Serpent Mage by Weis, Margaret

Opening his eyes, Haplo looked up at her and smiled.

“Hullo,” he said in her language. “Alake, isn’t it?”

The girl was human and one of the most attractive human females Haplo’d ever seen. She’ll be a beauty, he thought, when she grows up. Her skin was soft, velvet black; her hair was so black as to be almost blue and shone as brightly as a raven’s wing. Her eyes were large and melting brown. Despite a very understandable amount of alarm, she remained where she was, didn’t run away.

“That smells good,” he continued, reaching out his hands for the food. “I don’t know how long I drifted in the sea, without anything to eat. Days maybe. Alake, that’s your name. Right?” he repeated.

The girl placed the dish in his hands. Her eyes were lowered. “Yes,” she said shyly. “My name is Alake. How did you know?”

“A lovely name,” he said. “Almost as lovely as the woman it graces.”

He was rewarded with a smile and a flutter of long lashes. Haplo began to eat, some sort of stew and a loaf of slightly stale bread.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, his mouth full. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. “Come in. Let’s talk.”

“We’re afraid we’re disturbing your rest,” began Alake, glancing at her two companions, who had remained standing by the door.

Haplo shook his head, gestured with a hunk of bread. Alake sat down nearest him, but not close enough to be considered immodest. The elf maid crept inside the door and found a seat in a chair in the shadows. She moved awkwardly, lacking the grace Haplo normally associated with elves. But perhaps that was because she was wearing a dress that appeared to be too small for her. A shawl covered her arms. A long silken veil was wrapped around her head and face, leaving nothing showing except her almond-shaped eyes.

The dwarf stumped in on short, thick legs, squatted down comfortably on the floor, folded her arms across her chest, and regarded Haplo with deep suspicion.

“Where do you come from?” she demanded, speaking dwarven.

“Grundle!” Alake reprimanded. “Let him eat his dinner.”

The dwarf ignored her. “Where do you come from? Who sent you? Was it the dragon-snakes?”

Haplo took his time answering. He cleaned his bowl out with the bread, asked for something to drink. The dwarf wordlessly passed over a bottle of some strong-smelling liquor.

“Would you rather have water?” Alake inquired anxiously.

Haplo thought privately that he’d had water enough to last him a lifetime, but he didn’t want to lose his faculties in the bottom of a brandy bottle, and so he nodded.

“Grundle—” Alake began.

“I’ll go,” murmured the elf maid, and left the small room.

“My name is Haplo,” he began.

“You told us that last night,” Grundle stated.

“Don’t interrupt!” Alake said, flashing her friend an angry glance.

Grundle muttered something and leaned back against the wall, her small feet propped out in front of her.

“The ship in which I sailed broke apart. I managed to escape, and drifted about in the water until you found me and were kind enough to take me on board.” Haplo smiled again at Alake, who lowered her eyes and toyed with the brass beads in her hair. “As for where I’m from, you’ve probably never heard of the name, but it’s a world much like your own.”

That was a safe enough answer. He might have known it wouldn’t satisfy the dwarf.

“A seamoon like ours?”

“Something similar.”

“How do you know what our seamoon is like?”

“All know that the . . . um . . . seamoons of Chelestra are the same,” Haplo answered.

Grundle jabbed a finger at him. “Why do you draw pictures on your skin?”

“Why do dwarves wear beards?” Haplo countered.

“That’s enough, Grundle!” Alake snapped. “What he says makes perfect sense.”

“Oh, he can talk well enough,” the dwarf returned. “Not that he said much of anything, if you’ll notice. But I’d like to hear what he’s got to say about the dragon-snakes.”

The elf maid had returned with the water. Handing the pitcher to Alake, the elf said, in a low voice, “Grundle is right. We need to know about the dragon-snakes.”

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