Kleitus started to leave, paused, turned back. “Oh, by the way, that friend of yours—”
“I don’t have any friends,” Haplo said shortly. He had started to sit down, but was now forced to remain standing.
“Indeed? I’m referring to the Sartan who saved your life. The one who destroyed the dead guard about to execute you—”
“That was self-preservation, Your Majesty. I’m the only way he gets back home.”
“Then it wouldn’t concern you to hear that this acquaintance of yours is in collusion with our enemies and has, therefore, placed his life in jeopardy?”
Haplo grinned, sat down on the stone seat. If you’re trying to use threats against Alfred to goad me into talking, Friend, you’re sadly mistaken. “It wouldn’t concern me to hear that Alfred fell into the Fire Sea.”
Kleitus slammed shut the cell door, using his hands this time, not the rune-magic. He began to walk away.
“Oh, by the way, Your Majesty—” Haplo called, scratching at the tattoos on his arm. Two could play at this game.
Kleitus ignored him, continued to walk away.
“I heard something mentioned about a prophecy .. .” Haplo paused, let his words hang in the chill, dank air of the catacombs.
The dynast stopped. He had drawn the cowl up over his head. The hood, turning toward Haplo, shadowed Kleitus’s face. His voice, though he attempted to keep it cold and uncaring, had an edge of sharpened steel to it.
“Well, what about it?”
“Just curious to know what it was. I thought perhaps Your Majesty could tell me.”
The dynast emitted a dry chuckle. “We could spend the remainder of our waking hours relating prophecies to you, Patryn, and half the slumbering hours into the bargain.”
“There’ve been that many, have there?” Haplo marveled.
“That many. And most of them worth about what you might expect—the ravings of half-crazed old men or some dried-up old virgin in a trance. Why do you ask?” The voice probed.
So many, huh? Haplo thought. The prophecy, Jera said, and everyone knew—or seemed to know—exactly what she meant. I wonder why you don’t want to tell me, you crafty dragon-spawn. Perhaps it hits a little too close to home, eh?
“I thought perhaps one of the prophecies might refer to My Lord,” Haplo said, taking a risk.
He didn’t know exactly what he hoped to accomplish with that shot, made completely in the dark. But if he’d intended it to draw blood, apparently he missed his mark. Kleitus didn’t flinch or cringe. He made no comment, but turned as if completely bored with the conversation and walked off down the narrow hallway.
Haplo, listening closely, heard the dynast greet Pons in the same bored, casual tones. The echo of their voices gradually faded in the distance, and the Patryn was left alone with the dead for company.
At least the dead were a quiet group . . . with the exception of that incessant sighing or whining or whatever noise buzzed in his ears.
Haplo threw himself down on the stone bed to consider his conversation with the dynast, going over every word spoken and every word that hadn’t been. The Patryn decided that he’d come out ahead in this first contest of wills. Kleitus wanted off this hunk of rock badly, that much was obvious. He wanted to visit other worlds, wanted to rule other worlds—that, too, was obvious.
“If there were such a thing as a soul, as the ancients believed, this man would sell his for the chance,” Haplo remarked to the dead. “But, in lieu of his soul, he’ll sell me the necromancy. With the dead fighting for him, My Lord will forge his own prophecy!”
He looked across at the still form lying in the cell opposite. “Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Haplo said quietly. “You’ll have your revenge.”
“He’s lying, of course, the cunning devil,” the dynast told Pons, when the two Sartan were again alone in the library, “Trying to make us believe the mensch are in control of the worlds beyond! As if mensch could control anything!”
“But you saw—”
“We saw what he wanted us to see! This Haplo and his partner are spies, sent to discover our weaknesses, betray our strengths. It is this lord of his who rules. We saw the man.” Kleitus fell silent, remembering. Slowly, he nodded his head. “A power to be reckoned with, Pons. An elder wizard of extraordinary skill and discipline and will.”