“For instance,” he said, hoping to catch their attention, “did you know that the seamoon you’re planning to inhabit is already inhabited?”
Dumaka and Delu frowned, grew attentive. The dwarves halted, turned around. Even Eliason lifted his head, a vague flicker of disquiet in the elf’s sunken eyes.
“The dolphins said nothing of this,” returned Dumaka sternly. “How do you know? Who told you?”
“The dragon-snakes. Look, I know you don’t trust them. I don’t blame you. But I have reason to believe that this time they’re telling the truth.”
“Who is living there? Those horrible creatures?” Yngvar guessed, scowling.
“No, not the dragon-snakes, if that’s who you mean. They have their own seamoon. They don’t need or want another. The people living on the moon in which you’re interested are not dwarven, elven, or human. I don’t think you’ve ever heard of them. They call themselves Sartan.”
Haplo glanced around quickly, saw no signs of recognition, and breathed an inward sigh of relief. That made things easier. It might have been difficult, had these people any distant memories of the Sartan, to get them to move against those they must consider gods. He hurried on, while he had their attention.
“The dragon-snakes have promised to rebuild your ships, using their own magic. They’re sorry for what they did. It was all a misunderstanding. I’ll explain it to you when there’s more time.
“For now, I’ll tell you this much, so you can start making plans. The seamoon is everything the dolphins told you. Actually, it isn’t really a seamoon. It’s a permanent structure. And it’s huge, big enough for all your people to live on together. And you’ll be able to live in this realm for generations, without having to worry about building more sun-chasers.”
Dumaka looked dubious. “You are certain you are discussing . . . what was the name?”
“Surunan,” supplied his wife.
“Yes, Surunan.”
“Yeah, that’s the place,” said Haplo, not wanting to have to speak the Sartan name. “It’s the only place anywhere near the seasun. It’s there … or nowhere for your people, I’m afraid.”
“Yes,” said Eliason softly, “we had ourselves come to that determination.”
“Which brings us to our problem. What the dolphins didn’t tell you was that . . . this place … is now the home of these Sartan. To give the dolphins credit, I don’t think they knew. The Sartan haven’t lived there very long.”
Well, they had, but now wasn’t the time to go into all that.
The mensch exchanged glances. They seemed dazed, unable to cope with this new situation.
“But who are these Sartan? You speak of them as if they were horrible creatures, who will turn us away,” said Delu. “How do you know they won’t be glad to have us live on their realm?”
“And how many of these Sartan are there?” asked her husband.
“There aren’t many, a thousand or so. They inhabit one city in the realm. The rest of the land is going to waste.”
Yngvar brightened. “Then what do we have to worry about? There’s room for all.”
“I agree with the dwarf. We will make Surunan productive and prosperous.”
Haplo shook his head. “Logically, what you say makes sense. And the Sartan should be agreeable to you moving in, but I’m afraid they may not. I know something of these Sartan. According to the dragon-snakes, a long, long time ago, when the seasun was new, your ancestors used to live in this same realm with the Sartan. And then, one day, the Sartan told your ancestors to leave. They put your people in ships and sent them out into the Goodsea, not knowing, not caring, whether your people lived or died. It’s not likely the Sartan will be happy to see you come back again.”
“But, if that’s the only place for us to go, how could they turn us away?” Eliason looked amazed.
“I’m not saying they will,” Haplo said, shrugging. “I’m just saying they might. And you need to think about what you’ll do if they refuse to let you. That’s why you need to meet together, make plans, decisions.”
He looked at the mensch expectantly.
They looked at each other.