And then, mercifully, it was over. His parents’ bodies—what was left of them when the snogs had finished their gorging—lay unmov-ing. His mother’s screams had ceased. Then came the frightening moment when Alfred knew that he was next, when he feared that they must see him, that he must be as highly visible as the bright red blood clotting the matted leaves on the ground. But the snogs were weary of their sport. Hunger and lust to kill both satisfied, they moved off, leaving Alfred alone in the brush.
He lay hidden a long time, near the bodies of his parents. The carrion beasts arrived to take their share of the spoils. He was afraid to stay, afraid to leave, and he couldn’t help whimpering, if only to hear the sound of his own voice and know that he was alive. And then two men were there, beside him, peering down at him, and he was startled for he hadn’t heard them gliding through the brush, moving more silently than the wind.
The men discussed him, as if he weren’t there. They eyed the bodies of his parents coldly, spoke of them without sympathy. The men were not cruel, only callous, as if they’d seen murder done all too many times before and the sight could no longer shock them. One of them reached down into the brush, dragged Alfred to his feet. They marched him over to stand beside the bodies of his butchered parents.
“Look at that,” the man told Alfred, holding the boy by the scruff of his neck and forcing him to stare at the gruesome sight. “Remember it. And remember this. It wasn’t snogs that killed your father and mother. It was those who put us in this prison and left us to die. Who are they, boy? Do you know?” The man’s fingers dug painfully into Alfred’s flesh.
“The Sartan,” Alfred heard himself answer and he knew then that he was Sartan and that he’d just killed those who had given him birth.
“Repeat it!” the man ordered him.
“The Sartan!” Alfred cried, and he wept.
“Right. Never forget that, boy. Never forget.”
*
Haplo fell into darkness, cursing, fighting, struggling to retain consciousness. His mind rebelled against him, dragged him under for his own good. He caught a glimpse of a light, as he seemed to be receding farther and farther away, and he exerted every ounce of his being to reach that light. He made it.
The falling sensation ended, all the strange sensations ended and he was filled with a vast sense of peace. He was lying on his back and it seemed to him that he had just awakened from a deep and restful slumber lit by beautiful dreams. He was in no hurry to rouse himself, but lay still, enjoying slipping into and out of sleep, listening to a sweet music in his mind. At length, he knew himself to be fully awake and he opened his eyes.
He lay in a crypt. He was startled, at first, but not frightened, as if he knew where he was but had forgotten and now that he remembered, everything was all right. He felt a sense of excitement and breathless anticipation. Something that he’d been waiting for a long time was about to happen. He wondered how to get out of the crypt, but knew the answer immediately when he asked himself the question. The crypt would open at his command.
Lying back restfully, Haplo glanced down at his body and was to see himself in strange clothes—long white robes. And he with a pang of terror, that the runes tattooed on his hands and were gone! And with the runes, his magic. He was helpless, helpless as a mensch!
But the knowledge came to him instantly, almost making him laugh at his own simplicity, that he wasn’t powerless. He possessed the magic – but it was inside him, not outside. Experimentally, he lifted his hand and examined it. The hand was slender and delicate. It traced a rune in the air and, at the same time, sang the rune to the a&pie door of his crystal crypt opened.
Haplo sat up and swung his legs over the side. He jumped Hghny down to the floor; his body tingled all over with the unaccustomed exertion. Turning, he looked back into the crystalline surface of the empty crypt and experienced a profound shock. He was looking at his own reflection, but his face didn’t look back. Alfred’s did. He was Alfred!