“The only reason you found me hiding here was that you came planning to hide here yourself!” Grundle retorted.
“I did not!” Alake whispered indignantly.
“You did so. What else were you doing traipsing around the back of the longhouse instead of the front?”
“Whatever I was doing is my business—”
“Both of you go on home,” Haplo ordered. “It's not safe here. You're away from the firelight, too close to the jungle. Go on, now.”
He waited until he saw them headed on their way, then started for his own lodge. Footsteps echoed his. He glanced around, saw Grundle tagging along behind.
“Well, what are you going to do about our parents?” she asked him, jerking a thumb in the direction of the longhouse.
Loud, angry voices could be heard, echoing through the night air. People passing by looked at each other worriedly.
“Shouldn't you be somewhere else?” Haplo said irritably. “Won't someone miss you?”
“I'm supposed to be in the cave asleep, but I stuffed a bag of potatoes in my blanket roll. Everyone'll think it's me. And I know the guard on duty. His name's Hartmut. He's in love with me,” she said matter-of-factly. “He'll let me back in. Speaking of love, when's the wedding?”
“What wedding?” Haplo asked, his thoughts on how to solve the current problem.
“Yours and Alake's.”
Haplo came to a stop, glared at the dwarf.
Grundle gazed back, smiling, innocent. Numerous tribe members were eyeing them curiously. Haplo caught hold of the dwarf's arm, hustled her into the privacy of his lodge.
“Uh-oh,” she said, shrinking away from him in mock terror. “You're not going to try to seduce me, now, are you?”
“I didn't seduce anybody,” Haplo said grimly. “And keep your voice down. How much do you know? What did Alake tell you?”
“Everything. Mind if I sit? Thanks.” She plopped herself on the floor, began plucking leaves out of her side whiskers. “Whew! It was really hot, squatting in that bush. I could have told those dragon-snakes they were making a mistake, showing off their power like that. Not that they would have listened to me.”
She shook her head, her expression suddenly grave, solemn. “Do you know, I think they did it on purpose. I think they knew magic like that would frighten my people. I think they meant to frighten them!”
“Don't be ridiculous. Why would they want to frighten you when they're trying to save you? And never mind that now anyway. What did Alake tell you? Whatever she said, I didn't try to take advantage of her.”
“Oh, I know that.” Grundle waved a deprecating hand. “I was just teasing. I have to admit…” she added grudgingly. “You treated Alake better than I expected you to. I guess I misjudged you. I'm sorry.”
“What did she tell you?” Haplo asked for the third time.
“That you two were going to be married. Not now. Alake's not a fool. She knows that this crisis is no time for her to bring up matrimony. But when the sun-chasers take us all to a new realm—if that ever happens, which now I'm beginning to doubt—then she figures you'll both be free to get married and start a new life together.”
So, Haplo said to himself bitterly, here I've been thinking all along that she'd come to her senses. All she's been doing, apparently, is entrenching herself deeper in her fantasies.
“Do you love her?” Grundle asked.
Haplo turned, frowning, thinking the dwarf was teasing him again. He saw, instead, that she was very much in earnest.
“No, I don't.”
“I didn't think so.” Grundle gave a small sigh. “Why don't you just tell her?”
“I don't want to hurt her.”
“Funny,” said the dwarf, studying him shrewdly, “I'd have said you were the kind of man who didn't much care whether he hurt other people or not. What's your real reason?”
Haplo squatted down on his haunches, eyes level with the dwarf maid. “Let's say that it wouldn't be in anybody's best interests if I did anything to upset Alake. Would it?”
Grundle shook her head. “No, I guess you're right.”
He breathed a sigh, stood up. “Listen, the shouting's stopped. I'd say the meeting's broken up.”
Grundle clambered hastily to her feet. “That means I better get going. If I'm caught missing, Hartmut's the one who'll end up in trouble. I hope my parents settled everything with the humans. Deep down, you know, my father really respects Dumaka and Delu. It's just that the snakes frightened him so badly.”
