Serpent Mage by Weis, Margaret

“But I’m speaking the human language . . .”

“Dev-Sabia, you try,” I said, stuttering as badly as Alake. “Maybe he isn’t human, after all.”

The elf pulled the scarf down from around his mouth. “Where do you come from? What is your name?” he asked, speaking the musical Elmas language slowly and distinctly.

The stranger, frowning, shifted his eyes to Devon. The look of frustration changed to fury. Propping himself up on one arm, he shouted at us. We couldn’t understand him, either, but we didn’t need a translator.

“Get out!” he was yelling as plain as anything. “Get out and leave me alone!”

He collapsed back on the blankets, groaning. His eyes closed, he’d broken out in a sweat. But his lips continued to move, forming the words he no longer had the strength to utter.

“Poor man,” said Alake softly. “He’s lost and sick and afraid.”

“That may be,” I said, having my own opinion on the subject, “but I think we better do what he wants.”

“Will . . . will he be all right?” Alake couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“He’ll be fine,” I assured her, trying to edge her out the door. “If we stay, we’ll only upset him.”

“Grundle’s right,” Devon added. “We should leave him alone to rest.”

“I think I should stay with him,” Alake said.

Devon and I exchanged alarmed glances. The stranger’s savage yell and his dark expression had unnerved us both. As if we didn’t have trouble enough, it looked to me like we now had an insane human on our hands.

“Shh,” I said, “you’ll wake him. Let’s talk out in the corridor.”

We herded the reluctant Alake out of the room.

“One of us should keep an eye on him,” Devon whispered in my ear.

I nodded, taking his meaning. One of us shouldn’t be Alake.

“I’ll bring my blanket out here . . .” She was already making plans to spend the night near him.

“No, no, you go to bed. I’ll sit up with him. I’m experienced in this sickness.” I cut off her protest. “He’ll likely sleep for hours now, anyway. You should be well-rested and ready to tend him in the morning, when he wakes up.”

She brightened at the prospect, but she still wavered, her gaze going to the door I had shut behind me. “I don’t know …”

“I’ll call you if there’s any change,” I promised. “You don’t want him to see you in the morning all red-eyed and sleepy, do you?”

That clinched it. Alake bid us good-night, took one last peep at her patient, smiled softly to herself, and went off down the corridor.

“What do we do now?” Devon demanded, when she was gone.

“How should I know?” I snapped irritably.

“Well, you’re a girl. You know about these things.”

“What things?” I asked, though I knew well enough what he was talking about.

“It’s obvious. She’s attracted to him.”

“Pooh! I remember when she rescued a wounded wolf cub once. She took it home and treated it the same way.”

“That’s no wolf cub,” said Devon gravely. “He’s young and strong and handsome and well-built, even for a human. It was all Alake and I could do to drag him down the corridor.”

Which brought up another problem. If this man went berserk and decided to tear the ship apart, we three would be hard-pressed to stop him. But what about the dragon-snakes? It was obvious they were still in control; the ship continued to rush through the water. Did they know this stranger was aboard? Did they care?

I took a swig of the brandywine. “Go to bed,” I told Devon crossly. “We’re not going to figure anything out tonight. Maybe something’ll happen by morning.”

Something did.

I went back into the room with the man and settled myself in a dark corner near the door. If the human woke, I figured I could be up and out of there before he knew what was happening.

His sleep was restless, disturbed. He thrashed about on the blankets, muttering in his own language, whose words all seemed to me to be dark and sharp-edged and filled with hatred and anger. Sometimes he’d cry out, and once he gave a fearful scream and sat bolt upright, staring straight at me. I was on my feet and nearly out the door before I realized he wasn’t seeing me at all.