Several of its neighbors opened their eyes, blinked in sleepy agreement.
“The mensch won’t slaughter anyone. I was thinking more in terms of surrender—total and unconditional. And I don’t want the Sartan to die. I intend to take Samah and maybe a few more back to my lord for questioning. It would be helpful if they were alive enough to answer,” the Patryn concluded wryly.
The slit eyes narrowed dangerously. Haplo tensed, wary.
The serpent sounded almost jocular, however. “And what would the mensch do with the sodden Sartan?”
“By the time the water drains away and the Sartan have dried out, the mensch will have moved onto Surunan. The Sartan will have a tough time evicting several thousand or so humans, elves, and dwarves who have already set up housekeeping. And then, of course, the mensch, with your assistance, Royal One, could always threaten to open the seagates and flood the city again.”
“We would be curious to know why you formulated such a plan, in opposition to our own. What did you find wrong with forcing the mensch into open warfare?” The hissing voice was cold, its tone lethal. Haplo couldn’t understand. What was wrong?
“These mensch can’t fight,” he explained. “They haven’t fought a war in who knows how long? Oh, the humans skirmish among themselves, but hardly anyone gets hurt. The Sartan, even without their magic, could inflict serious casualties. I think my way is better, easier. That’s all.” The dragon-snake lifted its head slightly, slid its body down off its reptile pillow, and slithered across the cavern floor toward Haplo. He stood his ground, kept his gaze fixed firmly on the slit red eyes. Instinct told him that to give in to his fear, to turn and run, would mean his death. His only chance was to face this out, try to discover whatever it was the serpents were truly after.
The flat, toothless head halted an arm’s length from him.
“Since when,” asked the dragon-snake, “does a Patryn care how mensch live ... or how they die?”
A shudder went through Haplo, starting at the core of his being, twisting his insides. He opened his mouth, was about to make some reply.
“Wait!” the dragon-snake hissed. “What have we here?” A form began to coalesce out of the dank cavern air. It shimmered and shifted, faded in, faded out again, wavering either in its magic or in its decision or perhaps some of both.
The dragon-snake watched with interest, though Haplo noted it slid back, moved nearer the knot of its fellows.
The Patryn saw enough of the wavering figure to know who it was—the one person he didn’t need. What the devil was he doing here? Perhaps it’s a trick. Perhaps Samah sent him.
Alfred stepped out of thin air. He glanced around vaguely, eyes blinking in the darkness, and immediately spotted Haplo.
“I’m so glad I found you!” Alfred sighed in relief. “You can’t imagine how difficult that spell is—”
“What do you want?” Haplo demanded, tense, on edge.
“I’m returning your dog,” said Alfred cheerfully, with a wave of his hand at the animal materializing in the air behind him.
“If I’d wanted the beast, which I don’t, I would have come for it myself—” The dog, being somewhat quicker on the uptake than Alfred, caught sight of the dragon-snakes. It began to bark in wild, frantic alarm.
Alfred realized, apparently for the first time, where his magic had taken him. The dragon-snakes were now all wide awake. Bodies writhing, they loosed themselves from their tangled knot with slippery speed.
“Oh . . . m-m-my gracious,” stammered Alfred, and dropped to the ground in a dead faint.
The king dragon-snake’s head darted toward the dog.
Haplo leapt over the comatose body of the Sartan, caught hold of the animal by the scruff of its neck.
“Dog, quiet!” he commanded.
The dog whined, looked at Haplo plaintively, as if uncertain of its welcome. The dragon-snake pulled back.
The Patryn jerked a thumb in Alfred’s direction. “Go to him. Keep an eye on your friend.”
The dog obeyed, first casting a threatening glance at the dragon-snakes, warning them to keep their distance. Padding over to Alfred, the animal began to lick the Sartan’s face.
“Does that annoying creature belong to you?” asked the dragon-snake.
“It used to, Royal One,” Haplo stated. “But now it’s his.”
“Indeed.” The serpent’s slit eyes flared, quickly cooled. “It still seems attached to you.”
“Forget the damn dog!” Haplo snarled, patience wearing thin, rubbed by his fear. “We were discussing my plan. Will you—”
“We discuss nothing in the presence of the Sartan,” interrupted the dragon-snake.
“You mean Alfred? But he’s out cold!”
“He is very dangerous,” hissed the dragon-snake.
“Yeah,” said Haplo, looking at the Sartan, lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
The dog was licking Alfred’s bald head.
“And he seems to know you quite well.”
Haplo’s skin prickled with danger. Damn and blast that fool Sartan anyway! I should have killed him when I had the chance. I will kill him, my very next opportunity . . .
“Kill him now,” said the dragon-snake.
Haplo tensed, stared grimly at the creatures. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he may have been sent to spy on me. And if he was, I want to know why, who sent him, what he planned to do. You should want to know, too, since you think he’s so dangerous.”
“It matters little to us. And he is dangerous, but we can take care of ourselves. He is a danger to you, Patryn. He is the Serpent Mage. Do not let him live! Kill him . . . now.”
“You call me ‘master,’” said Haplo coolly. “And yet you’re giving me orders. Only one man, my lord, has such power over me. Someday perhaps, I will kill the Sartan, but that day will come in my own time, at my own choosing.” The red-green flame in the serpent’s eyes was almost blinding. Haplo’s own eyes burned and stung. He fought the impulse to blink. If once he looked away, he had the feeling he would see nothing but his own death.
Then suddenly it was dark. The dragon-snake’s eyelids closed over the flame.
“We are concerned solely for your own well-being, Master. Of course, you know best. Perhaps, as you suggest, it would be wise to question him. You may do so now.”
“He won’t talk if you’re around. In fact, he won’t regain consciousness if you’re around,” Haplo added. “If you don’t mind, Royal One, I’ll just take him out. . . .”
Moving slowly, purposefully, keeping an eye on the dragon-snake, Haplo took hold of Alfred’s flaccid arms and hefted the man, who was no lightweight. Haplo positioned the Sartan’s limp body on his shoulder.
“I’ll carry him to my boat. If I find out anything from him, I’ll let you know.”
The dragon-snake’s head weaved back and forth slowly, sinuously. Debating whether or not to let me go, Haplo thought. He wondered what he’d do if the snake refused, ordered him to stay. He supposed he could throw Alfred to them. . . .
The snake’s eyes closed, flared open. “Very well. In the meantime, we will confer on your plan.”
“Take all the time you need,” Haplo grunted. He had no intention of coming back. He started out the cave.
“Pardon me, Patryn,” said the dragon-snake, “but you seem to have forgotten your dog.”
Haplo hadn’t forgotten. That had been his plan. Leave the animal behind, let it act as his ears for him. He glanced back at the dragon-snakes. They knew.
“Dog, come here.”
Haplo clasped his arm around Alfred’s legs. The Sartan dangled down the Patryn’s back, arms flopping like some ungainly, grotesque doll. The dog trotted along after them, now and then giving the Sartan’s hand a comforting lick.
Once outside the cave, Haplo sighed deeply, wiped his forehead with his hand. He was unnerved to find himself shaking.
Devon, Alake, and Grundle arrived at the tunnel’s outlet in time to see Alfred stumble out of the air. Crouching prudently in the shadows, concealed behind several large boulders, the three watched and listened.