Again, she stopped herself.
“Send?” Alfred prompted.
Orla’s expression grew chill. She changed the subject. “Samah’s plan should have worked. Why didn’t it? What caused it to fail?” She glared at him, almost accusingly.
Not me! was Alfred’s immediate protest. It wasn’t my fault.
But, then again, maybe it was, he reflected uncomfortably. Certainly I’ve done nothing to make things better.
Orla walked back down the corridor, her steps brisk. “We’ve been away too long. The others will be worried about us.”
The runelight began to fade.
“He is lying.”
“But, Father, that’s not possible. He’s a Sartan—”
“A weak-minded Sartan, who has been traveling in the company of a Patryn, Ramu. J-te’s obviously been corrupted, his mind taken over. We cannot blame him. He has had no Councillor to turn to, no one to help him in his time of trial.”
“Is he lying about everything?”
“No, I don’t believe so,” Samah said, after a moment’s profound thought. “The images of our people lying dead in their sleeping chambers on Arianus, the images of the Sartan practicing the forbidden art of necromancy on Abarrach, were too real, far too real. But those images were brief, fleeting. I’m not certain I understand. We must question him further to learn exactly what has happened. Mostly, though, I must know more about this Patryn.”
“I understand. And what is it you would have me do, Father?”
“Be friendly to this Alfred, Son. Encourage him to talk, draw him out, agree with all he says, sympathize. The man is lonely, starved for those of his own kind. He hides in a shell he has built for his own defense. We will crack it with kindness and, once we have opened it, then we can set about his reclamation.
“I have, in fact, already started.” Samah glanced complacently down the darkened corridor.
“Indeed?” His son’s gaze followed.
“Yes. I’ve turned the wretched man over to your mother. He will be more likely to share his true thoughts with her than with us.”
“But will she share her knowledge?” Ramu wondered. “It seems to me she has taken a liking to the man.”
“She always did befriend every stray who came begging at our door.” Samah shrugged. “But there is nothing more to it than that. She will tell us. She is loyal to her people. Just prior to the Sundering, she sided with me, supported me, abandoned all her objections. And so the rest of the Council was forced to go along. Yes, she’ll tell me what I need to know. Especially once she understands that our goal is to help the poor man.”
Ramu bowed to his father’s wisdom, started to leave.
“All the same, Ramu.” Samah stopped his son. “Keep your eyes open. I do not trust this . . . Alfred.”
CHAPTER * 9
ADRIFT, SOMEWHERE THE GOODSEA
SOMETHING EXCEEDINGLY STRANGE HAS OCCURRED AND i HAVE been (mercifully) so busy that I have had no time to write until now. But at last all is quiet, the excitement has subsided, and we are left only to wonder: What will happen to us now?
Where shall I start? Thinking back, I see it all began with Alake’s magical attempt to summon the dolphins and speak to them. We wanted to find out, if possible, where we were headed and what we faced, even if our fate was a terrible one. It is the “not knowing” that is so difficult to bear.
I have said that we were adrift in the sea. That is not precisely accurate, as Devon pointed out to us during our midday meal. We are traveling in a specific direction, guided by the dragon-snakes. We have no control over the ship. We cannot even get near the steerage.
A terrible feeling comes over us when we walk in that direction. It saps the strength from our legs, leaves them wobbly and unable to move. It fills the heart and mind with images of death and dying. The one time we tried, we turned and fled in a panic, to hide, cowering, in our rooms. I dream of it still.
It was after that incident, when we’d recovered, that Alake decided to try to contact the dolphins.