“But what the devil do I do with Alfred?”
Haplo glanced back, saw the tall, gangly Sartan perched on his rock like a stork on a battlement. The Patryn thought of the clumsy feet, clattering among the stones, and he shook his head. No, taking Alfred was impossible. But leaving him? Something was bound to happen to the fool. If nothing else, he’d fall into a pit. And Haplo’s lord would not be pleased at losing such a valuable prize.
Damn it all, the Sartan was skilled in magic! And he didn’t need to hide it; at least, not yet.
Haplo made his way back quietly, carefully to where Alfred shivered on his perch. Cupping his hand, putting it to the Sartan’s ear, the Patryn whispered, “Don’t say a word. Just listen!”
Alfred nodded, to show he understood. His face could have been used as a mask in a play called Terror.
“There’s a cavern beneath the cliff. Those voices we can hear are coming from inside. They’re probably a lot farther off than they sound, the cave’s distorting them.”
Alfred appeared highly relieved and also ready to turn and head back for the boat. Haplo caught hold of the worn and shabby sleeve of the blue velvet coat. “We’re going into the cave.”
The Sartan’s eyes opened wide, showing red rims around the pale blue iris. He gulped and would have shaken his head if his neck had not gone stiff.
“Those Sartan markings we saw. Don’t you want to know the truth? If we left now, we might not ever find out.”
Alfred’s head drooped, his shoulders slumped. Haplo knew he had his victim netted, he had only to drag him along. At last the Patryn understood the driving force in Alfred’s life. Whatever the cost, the Sartan had to know if he was truly alone in this universe or if there were others of his race left alive and, if so, what had happened to them.
Alfred closed his eyes, drew a deep, shivering breath, then nodded. “Yes,” his lips mouthed, “I’ll come with you.”
“It’s going to be dangerous. Not a sound. Not one sound or you could get us both killed. Understand?”
The Sartan appeared agonized, looked helplessly down at his own too-large feet, at the hands that dangled at the wrist as if completely beyond their owner’s control.
“Use your magic!” Haplo told him irritably.
Alfred drew back, frightened. Haplo said nothing. He merely pointed in the direction of the cave, pointed to the rock-strewn and treacherous path, pointed to the glowing pools of molten rock on either side.
Alfred began to sing, his nasal voice bouncing off the roof of his mouth. He sang softly; Haplo, standing near him, could barely hear it. But the Patryn, sensitive to the slightest noise that might betray them, had to bite his tongue to keep from telling the man to shut up. Sartan rune magic involves sight and sound and movement. If Haplo wanted Alfred to use his magic, Haplo would have to put up with this teeth-jarring chant. He waited and watched. The Sartan was dancing now, hands weaving the runes his voice conjured, his ungainly feet moving in graceful patterns drawn by his voice. And then Alfred was no longer standing on the rock. He rose slowly into the air, hovered about a foot above the ground. Spreading his hands in a deprecating manner, he smiled down on Haplo.
“This is the easiest,” he said.
Haplo supposed so, but he found it disconcerting, and he had to quiet the dog, who seemed to like Alfred well enough on the ground but who took offense at an Alfred floating in midair.
The Sartan had certainly done what was required of him. Alfred, drifting among the rocks, made less sound than the currents of hot wind that swirled around them. Then what’s wrong? Haplo wondered irritably. Am I jealous? Because I can’t do it myself. Not that I’d want to do it myself!
Patryns draw their magical energy from the possibilities of the seen, the felt, the physical; they take it from the ground, the plants and trees, the rocks, and all objects around them. To let go of reality was to fall into a void of chaos. Sartan magic was of the air, of the unseen, of the possibilities woven in faith and belief. Haplo had the strange sensation that he was being followed by a ghost.