She started to dart out the door. Haplo caught hold of her, pulled her back.
Yngvar was stumping past, his face a sullen red in the firelight, arms swinging wildly as he muttered to himself. His wife tromped along at his side, her lips pressed together tightly, too angry to speak.
“I don't think they resolved anything,” said Haplo.
Grundle shook her head. “Alake's right. The One sent you to us. I will ask the One to help you.”
“The same One whose oath I swore?” asked Haplo.
“What else?” said Grundle, looking at him in astonishment. “The One who guides the waves, of course.”
The dwarf dashed out the door, her short legs pumping as she ran off into the night. He watched the small figure bob among the campfires, saw that she would easily outdistance her parents. Yngvar's anger carried him along at a swift pace, but Haplo guessed the rotund king would soon get winded. Grundle would reach the cave in plenty of time to replace the sack of potatoes with her own stout body, save lover Hartmut from having his beard cut off or whatever form of punishment was measured out to guards derelict in their duties.
Haplo turned from the door, flung himself on his pallet, stared into the darkness. He thought about the dwarves and their reliance on this One, wondered if he could somehow use this to his advantage.
” The One who guides the waves'!” he repeated, amused.
He closed his eyes, relaxed. Sleep began to sever the ties that bound brain to body, snipping them one by one to let the mind drift free until dawn would catch it, drag it back. But before the last cord was cut, Haplo heard an echo of Grundle's words in his mind. But it wasn't the dwarf's voice that spoke them. The words seemed, in fact, to come to him out of a very bright white light, and they were slightly different.
The One who guides the Wave.
Haplo blinked, jerked to wakefulness. He sat up, stared into the darkness of his lodge.
“Alfred?” he demanded, then wondered irritably why he should have the feeling the Sartan was present.
He lay back down, shoved the dwarves, Alake, the Sartan, the One, the dragon-snakes, and whoever else was crowded into his lodge out into the night, and gave himself up to sleep.
2 Humans, when in their own homeland of Phondra, have no use for furniture. They sit on the ground, sleep on the ground—a practice both elves and dwarves consider barbaric and another reason that meetings of the royal houses were generally held on Elmas.
THE ELVES WERE TWO CYCLES LATE—TO THE SURPRISE OF no one, except possibly Haplo.
Dumaka hadn't expected Eliason that soon, was astonished beyond measure when the dolphins brought word that the elves were sailing into Phondran waters. He sent everyone in the village into a mad scramble to open, clean out, and prepare the elven guesthouses.
These houses were special, having been built exclusively to house the elves, who—like the dwarves—demanded special arrangements. For example, no elf would consider sleeping on the ground. This was not a matter of comfort. Long ago, elven alchemists, perhaps in a vain attempt to try to harness the drifting seasun, had discovered the nature of the chemical reaction between seasun and seamoon that produced the breathable air surrounding the moons.
The chemical reaction, so the alchemists deduced, took place between the surface of the seamoon and the seasun. The next logical step was that a similar reaction would naturally take place between anything that rested on the surface for any length of time—this included elves or any o
ther living creature.
Only inanimate objects were ever permitted to rest on the ground in the elven kingdom, and then the most valuable of these was moved periodically to prevent any unfortunate alteration.1 Animals that slept on the ground were not encouraged in Elmas and had been gradually phased out, in favor of birds, monkeys, cats, all those who live in trees.
Elves will eat no food that has been grown on the ground or in it. They will not stand long in one place, nor stand long at all, if they can help it, but will sit down and pull their feet up into the chair.
One of the earliest and most devastating wars between the Phondrans and the Elmas was the War of the Bed. An elven prince had traveled to human lands to open negotiations to avert a war. All went well until the human chieftain led the elf to his quarters for the night. The elf took one look at the pallet spread on the bare ground, assumed the human was out to murder him,2 and declared war on the spot.
