Serpent Mage

by Margaret Weis

  “It seems a pity it must all end,” Alake said softly, her eyes glimmering.

  Yes, it was a pity, Haplo caught himself thinking. He tried to shake off the thought, but he could not deny that in this place, with these people, he felt at peace and relaxed for the first time in a very long time.

  It was merely a reaction to his fear, he decided. A reaction to the initial terror of the dragon-snakes, to the even greater terror of believing he'd lost his magic.

  I must have been weaker than I knew. I'll use this time to regain my strength, for I'll soon need it. When I face the ancient enemy. When we go to war against the Sartan.

  There's nothing I can do to hurry it, anyway, he told himself. It won't do to offend these mensch. I need them, need their numbers, if not necessarily their skill at arms.

  He had been thinking a lot about the forthcoming battle. The elves would be worse than useless. He must find something for them to do, keep them out of the way. The humans were warriors, trained and skilled and easily roused to blood lust. The dwarves, from what he had gathered from talking to Grundle, were solid, tough. Slow to anger, but that wouldn't be a problem. Haplo thought it likely that the Sartan would inadvertently provide all the provocation he needed.

  His only concern was that these Sartan might prove to be like Alfred. Haplo considered the matter briefly, shook his head. No, from what he knew of Samah, from the records left in the Nexus, the Councillor was as different from Alfred as the light and lush world of air differed from the dark, smothering world of stone.

  “I'm sorry, but I must leave you alone for a time …”

  Alake was saying something to him, something about having to go to her mother. She was looking at him anxiously, fearful of offending him.

  Haplo smiled at her. “I'll be fine on my own. And you don't have to worry about entertaining me, much as I enjoy your company. I'll just look around.” He waved a hand. “Get to know your people.”

  “You like us, don't you?” asked Alake, returning his smile.

  “Yes,” said Haplo and only when the word was spoken did he realize he meant it. “Yes, I like your people, Alake. They remind me … of someplace I was, once.”

  He fell silent, abruptly, not particularly welcoming some of the memories, yet oddly grateful to greet them after a long absence.

  “She must have been very beautiful,” said Alake, somewhat downcast.

  Haplo looked up at her swiftly. Women! Mensch, Patryn, all alike. What gave them that uncanny ability to crawl inside a man's skull, inside the dark places he thought hidden to all?

  “She was,” he said, and he hadn't meant to say that either. It was this place. Too much like home. “You'd better run along. Your mother will be wondering where you are.”

  “I'm sorry if I hurt you,” she said softly. Reaching out her hand, she touched his, clasped his fingers.

  Her skin was smooth and soft, her hand strong. His fingers tightened over hers, he drew her hand closer, not thinking what he was doing. Only knowing that she was beautiful and she warmed some cold part of him.

  “A little pain is good for us,” he said to her. “Reminds us we're alive.”

  She didn't understand, but she was reassured by his manner, and left him. Haplo's gaze followed her until the hungry, lonely ache inside him made him feel just a little bit too much alive for comfort.

  Standing up, stretching in the warm sun, he went off to join the young warriors in the hunt.

  The hunt was long, exciting, strenuous. Whatever beast it was—and Haplo never did catch the name—was cunning, vicious, and savage. The Patryn deliberately refused to use his magic. He found he enjoyed the hard, physical exertion, enjoyed pitting wits and muscle against an enemy.

  The stalking and chasing lasted for hours, the kill itself, involving nets and spears, was tense and danger-edged. Several of the men were injured; one came close to being gored by the swordlike horn on top of the brutish head. Haplo flung himself on the young man, dragged him out of harm's way. The horn grazed the Patryn's skin but, protected as he was by the runes, did no true damage.

  Haplo had never been in any danger, but the humans didn't know that and acclaimed him the hero of the day. At the end of the hunt, when the young men returned, singing, to the camp, he enjoyed their comradeship, the feeling that he was, once again, one with a community.

  This feeling wouldn't last long. It never had in the Labyrinth. He was a Runner. He would grow restless and uneasy, chafe against walls only he could see. But for now, he permitted himself the pleasure.

