Elven Star – The Death Gate Cycle 2. Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

“Father, good-bye.” The elf shook hands. “Good luck with the rockets.”

Lenthan brightened visibly. “Did you see the ones we set off last night? Brilliant bursts of fire above the treetops. I attained real altitude. I’ll bet people could see the blasts all the way to Thillia.”

“I’m sure they could, sir,” agreed Paithan. He turned to the old man. “Zifnab-”

“Where?” The old man whipped about.

Paithan cleared his throat, kept a straight face. “No, no, sir. I mean you. Your name.” The elf held out his hand. “Remember? Zifnab?”

“Ah, pleased to meet you, Zifnab,” said the old man, shaking hands. “You know, though, that name sure sounds familiar. Are we related?”

Calandra gave him a shove with her hand. “You better get going, Pait.”

“Tell Thea good-bye for me!” Paithan said.

His sister snorted, shook her head, her face grim.

“Have a good trip, Son,” said Lenthan in a wistful tone. “You know, sometimes I think maybe I should go out on the road. I think I might enjoy it. . . .”

Seeing Calandra’s eyes narrow, Paithan struck in hastily, “You let me handle the travel for you. Father. You’ve got to stay here and work on your rockets. Leading the people forth, and all that.”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Lenthan with an air of self-importance. “I had better get started working on that, right now. Are you coming, Zifnab?”

“What? Oh, you talking to me? Yes, yes, my dear fellow. Be along in a jiffy. You might want to increase the amount of sinktree ash. I think we’ll achieve greater lift.”

“Yes, of course! Why didn’t I think of that!” Lenthan beamed, waved vaguely at his son, and hurried into the house.

“Probably won’t have any eyebrows left,” muttered the old man. “But we’ll achieve greater lift. Well, you’re off, are you?”

“Yes, sir.” Paithan grinned, and whispered confidentially, “Mind you don’t let any of that death, doom, and destruction start without me.”

“I won’t.” The old man gazed at him with eyes that were suddenly, unnervingly, shrewd and cunning. He jabbed a gnarled finger in Paithan’s chest. “Doom will come back with you!”

CHAPTER 8

THE

NEXUS

HAPLO WALKED SLOWLY AROUND THE SHIP, INSPECTING IT CAREFULLY TO MAKE certain all was in readiness for his flight. He did not, as had the original builders and masters of the dragonship, inspect the guide ropes and the rigging, the cables that controlled the gigantic wings. He looked intently at the wooden hull, but he wasn’t checking the caulking. He ran his hands over the skin on the wings, but he wasn’t searching for rips or tears. He studied, instead, strange and elaborate symbols that had been carved, burned, stitched, and painted on the wings and the outside of the ship.

Every conceivable inch was covered with the fantastic designs-whorls and spirals; straight lines and curved; dots and dashes; zigzags, circles, and squares. Passing his hand over the sigla, the

Patryn murmured to himself, reciting the runes. The sigla would not only protect his ship, the sigla would fly it.

The elves who had built the vessel-named Dragon Wing in honor of Haplo’s journey to the world of Arianus-would not have recognized their handiwork. Haplo’s own ship had been destroyed on his previous entry through Death’s Gate. He had commandeered the elven ship on Arianus. Due to pursuit by an ancient foe, he had been forced to leave Arianus in haste and had inscribed only those runes absolutely necessary to his survival (and that of his young passenger) through Death’s Gate.

Once safely in the Nexus, however, the Patryn had been able to expend both time and magic on modifying the vessel to his own specifications.

The ship, designed by the elves of the Tribus Empire, had originally utilized elven magic combined with mechanics. Being extraordinarily strong in his own magic, the Patryn did away completely with the mechanics. Haplo cleared the galley of the confused tangle of rigging and the harnesses worn by the slaves who operated the wings. He left the wings themselves outspread, and embroidered and painted runes on the dragonskin to provide lift, stability, speed, and protection. Runes strengthened the wooden hull; no force existed that was strong enough to crush it or stave it in. Sigla etched into the glass windows of the bridge prevented the glass from cracking while, at the same time, permitting an unobstructed view of the world beyond.

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