‘A city?” Alfred looked hopeful.
‘Abandoned. Long ago. A message they left behind said something about some type of force driving them out.”
Alfred appeared bewildered. “But that’s impossible. What type of force could it have been? There is no force, except perhaps your own, that could destroy or even intimidate us.”
Haplo wound the bandages around his right hand, glanced at the Sartan from beneath lowered brows. He seemed to be sincere, but Haplo had journeyed with Alfred in Arianus. The Sartan wasn’t as simpleminded as he appeared. Alfred had discovered Haplo to be a Patryn long before Haplo had discovered Alfred to be a Sartan.
If he did know anything about such a force, he wasn’t talking. The Lord of the Nexus would have it out of him, however.
Haplo tucked the ends of the bandages neatly beneath the shirt cuffs and whistled to the dog, who leapt eagerly to its feet.
“Are you ready, Sartan?”
Alfred blinked in surprise. “Yes, I’m ready. And, since we’re speaking the human language, it might be better if you called me by my name instead of ‘Sartan.’ ”
“Hell, I don’t even call the dog by name and that animal means a lot more to me than you do.”
“There might be those who remember the Sartan, as well as the Patryns.”
Haplo gnawed his lower lip, conceded that the man had a point. “Very well, ‘Alfred.'” He managed to make it sound insulting. ‘Although that’s not your real name, is it?”
“No. It’s one I adopted. Unlike yours, my true name would sound very strange to the mensch.”
“What is your real name? Your Sartan name? If you’re wondering, I can speak your language—although I don’t like to.”
Alfred drew himself straighten “If you speak our language, you know then that to speak our names is to speak the runes and draw on the power of the runes. Therefore, our true names are known only to ourselves and to those who love us. A Sartan’s name can be spoken only by another Sartan.
“Just as your name”—Alfred raised a delicate finger, pointed suddenly at Haplo’s breast—”is marked on your skin and may be read only by those whom you love and trust. You see, I also speak your language. Although I don’t like to.”
“Love!” Haplo snorted. “We don’t love anyone. Love is the greatest danger there is in the Labyrinth, since whatever you love is certain to die. As for trust, we had to learn it. Your prison taught us that much- We had to trust each other, because that was the only way we could survive. And speaking of survival, you might want to make certain I stay healthy, unless you think you can pilot this ship back thiough Death’s Gate yourself.”
“And what happens if my survival depends on you?”
“Oh, I’ll see that you survive, all right. Not that you’ll thank me for it later.”
Alfred looked at the steering stone, the sigla etched on it. He would recognize each sigla, but they were arranged in far different patterns from those he knew. Elven and human languages use the same letters of the alphabet, yet the languages are vastly dissimilar. And although he might be able to speak the Patryn language, Haplo was certain the Sartan couldn’t work the Patryn magic.
“No, I’m afraid I couldn’t manage steering this ship,” Alfred said.
Haplo laughed briefly, derisively, started for the door, then stopped. Turning, he held up a warning hand.
“Don’t try that fainting trick with me. I warn you! I can’t be responsible for what happens if you pass out.”
Alfred shook his head. “I can’t control the fainting spells, I’m afraid. Oh, in the beginning I could. I used it to disguise my magic, like those bandages you wear. What else could I do? I could no more reveal I was a demigod than you could! Everyone would have wanted to use me. Greedy men demanding I give them wealth. Elves demanding I kill the humans. Humans demanding I rid them of the elves . . .”
‘And so you fainted.”
“I was beset by robbers.” Alfred lifted his hands, looked down at them. “I could have obliterated them with a word. I could have turned them to solid stone. I could have melted their feet to the pavement. I could have charmed them utterly . . . and left my mark indelibly on the world. I was frightened — not of them, but of what I had the power to do to them. My mental turmoil and anguish was too great for my mind to bear. When I came to myself, I knew how I had solved the dilemma. I had simply fainted dead away. They took what they wanted and left me alone. And now I can’t control the spells. They simply . . . happen.”