  “I'm building up their confidence in me, their trust.” That was his excuse. Pleasantly weary, he walked back to his hut, planning to lie down and rest before tonight's feasting. “These men will follow me anywhere, now. Even to war against a far superior enemy.”

  He lay on his pallet, the warm ache of fatigue relaxing his muscles and his mind. A unwelcome thought occurred to him—his lord's instructions.

  You are to be an observer. Take no action that might give yourself away as a Patryn. Do not alert the enemy to our presence.

  But the Lord of the Nexus could not have foreseen that Haplo would run into Samah the Councillor. Samah, the Sartan who had imprisoned the Patryns in the Labyrinth. Samah, who had been responsible for the deaths, the sufferings, the torments endured by Haplo's people through countless generations.

  “When I return, it will be with Samah, and my lord will once again trust me and think of me as his son …”

  Haplo must have fallen asleep, for he jerked awake, alarmed, aware of someone inside his hut with him. He reacted swiftly, instinctively, and startled Alake, who took an involuntary step or two back away from him.

  “I'm … sorry,” muttered Haplo, seeing, by the lambent light of the campfires outside his hut, who it was. “I didn't mean to jump at you. You took me by surprise, that's all.”

  “Never disturb the sleeping tiger,” said Alake. “So my father says. I called out and you answered, but you must have been dreaming. I'm sorry for waking you. I will leave …”

  Yes, it had been a dream. Haplo was still trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

  “No, don't go.”

  The dream lurked, on the fringes of his mind. He wasn't anxious to let it get at him again.

  “That smells good,” he said, sniffing at savory odors drifting on the soft night air.

  “I brought you some food,” Alake said, gesturing outdoors. The Phondrans never ate inside the lodge, but always out in the open—a sensible precaution, one that kept the dwellings clean and free of rodents. “You missed supper and I thought… that is, my mother thought… you might be hungry.”

  “I am. Tell your mother thank you very much for her thoughtfulness,” said Haplo gravely.

  Alake smiled, pleased to have pleased him. She was always doing something for him, bringing him food, small gifts, something she'd made herself….

  “You have upset your pallet. I will straighten it for you.”

  She took a step forward. Haplo was walking toward the lodge entrance. Somehow, the two managed to collide. Before Haplo knew what was happening, soft arms encircled him, soft lips sought his, warmth and fragrance surrounded him.

  Haplo's body reacted before his brain could take control. He was half in the Labyrinth, still. The girl was more a part of his dream than reality. He kissed her hard, fiercely, his passion that of a man, forgetting he held a child. He pressed her close, started to draw her down on his pallet.

  Alake gave a faint, scared gasp.

  Haplo's brain took charge, jerked him to his senses.

  “Get out!” he ordered, thrusting Alake roughly away from him.

  She stood, shivering, in the doorway, staring at him. She'd been unprepared for the ardence of his passion, perhaps unprepared for her own body's response to what had before been maiden dreams and fantasies. She was frightened of him, frightened of herself. But she had come to know, suddenly, her own power.

  “You love me!” she whispered.
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  “No, I don't,” Haplo returned harshly.

  “You kissed me …”

  “Alake—” Haplo began, exasperated, then stopped.

  He swallowed the cold, callous words he'd been ready to speak. It wouldn't do to hurt the girl, who would almost assuredly go weeping to her mother. He couldn't afford to offend the rulers of the Phondrans and, as much as it irritated him to admit it, he didn't want to hurt Alake. What had happened had been his own damn fault.

  “Alake,” he began again, lamely, “I'm too old. I'm not even your race …”

  Then what are you? You're not elven or dwarven …”

  I belong to people beyond your comprehension, child. A race of demigods, who might stoop to take a mensch for a toy, but would never take one for a wife.

  “I can't explain, Alake. But, you know I'm different. Look at me! Look at the color of my skin. My hair and eyes. And I'm a stranger. You know nothing about me.”

  “I know all I need to know,” the girl said softly. “I know that you saved my life …”

  “You saved mine.”

