Serpent Mage (43 page)

I went down to the water's edge, where Alake was talking with one of the dolphins who had slowly and reluctantly swum back. Haplo stayed behind, keeping well away from the water.

“What's the problem?” I asked.

Alake squeaked and whistled. I wondered if she knew how truly ridiculous she sounded. You'd never catch me lowering myself to fish-talk. She turned around.

“Haplo's right. They're refusing to talk to him. They say he's in league with the dragon-snakes, and they hate and fear the dragon-snakes.”

“Listen, fish,” I said to the dolphin, “we're not crazy about the dragon-snakes ourselves, but Haplo has some sort of hold on them. He got them to let us go and made them repair the sun-chasers.”

The dolphin shook its head violently, splattering water all over both of us. It began to squeak shrilly, alarmingly, flapping its flippers in the water.

“What's the matter with it?” Devon came over to join us.

“That's nonsense!” Alake cried angrily. “I don't believe you. I won't stay here and listen to such talk.” She turned her back on the frantic dolphin and walked up the beach to where Haplo was standing.

“It's useless,” she said. “They're behaving like spoiled children. Let's go.”

“I need to talk to them,” Haplo said.

“What did the thing say to her?” I asked Devon softly.

He glanced over at the two of them, motioned me closer.

“It said that the dragon-snakes are evil, more evil than we can imagine. And that Haplo's just as evil as they are. He has a private hatred for these Sartan. Once, long ago, his people fought the Sartan and lost. Now, he wants revenge. He's using us to
get
it. When we've destroyed the Sartan for him, he'll turn us over to the dragon-snakes.”

I stared at him. I couldn't believe it, and yet, in a way, I could. I felt sick inside and afraid. Judging by his looks, Devon wasn't faring much better. Dolphins often exaggerate
the truth, or sometimes come up with only part of the truth, but it is, generally, the truth. I've never known one to lie. We both eyed Haplo, who was trying to persuade Alake to return and talk to the dolphins again.

“What do you think?” I asked Devon.

The elf took his time answering. “I think the dolphins are wrong. I trust him. He saved my life, Grundle. Saved my life by giving me some of his own.”

“Huh?”

That made no sense at all. I was about to say as much to Devon, when he shushed me. Alake was returning to the water's edge, followed by Haplo. Seeing him this near the sea, in danger of being splashed, I concluded the matter must be serious.

Alake summoned the dolphin before her with her best imperious air, bracelets clashing, arm stabbing downward. Her eyes flashed, her voice was stern. Even I was impressed. The dolphin swam to her meekly.

“Listen to me,” Alake said, “you will answer the questions this man puts to you to the best of your ability or from this moment on, you dolphins will be shunned by every human, elf, and dwarf.”

“Exceeding our authority a bit, aren't we?” I poked her in the ribs.

“Shut up.” Alake pinched me. “And agree to go along.”

We did. Both Devon and I stoutly insisted that no elf or dwarf would ever talk to a dolphin again. At this dire threat, the dolphins gasped and floundered and flopped around in the water, sounding agonized and swearing that they were only interested in our welfare. (Overdoing it, if you ask me.) Finally—after pathetic bleatings, which we ignored—one of the fish agreed to talk to Haplo.

And then, after all this, what do you suppose was Haplo's question? Did he ask about Sartan defenses? About how many men manned the battlements? About how good they were at ax-heaving? No.

Alake, having cowed the dolphins, looked at him expectantly. Haplo spoke the fish's language fluently.

“What's he saying?” I asked Devon.

Devon looked dazed. “He's asking them how the Sartan are dressed!”

Well, of course, Haplo could have asked nothing that would have caught the dolphins' fancy more (which, it occurs to me, may have been the reason he asked it). Dolphins have never understood our strange propensity for draping the body in cloth, just as they've never understood our other odd habits, such as living on dry land and expending all that energy walking when we might be swimming.

But, for some reason, they find the wearing of clothing particularly hilarious and, as such, are continually fascinated by it. Let an elf matron attend a ball in a puffed-sleeve gown when long tight sleeves are in fashion and every dolphin in the Goodsea will have heard about it by morning.

As it was, we were treated to a graphic account (Alake translating, for my benefit) of what the Sartan were wearing, which—all in all—I thought sounded pretty boring.