Since then, humans and elves have come to respect, if not agree with, each other's beliefs. Elven guesthouses in Phondra are furnished with crude beds made of tree limbs lashed together with rope. And, in their own homelands, the elves have learned to avert their eyes when their human guests take the blankets from the bed and spread them out on the floor. (Eliason had even ceased the practice of attempting to shift his sleeping human guests into beds without their knowledge, ever since one fell out during the night and broke his arm.
The guest quarters in the village were barely finished by the time the elven ship docked. Dumaka and Delu were on hand to greet their guests. Yngvar was there, as well, though the dwarven contingent and the humans kept well apart. Grundle and Alake were present, but separated, each standing with her own family.
The rift between the two races had deepened. Both sets of parents forbade their daughters to talk to one another. Haplo, seeing the two girls exchange secretive, flashing-eyed glances, guessed just how long that rule would be obeyed. He hoped grimly that they wouldn't get caught, precipitate another crisis. At least, the enforced separation had given Alake something else to think about besides the Patryn. He supposed he should be grateful.
The royal families greeted each other with every show of friendship—for the sake of their followers. Dumaka included Haplo as a highly honored guest and the Patryn was at least relieved to note that even the dwarf thawed out somewhat in Haplo's presence. But none of them could hide the fact that they were not meeting in peace as they would have normally. Handshakes were formal and stiff, voices were cold and carefully modulated. No one called anyone by his or her given name.
Haplo could have cheerfully drowned every one of them.
The dolphins had been the cause of this latest trouble. They had gleefully carried the news about the dwarves refusing to travel in the sun-chaser to the elves. Eliason was disposed to side with Dumaka, although, elflike, he had sent word that he would not be rushed into making a decision. This pleased neither. Consequently, Eliason had managed to anger both dwarves and humans before he even arrived.
All of which caused Haplo to literally gnash his teeth in frustration. He had one bit of consolation and it was negative—the dragon-snakes were nowhere to be seen. He was afraid the sight of the formidable creatures might harden the dwarves' determination against them.
A time for a meeting was set, later that evening, and then Yngvar and his contingent stomped off.
Eliason looked after the angry dwarf sadly, shook his head. “What is to be done?” he asked Dumaka.
“I have no idea,” the human chieftain growled. “If you ask me, his beard's grown into his brain. He claims he and his people would rather freeze to death than set foot on the sun-chasers. They probably would, too. They're just stubborn enough.”
Haplo, unobtrusive and silent, kept his distance, but lingered near, hoping to hear something that would help him figure out what to do.
Dumaka put a hand on Eliason's shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend, to add this trouble to the heavy burden of your sorrow. Although,” he added, studying the elf intently, “you carry it better than I would have thought possible.”
“I had to let the dead go,” replied Eliason softly, “in order to look after the living.”
The young elf, Devon, stood on the pier, staring out over the water. Alake was beside him, talking to him earnestly. Grundle, with a wistful glance at both of them, had been dragged off by her parents.
But it was obvious that Alake's words were falling on deaf ears. Devon paid no attention to her, didn't respond in any way.
Dumaka's grim expression softened. “So young, to be dealt such a heavy blow.”
“Three nights running,” said Eliason, in low tones, “we discovered him in that room where my daughter… where she …” He swallowed, turned exceedingly pale.
Dumaka squeezed his arm in silent sympathy, to indicate he understood.
Eliason drew a deep breath. “Thank you, my friend. We found him … there, staring out the window at the stones below. You can imagine what terrible deed we feared he contemplated. I brought him with me, hoping that the company of his friends would draw him out of the shadows that surround him. And it was for his sake I left earlier than I had intended.”
“Thank you, Devon,” Haplo muttered.
Alake, after a helpless glance at her father, finally suggested that Devon might want to see his quarters, and offered to show him the way. He responded like one of the automatons the Gegs used on Arianus, trailing after Alake with listless step and bowed head. He didn't know where he was, obviously cared less.
Haplo remained hanging about Eliason and Dumaka, but it was soon apparent that the two rulers were going to talk of Devon and his sorrows and nothing of major importance.