  She drew nearer, her eyes warm and glowing. “You are brave, the bravest man I've ever known. And handsome. Yes, you are different, but that is what makes you special. And you may be old, but I am old, too, for my years. Boys my own age bore me.”

  She reached out for him. Haplo kept his hands at his sides.

  “Alake,” he said, able at last to think rationally, saying what he should have said in the first place, “your parents would never approve.”

  “They might,” she faltered.

  “No.” Haplo shook his head. “They will repeat everything that I have said to you. They would be angry and they would have a right to be angry. You are a royal daughter. Your marriage is very important to your people. You have responsibilities. You must marry a chieftain or a chieftain's son. I'm nobody, Alake.”

  She drooped. Her head bowed, her shoulders shook.

  Tears glimmered on her lashes. “You kissed me,” she murmured.

  “Yes, I couldn't help myself. You are very beautiful, Alake.”

  She lifted her head, looked at him, her heart in her eyes. “There will be a way. You will see. The One will not keep two who love each other apart. No,” she said, raising a hand, “you need have no fear. I understand, and I will not tell my father or my mother. I will say nothing of this to anyone. It will be our secret, until the One shows me how we may be together.”

  She gave him a soft, tremulous kiss on his cheek, then turned and fled from his lodge.

  Haplo stared after her, frustrated, angry at her, at himself, at the absurd circumstances that had dumped him into this situation. Would she keep her word, say nothing to her parents? He considered going after her, but he had no idea what he'd say. How could he tell her that he hadn't been kissing her, that he'd been kissing a memory conjured by his surroundings, the hunt, the dream?

  1The people of the Labyrinth can be divided generally into two groups: the Runners and the Squatters, The Runners are those who, like Haplo, seek to escape the Labyrinth. They travel alone; their lives are restless, short. The Squatters have banded together to form tribes for protection and to provide for the continuance of the race. They are nomadic, but do not move as fast or far as the Runners. Survival, not escape, is their primary goal.

  HAPLO WAS ON HIS GUARD THE NEXT CYCLE, WAITING FOR the look or sign indicating Dumaka had discovered his guest trifling with his daughter's affections.

  But Alake was true to her word, proving stronger than Haplo had suspected. When she was in his company (a circumstance Haplo went out of his way to avoid, but sometimes couldn't help), Alake was demure, polite, proper. She no longer brought him little presents, no longer selected the choicest morsels from the cooking pot for his pleasure.

  And then he had other problems to worry about.

  The dwarven contingent arrived on the twelfth cycle. Yngvar brought a large group, consisting of the Elders and several military officers.

  The dwarves were welcomed formally by Dumaka, his wife, members of the tribal council and the Coven. A nearby cave, whose cool chambers were used for storing fruits and vegetables and a rather remarkable wine made by the humans, was cleared out and turned over to the dwarves for the duration of their stay on Phondra. As Yngvar told Haplo, no dwarf could sleep soundly beneath a roof covered with grass. He wanted the feel of something substantial—like a mountain—over his head.

  Haplo was glad to see the dwarves. Their arrival took unwanted attention away from him and it meant that the time for action was that much nearer. Haplo was ready for action now, the incident with Alake having effectively managed to dispel his lapse into idyllic euphoria.

  He was eager for news, and the dwarves brought some.

  “The dragon-snakes are rebuilding the sun-chasers,” stated Yngvar. “As he said they would.” The dwarf gave a nod toward Haplo.

  The heads of the royal houses met privately together after dinner. Formal discussions, involving all members of the respective governments, would not take place until the elves arrived. Haplo had been invited, because he was a guest. He took care to keep out of the conversation, watched and listened quietly.

  “These are good tidings,” said Dumaka.

  The dwarf twisted his beard, frowning.

  “What is wrong, Yngvar? Is the work progressing too slowly? Is it slipshod? Ill done?”

  “Oh, it's done well enough,” the dwarven king grumbled. He shifted one leg out from beneath the other, trying, in vain, to make himself comfortable.2 “It's how it's done that bothers me. Magic.”