“The dolphins say that the Sartan all dress alike. The males wear robes that fall in long, loose folds from the shoulders and the females wear a similar design, except that theirs are cinched around the waist. The robes are plain-colored, either white or gray. Most have simple designs along the bottom, and some are trimmed in gold. The dolphins suspect that the gold denotes some type of official ranking. They don't know what.”

Devon and I sat down in the sand, both of us glum and uncommunicative. I wondered if he was thinking about what I was thinking about. I had my answer when I saw him frown and heard him repeat, “He saved my life.”

“The dolphins don't think much of the Sartan,” Alake was saying to me, in low tones. “Apparently, the Sartan ask the dolphins continually for information, but when the dolphins ask the Sartan questions, the Sartan refuse to answer.”

Haplo nodded; this information obviously didn't surprise him much. In fact, I could see he wasn't surprised by anything he heard, as if he knew it all beforehand. I wondered why he asked, why he bothered. He had joined us, sitting in the sand, his arms propped up on his bent knees, hands
clasped. He looked relaxed, prepared to sit here for several signe.

“Is there … anything else you want to know?” Alake glanced at him then over at us to see if we knew what was going on.

We weren't any help. Devon was busy digging holes in the sand, watching them fill with water and tiny sea creatures. I felt angry and unhappy and began tossing rocks at the dolphin, just to see how close I could come to hitting it.

The stupid fish, tickled by the dress question, I suppose, swam out of my range, started to giggle and cavort.

“What's so funny?” Haplo asked. He seemed relaxed, but from where I was seated, I could see a glint in his eye, a bright flash like sun off hard, cold steel.

Of course, the dolphin was eager to tell.

“What?” I asked.

Alake shrugged. “Only that there is one Sartan who dresses much differently from the others. He looks different from the others.”

“Different? How?”

Casual conversation, except I saw that Haplo's hands had tightened.

The dolphins were eager to describe it. Several more swam up at this point, all talking at once. Haplo listened intently. It took Alake some moments to sort out who was squeaking what.

“The man wears a coat and knee breeches, like a dwarf, only he's not a dwarf. He's much taller. He has no hair on the top of his head. His clothes are shabby and worn out, and the dolphins say he seems as worn out as his clothes.”

I watched Haplo out of the corner of my eye; a shiver crept over me. His expression had changed. He was smiling, but his smile was unpleasant, made me want to look away. The fingers of his hands were clasped so tightly together that the knuckles, beneath their blue marks, had all turned white. This was what he'd wanted to hear. But, why? Who was this man?

“The dolphins don't think that this man is a Sartan.”

Alake continued talking in some perplexity, expecting
every moment for Haplo to end what seemed a boring conversation. He listened with quiet interest, however, saying nothing, encouraging the dolphins silently to continue.

“He doesn't go around with the Sartan. The dolphins see him walking on the pier alone a lot. They say he looks much nicer than the Sartan, whose faces seem to have stayed frozen when the rest of them thawed out. The dolphins would like to talk to him, but he has a dog with him that barks at them when they come too close—”

“Dog!”

Haplo's whole body flinched, as if someone'd hit him. And I'll never forget, if I live to be four hundred, the tone of his voice. It made my hair stand on end. Alake was staring at him in astonishment. The dolphins, sensing a choice morsel of gossip, swam as close as they possibly could without actually beaching themselves.

“Dog …” Devon's head jerked up. I don't think he'd been paying much attention, up to this point. “What about a dog?” he whispered to me.

I shook my side whiskers at him, to keep him quiet. I didn't want to miss whatever Haplo was going to do or say next. He didn't say or do anything, however. Just sat there.

For some reason, I recalled a recent evening spent at our local tavern, enjoying the usual brawl. One of my uncles was hit over the head with a chair. He sat on the floor for quite a while, and the expression on his face was identical to the expression on Haplo's.

First my uncle looked dazed, stunned. Pain brought him to his senses; his face kind of twisted, and he moaned a little. But by then, too, he realized what had happened to him, and he was so angry he forgot that he hurt. Haplo didn't moan. He didn't make any sound that I heard. But I saw his face twist, then darken in anger. He jumped to his feet and, without a word, stalked off back toward camp.

