The move was dangerous, foolhardy, and desperate. That far from the ship’s center, the magical canopy could not reach them, could not protect them. A gust or-as was happening now-an enemy arrow could catch them and carry them over the wing’s edge, to tumble down into the Maelstrom.
“Walking the dragon wing.” It had become a term among elves for any risk-taking adventure worth the price. The saying had always, Hugh felt, held a special meaning for him and his way of life. He had named his ship in its honor.
Bane returned with a bowl.
“Where’re the elves?” He handed the bowl to Hugh.
“Back behind us. We’ve flown out beyond them.” Hugh took a mouthful and choked, spitting it out. “Damn! What’d Alfred do, spill the pepper pot into this stuff?”
“I told him it was too spicy. Here, I brought you some wine.”
The prince handed Hugh the wineskin. He took a deep drink, swallowed, and took another. Giving it back, he shoved over the bowl of uneaten food with his foot. “Take that gunk back and feed it to Alfred.”
Bane picked up the bowl, but he didn’t leave the steerage way. Fingers toying with the feather, he stood watching Hugh with a strange, calm expectancy.
“What is it?” the Hand snapped.
But at that very moment, he knew.
He hadn’t tasted the poison. The pepper had masked it. But he was feeling the first effects. Cramps clenched his bowels. A burning sensation spread through his body, and his tongue seemed to swell in his mouth. Objects in his sight elongated, then flattened. The boy grew huge, leaning over him with a sweet, charming smile, the feather dangling from his hand.
Rage surged through Hugh, but not as swiftly or strongly as the poison.
Sagging backward, his vision darkening, Hugh saw the feather and heard the boy’s awed voice coming from a great distance.
“It worked, father! He’s dying!”
Hugh reached out to catch hold and choke the breath out of his murderer, but his arm was too heavy to lift; it hung limp and lifeless at his side. And then the boy was no longer standing over him, but a black monk, with hand outstretched.
“And now, who is master?” asked the monk.
CHAPTER 25
DEEPSKY, MID REALM
HUGH CRASHED TO THE DECK, DRAGGING THE CABLES ATTACHED TO THE HARNESS ON his body with him. The ship listed sharply, slamming Bane backward into the bulkhead. The bowl of food fell from the child’s hand with a clatter. From the cabin below, there was a resounding crash, followed by a pained and panicked yell.
Staggering to his feet, clinging to the ship’s side, the prince looked around dazedly. The deck slanted at a precarious angle. Hugh lay on his back, entangled in the cables. Bane glanced hastily outside, saw the nose of the dragon pointing straight down, and realized what had happened. Hugh’s fall had pulled the wings in, the magic was not working, and now they were plunging out of control through the sky, plummeting down toward the Maelstrom.
It had not occurred to Bane that this would happen. Nor had it, apparently, occurred to his father. That was not surprising. A human mysteriarch of the Seventh House, living in realms far above the strife and turmoil of the rest of the world, could have no knowledge of things mechanical. Sinistrad had probably never even seen an elven dragonship. And, after all, Hugh had assured the boy the ship could fly itself.
Bane scrambled among the tangle of cables. Reaching Hugh’s body, he pulled and tugged with all his might at the ropes. But he couldn’t move them. The wings would not budge.
“Alfred!” the prince yelled. “Alfred, come quickly!”
There was another crash and a scuffling below; then Alfred’s face-deathly white-poked up through the hatch.
“Sir Hugh! What’s happening! We’re falling-” His gaze rested on the man’s body. “Blessed Sartan!” With a swiftness and ease unusual in such a clumsy, ungainly body, Alfred dashed in through the hatch, made his way over the coils of rope, and knelt beside Hugh.
“Oh, never mind him! He’s dead!” cried the prince. Grabbing hold of Alfred’s coat, he jerked him around to face the front of the ship. “Look! You’ve got to stop us! Take the harness off him and fly this thing!”