This time, he’d fight the fear. This time—A shattering crash and an inhuman wail brought Haplo’s heart to his mouth. The dog jumped to its feet and was off like an arrow, lacing into the ship’s interior.
– Haplo wrenched his gaze away from the mesmerizing swirl of colors enticing him into the blackness beyond. In the distance, he could hear the dog’s bark echoing through the corridors. To judge by the dog’s reaction, someone or something was aboard his ship.
Haplo lurched forward. The ship rocked and heaved and bucked. He had difficulty keeping his feet, tottered and staggered into the bulkheads like some old drunk.
The dog’s barking grew in loudness and intensity but Haplo noted, oddly, a change in the note. The bark was no longer threatening, it was joyful—the animal greeting someone it knew and recognized.
Perhaps some kid had hidden himself aboard for a prank or a chance for adventure. Haplo couldn’t conceive of any Patryn child who would indulge in such mischief. Patryn children, growing up (if they managed to live that long) in the Labyrinth, had very little time for childhood.
After some difficulty, he made his way to the hold, heard a voice, faint and pathetic.
“Nice doggie. Hush, now, nice dog, and go away, and I’ll give you this bit of sausage .. .*
Haplo paused in the shadows. The voice sounded familiar. It wasn’t a child’s, it was a man’s and he knew it, although he couldn’t quite place it. The Patryn activated the runes on his hands. Bright blue light welled from the sigla, illuminating the darkness of the hold. He stepped inside.
The dog stood spraddle-legged on the deck, barking with all its might at a man cowering in a corner. The man, too, was familiar, a balding head topped by a fringe of hair around the ears, a weary middle-aged face, mild eyes now wide with fear. His body was long and gangly and appeared to have been put together from leftover parts of other bodies. Hands that were too large, feet that were too large, neck too long, head too small. It was his feet that had betrayed the man, entangling him in a coil of rope, undoubtedly the cause of the crash.
“You,” Haplo said in disgust. “Sartan.”
The man looked up from the barking dog, which he had been attempting unsuccessfully to bribe with a sausage—part of Haplo’s food supply. Seeing the Patryn standing before him, the man gave a faint, self-deprecating smile, and fainted.
‘Alfred!” Haplo drew in a seething breath and took a step forward. “How the hell did you—”
The ship slammed headlong into Death’s Gate.
CHAPTER * 8
DEATH’S GATE
THE VIOLENCE OF THE IMPACT KNOCKED HAPLO OVER BACKWARD AND sent the dog scrabbling to maintain its balance. The comatose body of Alfred slid gently across the canting deck. Haplo crashed up against the side of the hold, fighting desperately against tremendous unseen forces pressing on him, holding him plastered to the wood. At last the ship righted itself somewhat and he was able to lurch forward. Grabbing hold of the limp shoulder of the man lying at his feet, Haplo shook him viciously.
‘Alfred! Damn it, Sartan! Wake up!”
Alfred’s eyelids fluttered, the eyes beneath them rolled. He groaned mildly, blinked, and—seeing Haplo’s dark and scowling face above him—appeared somewhat alarmed. The Sartan attempted to sit up, the ship listed, and he instinctively grabbed at Haplo’s arm to support himself. The Patryn shoved the hand aside roughly.
“What are you doing here? On my ship? Answer me, or by the Labyrinth, I’ll—”
Haplo stopped, staring. The ship’s bulkheads were closing in around him, the wooden sides drawing nearer and nearer, the deck rushing up to meet the overhead. They were going to be crushed, squeezed flat except, at the same instant, the ship’s bulkheads were flying apart, expanding into empty space, the deck was falling out from beneath him, the entire universe was rushing away from him, leaving him alone and small and helpless.
The dog whimpered and crawled toward Haplo, buried its cold nose in his hand. He clasped the animal thankfully. It was warm and solid and real. The ship was his and stable once more.