  He grunted, rolled over on one rump, groaned, and began to rub his leg. “I mean no offense, ma'am,” he added, nodding brusquely at Delu, who had bristled at his disparaging tone, black eyes flashing indignantly. “We've been through this before. You elves and humans know how we dwarves feel about magic. We know how you feel. We have come, thank the One, to both respect each other's thinking and not try to change it. And if I had thought that either of your magics or both would have salvaged the sun-chasers, I would have been the first to suggest using it.”

  The dwarf's eyes narrowed, he forgot his discomfort. “But those ships were broken into a thousand bits. A thou-

  sand, thousand bits, if you will. I could have sat on the largest piece of all that was left and it would have been no more to me than a splinter in my arse!”

  “My dear,” rebuked his wife, flushing. “You're not in the tavern.”

  “Yes, yes. We understand. Go on,” persisted Dumaka impatiently. “What are you saying? The work is progressing or it isn't?”

  Yngvar was not to be hurried, despite the fact that his toes had gone numb. He rose abruptly to his feet, marched over to what appeared to be a large ceremonial drum, and plopped himself down on it with a sigh of relief. Delu looked considerably shocked; her husband silenced her words of protest with a look, “The work,” said the dwarf slowly, glowering from beneath his bushy eyebrows, “is finished.”

  “What?” Dumaka exclaimed.

  “The ships were built”—Yngvar snapped his fingers— “in less time than it took me to do that.”

  Haplo smiled, well pleased.

  “That is not possible,” argued Delu. “You must be mistaken. Our most powerful sorcerers—”

  “—are as children compared to these dragon-snakes,” stated Yngvar bluntly. “I am not mistaken. I have never seen such magic. The sun-chasers were so many splinters, floating on the water. The dragon-snakes came up to look at the ships, surrounded them. Their green eyes glowed red, brighter than the furnace in which we forge our axes. They spoke strange words. The sea boiled. The pieces of wood flew into the air and, as if one knew another, rushed together as a bride rushes to the arms of her groom. And there they stand—the sun-chasers. Exactly as we built them. Except that now”—the dwarf added, glowering—“none of my people will go near them. And that includes me.”

  Haplo's satisfaction turned instantly to gloom. Damn! Another pr
oblem! He should have foreseen the mensch reaction. As it was, even Delu looked troubled.

  “This truly is a wondrous feat,” she said in a low voice. “I would like to hear it described in more detail. Perhaps, if you could meet with the Coven tomorrow …”

  Yngvar snorted. “If I never see another wizard, it will be too soon. No, I will not argue. I have said all I am going to say on the subject. The sun-chasers are there, floating in the harbor. The Coven is welcome to come look at the ships, sink them, dance in them, fly them, if you have a mind to. No dwarf will set so much as a hair of his beard on a single plank. This I swear!”

  “Are the dwarves prepared to let themselves be turned into blocks of ice?” Dumaka asked, glowering.

  “We have boats enough of our own—boats built with sweat, not magic—to take our people off our doomed seamoon.”

  “And what about us?” Dumaka shouted.

  “Humans are not the concern of the dwarves!” Yngvar shouted back. “Use the cursed boats if you want.”

  “You know perfectly well we need a dwarven crew—”

  “Superstitious fools!” Delu was saying.

  Haplo got up, walked out. From the sounds of the argument raging behind him, no one was likely to notice his absence.

  He stalked off toward his own lodge and nearly fell over Grundle and Alake, crouched in a grove of trees.

  “What the— Oh, it's you,” Haplo said irritably. “I thought you two'd had your fill of listening in on other people's conversations?”

  They'd chosen a secluded spot, near the back end of the chieftain's lodge, shadowed from the bright light of the campfires that shone full on their faces when they stood up.

  Alake looked ashamed. Grundle only grinned.

  “I wasn't going to listen,” Alake protested. “I came to see if my mother needed me to fetch more wine for our guests and I found Grundle hiding here. I told her it was wrong, that we shouldn't do this anymore, that the One had punished us—”