“I told him that Grundle and I had found a place in back of the longhouse where we could . . . well, that is …”
“Listen in?” Haplo suggested.
“We have a right,” Grundle stated. “This all happened because of us. We should be there.”
“I agree,” said Haplo quietly, to calm the irate dwarf. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, finish telling me about Devon.”
“At first, he seemed almost angry to see me. He said he didn’t want to listen to anything our parents said. He didn’t care. Then, suddenly, he cheered up. He was almost too cheerful, somehow. It was . . . kind of awful.” She shuddered.
“He told me he was hungry. He knew dinner would be a long time coming, what with the meeting and all, and he asked me if I could find him something to eat. I told him I could and tried to persuade him to come with me. He didn’t want to leave the guesthouse, he said. The people staring at him made him nervous.
“I thought it would be good if he ate something; I don’t think he’s eaten in days. And so I left to fetch food. There were other elves with him. On the way, I ran into Grundle, looking for me. I brought her along, thinking she might be able to cheer up Devon. When we got back to the lodge”—Alake spread her hands—”he was gone.”
Haplo didn’t like the sounds of any of this. He’d known people in the Labyrinth who suddenly couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand the pain, the horror, the loss of a friend, a mate. He’d seen the ghastly cheerfulness that often came after a severe despondency.
Alake saw the grirn expression on his face. She moaned, covered her mouth with her hand. Grundle tugged at her side whiskers in black gloom.
“He’s probably just taking a walk,” Haplo repeated. “Did you look for him in the village? Maybe he went after Eliason?”
“He didn’t,” said Alake softly. “When we got back to the guesthouse, I searched around back. I found . . . tracks. His tracks, I’m certain. They lead right into the jungle.”
That clinches it, thought Haplo. Aloud, he added, “Keep quiet. Try to act as if nothing’s the matter, and take me there, quickly.”
The three hurried back to the elven guesthouse. They took a circuitous route, kept to the fringes of the crowds, avoided the assembly gathered around the longhouse.
Haplo could see Dumaka, greeting the dwarven dignitaries. He was glancing about, perhaps in search of the Patryn. At that moment, Eliason stepped forward, prepared to present his party. Haplo was thankful to note that there were numerous elves present; he hoped they all had long names.
Alake led him to the back of the guesthouse, pointed to the moist ground. The tracks were footprints—too long and narrow for dwarves—and undoubtedly made by booted feet. Phondrans, without exception, all went barefoot.
Haplo swore silently beneath his breath.
“Have the other elves in the guesthouse missed him yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Alake replied. “They’re all outside, watching the ceremony.”
“I’ll go look for him. You two stay here, in case he comes back.”
“We’re going with you,” said Grundle.
“Yes. He’s our friend.” Alake joined her.
Haplo glared at them, but the dwarf’s jaw was set firm, her small arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Alake regarded him calmly, steadfastly. There would be an argument, and he didn’t have time.
“Come on, then.”
The two girls started down the path, stopped when they realized Haplo wasn’t following.
“What is it? What are you doing?” Alake asked. “Shouldn’t we hurry?”
Haplo had squatted down, was quickly tracing sigla in the mud over the elf’s footprints. He breathed soft words; the sigla flashed green, and suddenly began to grow and sprout. Plants and weeds sprang up, covering the path, obliterating any sign of the elf’s footprints.
“This is no time,” snapped Grundle, “to start a garden.”
“They’ll be looking for him soon.” Rising to his feet, Haplo watched the plants completely overrun the path. “I’m making certain no one comes after us. We’ll do what needs to be done, tell whatever story we need to tell. Agreed?”