Alake cried out, and would have run after him, if I hadn't been holding onto the hem of her dress. As I told you, the Phondrans don't believe in buttons or anything of that type. They wrap the cloth around themselves. While ordinarily the
folds are quite secure, one good tug in a strategic location can pretty well undo the whole business.

Alake gasped, grappled with folds of falling fabric, and by the time she was properly redraped, Haplo was out of sight.

“Grundle!” She pounced on me. “What did you do that for?”

“I saw his face,” I answered. “Obviously, you didn't. Believe me, he wanted to be alone.”

I thought she was going to fly off after him and I was on my feet, prepared to stop her, when she sighed, suddenly, and shook her head.

“I saw his face, too,” was all she said.

The dolphins were squeaking in excitement, begging to know the gory details.

“Go on! Get out of here!” I said, and began chucking rocks in earnest.

They swam off, with hurt and offended squeaks. But I noticed that they only swam out of range of my throwing arm and that they kept their heads out of the water, mouths open, beady little eyes watching eagerly.

“Stupid fish!” snapped Alake, tossing her head, making her ear-jangles clash like bells. “Vicious gossips. I don't believe anything they say.”

She kept glancing at us uneasily, wondering if we'd overheard what the dolphins said about Haplo and the dragon-snakes. I tried to look innocent, but I must not have succeeded.

“Oh, Grundle! Surely you don't think for a moment what they said was true! That Haplo's using us! Devon”—Alake turned to the elf for support—“tell Grundle that she's wrong. Haplo wouldn't do … what they said. He just wouldn't! He saved your life, Devon.”

But Devon wasn't listening. “Dog,” he repeated thoughtfully. “He said something to me about a dog. I wish I… I just can't remember …”

“You have to admit, Alake,” I said reluctantly, “that we don't know anything about him. Where he comes from, even what he is. Now this man with no hair on his head and the shabby clothes. Haplo obviously knew the man was with the
Sartan; he wasn't the least surprised to hear about him. He

was
surprised about the dog, though, and from the look of him, the surprise wasn't pleasant. Who is this strange man? What does he have to do with Haplo? And what's the big deal about a dog?”

I looked hard at Devon as I spoke.

The elf was no help. He only shrugged. “I'm sorry, Grundle. I wasn't feeling very good at the time …”

“I know all about Haplo I need to know,” said Alake angrily, twitching the folds of her dress back into place. “He saved our lives, saved you twice, Devon!”

“Yes,” said Devon, not looking at Alake, “and how nicely it all worked out for him.”

“It did, didn't it?” I said, thinking back. “He was the hero, the savior. No one's ever questioned a thing he says. I think we should tell our parents—”

Alake stomped her foot. Bracelets and ear-jangles rang wildly. I'd never seen her so angry. “You do, Grundle Heavy-beard, and I'll never speak to you again! I swear it by the One!”

“There's a way we can find out for certain,” Devon said soothingly, to calm her down. He stood up, brushed the sand off his hands.

“What's that?” Alake demanded, sullen, suspicious.

“Spy—”

“No! I forbid it! I won't have you spying on him—”

“Not on him,” said Devon. “On the dragon-snakes.”

Now I felt as if
I'd
been hit over the head with a chair. The very idea took my breath away.

“I agree with you, Alake,” Devon argued persuasively, “I want to believe in Haplo. But we can't get around the fact that dolphins generally know what's going on—”

“Generally'!” Alake repeated bitterly.

“Yes, that's what I mean. What if they've got part of it wrong and part of it right? What if, for example, the dragon-snakes are using Haplo? What if he's in just as much danger as we are? I think, before we tell our parents or anybody, we should find out the truth.”

“The elf's got a point,” I admitted. “At least for now,
the dragon-snakes seem to be on our side. And snakes or no snakes, we can't stay on the seamoons. We've got to reach Surunan. And if we bring this up …”

I didn't need to finish my sentence. We could picture, all too well, how this information would start the squabbling and the distrust and the suspicion all over again.

“Very well,” said Alake.

The thought of Haplo being in danger had won her over, of course. I regarded Devon with newfound admiration. Eliason had been right. Elves did make good diplomats.