Shoving the old man’s hand aside, Haplo regained his feet. “You’re good,” he acknowledged. “But how long can you keep it up? An old geezer like you.” He took a step toward the old man and halted.
The dog stood between them.
“Dog! Get!” ordered Haplo.
The animal held its ground, gazed up at its master with unhappy, pleading eyes.
Zifnab, smiling gently, patted the black-furred head. “Good boy. I thought so.” He nodded wisely, solemnly. “I know all about the dog, you see.”
“Whatever the devil that means!”
“Precisely, dear boy,” said the old man, beaming at him. “And now that we’re all nicely acquainted, we’d best be on our way.” Zifnab turned around, hovered over the steering stone, rubbing his hands eagerly. “I’m really curious to see how this works.” Reaching into a pocket of his mouse-colored robes, he pulled out a chain to which nothing was attached, and stared at it. “My ears and whiskers! We’re late.”
Haplo glared at the dog. “Get!”
The dog slunk down on its belly, crawled across the deck and took refuge in a corner. Head lying on its paws, the animal whimpered. Haplo took a step toward the old man.
“Let’s get this show on the road!” Zifnab stated emphatically, snapping shut nothing and slipping the chain back in his pocket. “Paithan’s in danger-”
“Paithan.” Haplo paused.
“Quindiniar’s son. Fine lad. You can ask him those questions you’ve been wanting to ask: all about the political situation among the humans, what it would take to make the elves go to war, how to stir up the dwarves. Paithan knows all the answers. Not that it will make much difference now.” Zifnab sighed, shook his head. “Politics don’t matter to the dead. But we’ll save some of them. The best and the brightest. And, now, we really must be going.” The old man gazed around with interest. “How do you fly this contraption anyway?”
Irritably scratching the tattoos on the back of his hand, Haplo stared at the old wizard.
A Sartan-he has to be! That’s the only way he could heal himself. Unless he didn’t heal himself. Maybe I made a mistake in the rune-twining, maybe I only thought I crushed his wrist. And the dog, protecting him. That doesn’t mean much.
The animal takes strange likings. There was that time on Arianus when the mutt saved the life of that dwarven woman I was going to have to kill.
Destroyer, savior . . .
“All right, old man. I’ll go along with whatever game you’re playing.” Haplo knelt down, scratched the dog’s silky ears. The animal’s tail brushed the floor, pleased that all was forgiven. “But just until I figure out the rules. When I do, it’s winner take all. And I intend to win.”
Straightening, he placed his hands upon the steering stone. “Where are we headed?”
Zifnab blinked, confused. “I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea,” he admitted. “But, by god!” he added solemnly. “I’ll know when I get there!”
CHAPTER 26
VARSPORT, THILLIA
THE DRAGONSHIP SKIMMED OVER THE TOPS OF THE TREES. HAPLO FLEW IN
the direction according to what he’d been told were the human landholdings. Zifnab peered out the window, anxiously watching the landscape slide away beneath them.
“The gulf!” the old man cried out suddenly. “We’re close. Ah, dear, dear.”
“What’s going on?”
Haplo could make out a line of elves drawn up in military formation along the shore. He sailed out farther over the water. Smoke from distant fires obscured his view momentarily. A gust of wind blew the smoke apart, and Haplo could see a burning city, masses of people swarming onto the beach. A few hundred feet from shore, a boat was sinking, to judge by the number of black dots visible in the water.
‘Terrible, terrible,” Zifnab ran a trembling hand through his sparse white hair. “You’ll have to fly lower. I can’t see.”
Haplo was interested in having a closer look himself. Maybe he’d been wrong about the peaceful situation in this realm. The dragonship swooped low. Many on the shore, feeling the dark shadow pass over them, looked up, pointed. The crowd wavered, some starting to run from what might be a new threat, others milling about aimlessly, realizing that there was no place to go.
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