“If he recovers,” murmured a softer female voice. “He’s hurt really bad, Limbeck. There’s that deep gash on the head, and he may be hurt someplace else too. The dog won’t let me get close enough to find out. Not that it matters. Head injuries as bad as that almost always lead to death. You remember when Hal Hammernail missed a step on the pussyfoot and tumbled down-”
“I know. I know,” came the discouraged reply. “Oh, Jarre, he just can’t die! I want you to hear all about his world. It’s a beautiful place, like I saw in the books. With clear blue sky and a bright shining light beaming down, and wonderful tall buildings as big as the Kicksey-Winsey-”
“Limbeck,” said the female voice sternly, “you didn’t happen to hit your head, did you?”
“No, my dear. I saw them! I truly did! Just like I saw the dead gods. I’ve brought proof, Jarre! Why won’t you believe me?”
“Oh, Limbeck, I don’t know what to believe anymore! I used to see everything so clearly-all black and white, with clean, sharp edges. I knew exactly what I wanted for our people- better living conditions, equal share in the Welf’s pay. That was all. Stir up a little trouble, put pressure on the High Froman, and he’d be forced to give in eventually. Now everything’s a muddle, all gray and confusing. You’re talking about revolution, Limbeck! Tearing down everything we’ve believed in for hundreds of years. And what do you have to put in its place?”
“We have the truth, Jarre.”
Haplo smiled. He had been awake and listening for about an hour now. He understood the basic language-though these beings called themselves “Gegs,” he recognized the tongue as a derivative of one known on the Old World as dwarven. But there were a great many things they said that he didn’t understand. For example, what was this Kicksey-Winsey that they spoke of with such reverent awe? That was why he’d been sent here. To learn. To keep eyes and ears open, mouth shut, and hands off.
Reaching down on the floor beside his bed, Haplo scratched the dog’s head, reassuring the animal that he was well. This journey through Death Gate had not started out exactly as planned. Somewhere, somehow, his liege lord had made serious miscalculations. The runes had been misaligned. Haplo had realized the mistake too late. There had been little he could do to prevent the crash, the resultant destruction of his ship.
The realization that he was now trapped on this world did not unduly worry Haplo. He had been trapped in the Labyrinth and escaped. After that experience, on an ordinary world such as this, he would be-as his lord said-“invincible.” Haplo had only to play his part. Somehow, after he’d done what he came to do, he would find a way back.
“I thought I heard something.”
Jarre entered the room, bringing with her a flood of soft candlelight. Haplo squinted, blinking up at her. The dog growled and started to jump up, but it lay still at its master’s stealthy, commanding touch.
“Limbeck!” Jarre cried.
“He’s dead!” The stout Geg came hurrying anxiously into the room.
“No, no, he’s not!” Sinking down beside the bed, Jarre reached out a trembling hand toward Haplo’s forehead. “Look! The wound’s healed! Completely. Not…not even a scar! Oh, Limbeck! Maybe you’re wrong! Maybe this being truly is a god!”
“No,” said Haplo. Propping himself up on one elbow, he gazed intently at the startled Gegs. “I was a slave.” He spoke slowly in a low voice, fumbling for words in the thick dwarven tongue. “Once I was as you are now. But my people triumphed over their masters and I have come to help you do the same.”
CHAPTER 21
PITRIN’S EXILE, MID REALM
THE JOURNEY ACROSS PITRIN’S EXILE WAS EASIER THAN HUGH HAD ANTICIPATED.
Bane kept up gamely, and when he did tire, he tried very hard not to show it. Alfred watched the boy anxiously, and when the prince began to show signs of being footsore, it was the chamberlain who announced that he himself could not proceed another step. Alfred was, in fact, having a much more difficult time of it than his small charge. The man’s feet seemed possessed of a will of their own and were continually going off on some divergent path, stumbling into nonexistent holes or tripping over twigs invisible to the eye.