Just as well, Haplo decided, leaving them. They're not likely to get into a fight over that subject. And I have at least two out of five mensch speaking to each other.
He couldn't help but think back to his time spent on Arianus, time spent trying to spread discord between elves and humans and dwarves. Now he was working twice as hard to bring the three mensch races together.
“I might almost believe in this One,” he said to himself. “Somebody must be getting a big laugh out of all this.”
The ceremonial drum was beating, calling the royal families to conference. Everyone in the village turned out to watch the various parties wend their way to the longhouse. At any other time, such a meeting would have been cause for jubilation; the Phondrans would have been chattering among themselves, pointing out to their children such curiosities as the remarkable length of dwarven beards, the sunlight blondness of elven hair.
But this day, the Phondrans stood in silence, quieting irritably the children's high-pitched questions. Rumor had blown through Phondra like the embers of a campfire, stirred by a high wind. Wherever it fell, small blazes started up, spread rapidly through the tribes of the realm. Other humans from other tribes had traveled here in their long narrow boats, to witness the meeting.
Many of these were witches and warlocks, belonging to the Coven, and were welcomed by Delu, made guests of her own lodgehouse. Others were chieftains, owing their loyalty to Dumaka, and were welcomed by him. Still others were nobody in particular, just curious. These invariably had some guestfriend or relative among the tribe. Nearly every lodge had at least one extra blanket spread on its floor.
All gathered to watch the procession, consisting of the three royal families, representatives of other Phondran tribes, the Phondran Coven, the Elmas Guildsmen, the Gargan Elders—all of the latter acting as witnesses for their people. The humans were silent, faces strained and tense, worried and anxious. Everyone knew that no matter what was decided in the meeting, their fate—for good or ill—depended on the outcome.
Haplo had started for the lodge early, intending to slip inside before any of the dignitaries arrived. But, glancing out to sea, he was disconcerted and none too pleased to see the long sinuous necks and green-red slit eyes of the dragon-snakes.
He couldn't help feel
ing a qualm, an uncomfortable tightening of stomach muscles, a chill in his bowels. The sigla on his skin began to glow a faint blue.
Haplo wished irritably the snakes hadn't come, hoped none of the others saw them. He'd have to remember to try to keep everyone from the water's edge.
The drum beat loudly, then stopped. The members of the three families met outside the lodgehouse, were making a show of friendship—grudging on the part of the dwarves, stiff and constrained on the part of everyone else.
Haplo was wondering how he could manage to evade getting caught up in the formalities, when two figures, one tall and one short, loomed in his path. Hands grabbed his arms. Alake and Grundle dragged him into the jungle shadows.
“I don't have time for games—” he began impatiently, then took a good look at their faces. “What's happened?”
“You've got to help us!” Alake gasped. “We don't know what to do! I think we should tell my father—”
“That's the last thing we want to do!” Grundle snapped. “The meeting's just getting started. If we break it up now, who knows when they'll ever get back together?”
“But—”
“What's happened?” Haplo demanded.
“Devon!” Alake's eyes were wide and frightened. “He's … disappeared.”
“Damn!” Haplo swore beneath his breath.
“He's gone for a walk. That's all,” Grundle said, but the dwarf's nut-brown complexion was pale, her side whiskers trembled.
“I'm going to tell my father, he'll call out the trackers.” A lake started to run away.
Haplo caught hold of her, hauled her back.
“We can't afford to interrupt the meeting. I'm a fair tracker myself. We'll find him, bring him back quietly, without fuss. Grundle's right. He's probably just gone off for a walk, to be by himself. Now, where and when did you last see him?”
Alake had been the last to see him.
“I took him to the elven guesthouse. I stayed with him, tried to talk to him. Then Eliason and the other elves returned to prepare for the meeting and I had to leave. But I waited around, hoping to get a chance to talk to him when Eliason and the rest left. I went back to the guesthouse. He was there, alone.”
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