finger, warning us away,” Grundle said.
The three laughed.
They waded through the shallow water, forced to hurry to keep Haplo in sight. Tailing him was easy. The Patryn’s skin gave off a radiant blue glow. They crept after him silently.
Or rather, Devon crept after Haplo silently. The elf glided over the sand with graceful ease, treading so lightly his feet never seemed to touch the ground. Grundle fondly imagined she was emulating Devon, and she did manage to move quietly—for a dwarf. Her thick boots clumped, her breath came in wheezing huffs, and she only spoke when she should have kept quiet half—a-dozen times. Alake could move nearly as softly as the elf, but she had forgotten, in the excitement of the moment, to take off her ear-jangles and her beads. One of her magic spells required a small silver bell, wrapped in a pouch. Alake slipped once, the bell gave out a small, muffled ring.
The three froze, holding their breaths, certain Haplo must have heard them. The only fear that the no-fear weed had not been able to dispel was the fear that the Patryn would catch them and send them home.
Haplo kept walking. He obviously hadn’t heard. The three breathed a sigh of relief and continued on.
That the dragon-snakes might have heard them was a thought that never crossed their minds.
Haplo came to a dead standstill outside the cavern. He’d only experienced terror like this once before, standing with his lord outside the Gate of the Labyrinth. His lord had been able to enter.
Haplo had not.
“Enter, Patryn,” hissed a voice from the darkness. “Have no fear. We bow before you.”
Sigla flared red and blue on Haplo’s skin, its light illuminating the darkness beyond. Comforted more by the sight of the power of his magic than by the serpent’s assurance, Haplo walked to the cavern’s opening.
Looking in, he saw them.
The light of his runes reflected off the dragon-snakes’ shining scales. Their bodies were draped over each other in a hideous, tangled coil, making it impossible to tell where one left off and the other began.
It seemed that most were asleep, for their eyes were closed. Haplo moved silently as a Patryn learns to move in the Labyrinth, but he had barely set foot in the cavern when two of the slit red eyes opened, fixed their red-green gaze upon him.
“Patryn,” the king snake said. “Master. You honor us with your presence. Please, come closer.”
Haplo did as the serpent requested, the sigla on his skin itching and burning, nearly driving him wild. He scratched the back of his hand. The reptile’s giant head loomed over him; its body remained resting comfortably on the back of one of its neighbors.
“How did the meeting go between the mensch and the Sartan?” the dragon-snake asked, blinking its eyes lazily.
“As well as you might expect,” Haplo said shortly. He intended to explain his plan, give the snakes their orders, then depart. He loathed these creatures.
“The Sartan—”
“Pardon me,” the serpent interrupted, “but could we speak human? We find that conversing in your language wearies us. Admittedly the human language is crude and awkward, but it does have its moments. If you don’t mind. . . .” Haplo did mind. He didn’t like it, wondered what was behind this sudden change. They’d spoken his language well enough the first time they’d met, spoken it at length. He considered refusing, just to assert his own authority, decided that was pointless. What did it matter what language they talked? He didn’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary.
“Very well,” he said, and continued to explain his plans, speaking the human tongue.
The three mensch watched Haplo enter the cave. His skin was a bright, flaring blue.
“That must be where the snakes live,” exclaimed Grundle.
“Hush!” Devon clapped his hand over her mouth.
“We can’t go in after him,” Alake whispered, worried.
“Maybe there’s a back entrance.”
The three circled around the side of the mountain. They poked and prodded among huge, fallen boulders. Walking was treacherous. The ground was wet and slick with a dark liquid that oozed out of the rocks. They stumbled and fell, Grundle cursed beneath her breath.
The mountainside was covered with huge gouges. “As if something had taken large bites out of it,” Alake said. But none of these gouges led them inside the cavern.
Growing discouraged, they were about to give up when, suddenly, they found exactly what they’d hoped to find.
A small tunnel opened directly into the side of the mountain. The three crept in, examined it. The cave was dry, the way smooth and easy to travel.
“I hear voices!” Grundle said excitedly. “It’s Haplo!” She listened closely, her eyes grew wide. “And I can understand what he’s saying. I’ve learned to speak his language!”
“That’s because he’s speaking human,” said Alake. Devon hid his smile. “At least now we’ll know what they’re saying. I wonder if we can get any closer.”
“Let’s follow this,” said Grundle, pointing. “It seems to be heading the right way.”
The three entered the tunnel which, by the most remarkable chance, appeared to lead them exactly the direction they wanted to go. They hurried along it eagerly. Haplo’s voice became louder and clearer to them each moment, as did the voices of the dragon-snakes. The sides of the tunnel gave off a lovely, phosphorescent glow, lighting their way. "You know,” said Alake, pleased, “it’s almost as if this had been constructed exactly for us.”
“So this means war,” the dragon-snake said.
“Did you have any doubts, Royal One?” Haplo gave a brief laugh.
“Some, I must admit. The Sartan are unpredictable. There are those of their race who are truly selfless, who would welcome the mensch with arms outstretched, would take them into their own dwellings, even though it meant they went without a roof above their heads.”
“Samah isn’t one of those,” said Haplo.
“No, we never supposed he was.”
The dragon-snake seemed to smile, though how it was possible for the reptilian face to alter expression was beyond Haplo.
“And when will the mensch attack?” the dragon-snake pursued.
“That’s what I came to talk to you about, Royal One. I want to make a suggestion. I know this doesn’t go along with the plan we originally discussed, but I think this will work out better. All we have to do—to defeat the Sartan—is flood their city with sea water.”
Haplo explained, in much the same terms as he had explained it to the mensch.
“The seawater will nullify their magic, leave them easy prey for the mensch. . . .”
“Who can then go in and slaughter them indiscriminately. We approve.” The dragon-snake nodded its head lazily.