CHAPTER * 20
PHONDRA CHELESTRA
HAPLO WAS ON HIS GUARD THE NEXT CYCLE, WAITING FOR THE look or sign indicating Dumaka had discovered his guest trifling with his daughter’s affections.
But Alake was true to her word, proving stronger than Haplo had suspected. When she was in his company (a circumstance Haplo went out of his way to avoid, but sometimes couldn’t help), Alake was demure, polite, proper. She no longer brought him little presents, no longer selected the choicest morsels from the cooking pot for his pleasure.
And then he had other problems to worry about.
The dwarven contingent arrived on the twelfth cycle. Yngvar brought a large group, consisting of the Elders and several military officers.
The dwarves were welcomed formally by Dumaka, his wife, members of the tribal council and the Coven. A nearby cave, whose cool chambers were used for storing fruits and vegetables and a rather remarkable wine made by the humans, was cleared out and turned over to the dwarves for the duration of their stay on Phondra. As Yngvar told Haplo, no dwarf could sleep soundly beneath a roof covered with grass. He wanted the feel of something substantial—like a mountain—over his head.
Haplo was glad to see the dwarves. Their arrival took unwanted attention away from him and it meant that the time for action was that much nearer. Haplo was ready for action now, the incident with Alake having effectively managed to dispel his lapse into idyllic euphoria.
He was eager for news, and the dwarves brought some.
“The dragon-snakes are rebuilding the sun-chasers,” stated Yngvar. “As he said they would.” The dwarf gave a nod toward Haplo.
The heads of the royal houses met privately together after dinner. Formal discussions, involving all members of the respective governments, would not take place until the elves arrived. Haplo had been invited, because he was a guest. He took care to keep out of the conversation, watched and listened quietly.
“These are good tidings,” said Dumaka.
The dwarf twisted his beard, frowning.
“What is wrong, Yngvar? Is the work progressing too slowly? Is it slipshod? Ill done?”
“Oh, it’s done well enough,” the dwarven king grumbled. He shifted one leg out from beneath the other, trying, in vain, to make himself comfortable. [1] “It’s how it’s done that bothers me. Magic.”
He grunted, rolled over on one rump, groaned, and began to rub his leg. “I mean no offense, ma’am,” he added, nodding brusquely at Delu, who had bristled at his disparaging tone, black eyes flashing indignantly. “We’ve been through this before. You elves and humans know how we dwarves feel about magic. We know how you feel. We have come, thank the One, to both respect each other’s thinking and not try to change it. And if I had thought that either of your magics or both would have salvaged the sun-chasers, I would have been the first to suggest using it.”
The dwarf’s eyes narrowed, he forgot his discomfort. “But those ships were broken into a thousand bits. A thousand, thousand bits, if you will. I could have sat on the largest piece of all that was left and it would have been no more to me than a splinter in my arse!”
“My dear,” rebuked his wife, flushing. “You’re not in the tavern.”
“Yes, yes. We understand. Go on,” persisted Dumaka impatiently. “What are you saying? The work is progressing or it isn’t?”
Yngvar was not to be hurried, despite the fact that his toes had gone numb. He rose abruptly to his feet, marched over to what appeared to be a large ceremonial drum, and plopped himself down on it with a sigh of relief. Delu looked considerably shocked; her husband silenced her words of protest with a look.
“The work,” said the dwarf slowly, glowering from beneath his bushy eyebrows, “is finished.”
“What?” Dumaka exclaimed.
“The ships were built”—Yngvar snapped his fingers—”in less time than it took me to do that.”
Haplo smiled, well pleased.
“That is not possible,” argued Delu. “You must be mistaken. Our most powerful sorcerers—”
“—are as children compared to these dragon-snakes,” stated Yngvar bluntly. “I am not mistaken. I have never seen such magic. The sun-chasers were so many splinters, floating on the water. The dragon-snakes came up to look at the ships, surrounded them. Their green eyes glowed red, brighter than the furnace in which we forge our axes. They spoke strange words. The sea boiled. The pieces of wood flew into the air and, as if one knew another, rushed together as a bride rushes to the arms of her groom. And there they stand—the sun-chasers. Exactly as we built them. Except that now”—the dwarf added, glowering— “none of my people will go near them. And that includes me.”