“We have no idea whether the mensch made it safely or not. Certainly, they stood a better chance than we did. The seawater has no effect on them or their magic. In fact, they seem to thrive on it. We stayed behind, waiting for the seasun to leave us, waiting for the ice to close over us … and over our enemy. We were fairly certain, you see, that the dragons wanted us. They cared little for the mensch.”
“And we were right. The dragons kept up the attack on our city,” Orla continued, “but never in numbers sufficient to win. Victory did not seem to be their goal. Pain, suffering, anguish— that is what they wanted. Our hope was to wait, buy time. Each day the sun’s warmth lessened, the darkness gathered around us. Perhaps the dragons, intent on their hatred for us, did not notice. Or perhaps they thought their magic could overcome it. Or, perhaps, at the end, they fled. All we know is that one day the sea froze and on that day the dragons did not appear. On that day, we sent a final message to our people in the worlds beyond, asking that in a hundred years they come to wake us. And we went to sleep.”
“I doubt if they ever got your message,” said Alfred. “Or if they did, they couldn’t have come. Each world had its own problems, it seems.” He sighed, then blinked. “Thank you for telling me. I understand better now and I … I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I thought . . .” He stared at his shoes, shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
“You thought we had abandoned our responsibility,” Samah said grimly.
“I’ve seen it before. On Abarrach . . .” Alfred gulped.
The Councillor said nothing, looked at him expectantly. All the Council members were looking at him expectantly.
Now you understand, they were telling him. Now you know what to do.
Except that he didn’t. Alfred spread trembling hands.
“What is it you want of me? Do you want me to help fight the dragons? I know something about the creatures, those we have on Arianus. But they seem to me to be very weak and ineffectual dragons, compared to these serpents you’ve described. And as for experimenting with seawater, I’m afraid—”
“No, Brother,” Samah interrupted. “Nothing so difficult. You told Orla that the arrival of this dog on Chelestra meant that the dog’s master was also on Chelestra. You have the animal. We want you to find the master and bring him to us.”
“No,” said Alfred, flustered, nervous. “I couldn’t . . . He let me go, you see, when he could have taken me prisoner to the Labyrinth—”
“We have no intention of harming this Patryn.” Samah’s tone was soothing. “We only want to ask him questions, discover the truth about the Labyrinth, his people’s suffering. Who knows, Brother, but that this could be the beginning of peace negotiations between our people? If you refuse, and war breaks out, how could you live with yourself, knowing that it had once been in your power to prevent it?”
“But I don’t know where to look,” Alfred protested. “And I wouldn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t come—”
“Wouldn’t he? To face the enemy he has longed to challenge? Consider it,” Samah added before the flustered Alfred had time to think up another argument. “Perhaps you can use the dog as your means of getting him to return.”
“Surely, you aren’t going to refuse a request of the Council?” asked Orla softly. “A request that is so reasonable? One that affects the safety of us all?”
“No, of … of course not,” Alfred said unhappily.
He looked down at the dog.
The animal cocked its head, thumped its plumy tail on the floor, and grinned.
CHAPTER * 14
THE GOODSEA CHELESTRA
LAY FLAT ON HIS BED, STARING AT THE BACKS OF HIS HANDS.
The sigla tattooed on the skin were a deeper, darker blue; his magic was growing stronger every moment. And the runes were beginning to glow faintly, the prickling sensation tingled over his body—the warning signal of danger, far away still, yet rapidly approaching.