Orla frowned. “You believe the Patryn is here, on Chelestra?”
“It certainly makes sense. This is the fourth world, the last world he was to visit before—” He stopped.
“—before the Patryns launch their attack.”
Alfred nodded silently.
“I can understand why this knowledge that our enemy may be in this world disturbs you. Yet you seem more sad than upset.” Orla stared down at the animal in perplexity. “Why are you so worried over a lost dog?”
“Because,” Alfred replied gravely, “if the dog has lost Haplo, then I fear Haplo may have lost himself.”
CHAPTER » 11
ADRIFT SOMEWHERE THE GOODSEA
LAY ON HIS PALLET ON BOARD THE STRANGE VESSEL, DOING nothing but resting and staring at his arms and his hands. The sigla were as yet only faintly visible—a blue as pale and weak as the eyes of that fool Sartan, Alfred. But the runes were there! They’d come back! And with them, his magic. Haplo closed his eyes, breathed deeply, a sigh of relief.
He recalled those terrible moments when he’d regained consciousness on board this ship, discovered himself surrounded by mensch, and known himself to be helpless, defenseless. He couldn’t even understand what they were saying!
It hadn’t mattered that they were females, barely old enough to be out of the nursery. It hadn’t mattered that they had been gentle and kind, that they had regarded him with awe, sympathy, pity. What mattered was that they had been in control of the situation. Haplo, weak from exhaustion, hunger, bereft of his magic, had been at their mercy. For a moment, he had bitterly regretted seeking their help. Better he should have perished.
But, now, the magic was returning. His power was coming back. Like the sigla, the magic was weak still. He couldn’t do much beyond the most rudimentary rune structures; he’d regressed back to his childhood magical abilities. He could understand languages, speak them. He could probably provide himself with food, if necessary. He could heal any minor hurts. And that was about it.
Thinking what he lacked, Haplo was suddenly angry, frustrated. He forced himself to calm down. To give way to his anger was to lose control again.
“Patience,” he said to himself, lying back on his bed. “You learned it the hard way in the Labyrinth. Be calm and be patient.”
He didn’t appear to be in any danger. Though just exactly what the situation was wasn’t clear. He’d tried to talk to the three mensch girls, but they’d been so astounded at his sudden use of their language—and the startling appearance of the runes on his skin—that they’d fled before he could question them further.
Haplo had waited, tensely, for some older mensch to enter and demand to know what was going on. But no one came. Lying still, straining to listen, Haplo heard nothing except the creaking of the ship’s timbers. He would have almost supposed, if it hadn’t seemed too improbable, that he and these girls were the only ones on board.
“I was too hard on them,” Haplo counseled himself. “I’ll have to take it easy, be careful not to startle them again. They could be of use to me.” He looked around in satisfaction. “It seems likely that I’ve got myself another ship.”
He was feeling stronger every moment, and had just about decided he would risk leaving his cabin to go in search of someone, when he heard a soft tapping on his door. Quickly, Haplo lay back down, pulled the blanket up around him, and pretended to be asleep.
The tapping repeated. He heard voices—three voices—debating what to do. The door creaked. It was being opened slowly. He could imagine eyes peering in at him.
“Go on, Alake!” That was the dwarf, her voice low and gruff.
“But he’s asleep! I’m afraid I’ll wake him.”
“Just set the food down and go.” An elf maid. Her voice was light and high-pitched, but Haplo caught himself thinking there was something not quite right about it.
Haplo heard the sound of bare feet padding into his room. He deemed it time to wake up now, slowly, careful not to frighten anyone. He drew a deep breath, stirred, and groaned. The footsteps came to an abrupt halt. He heard the girl suck in her breath.