He backed away a step, shoved his hands in his pockets.
“No,” he mumbled. “Thank you, but I’m all right. I’m… I’m sorry,” he repeated again, to the first woman, who was regarding him with cool pity.
Hunching his shoulders, keeping his hands in his pockets, Haplo strode away rapidly, hoping to lose himself in the winding streets. The dog, confused, fell into step behind him, its unhappy gaze fixed on its master.
Alone and unseen, Haplo leaned against a building and tried to stop his body’s trembling.
“What is wrong with me? I don’t trust anyone—not even my own people, my own kind! The serpents’ doing! They’ve put this fear in me. Every time I look at anyone from now on, I’ll wonder: Is he an enemy? Is she one of them? I won’t be able to trust anyone anymore! And soon, everyone in all the worlds will be forced to live like this! Xar, my lord,” he cried in agony, “why can’t you see?”
“I have to make him understand!” Haplo muttered feverishly. “I have to make my people understand. How? How can I convince them of something I’m not certain I understand? How can I convince myself?”
He walked and walked, not knowing where, not caring. And then he found himself standing outside the city, on a barren plain. A wall, covered with Sartan runes of warding, blocked his way. Strong enough to kill, these sigla prohibited anyone coming near the wall on either side. There was only one passageway through the wall. This was the Final Gate.
The Gate led out of … or into … the Labyrinth.
Haplo stood before the Gate, without any very clear idea why he was here, why he’d come. He stared at it, expenencing the mingled sensations of horror and fear and dread that always assailed him whenever he ventured near this place.
The land around him was silent, and he imagined he could hear the voices of those trapped inside, pleading for help, shouting in defiance, screaming curses with their dying breaths on those who had locked them in this place.
Haplo felt wretched, as he always did whenever he came here. He wanted to go in and help, wanted to join the fight, wanted to ease the dying with promises of vengeance. But his memories, his fear were strong hands holding him, keeping him back.
Yet he’d come here for a reason, and certainly not to stand staring at the Gate.
The dog pawed at his leg and whined, seemed to be trying to tell him something.
“Hush, boy,” Haplo ordered, shoving the dog away.
The dog became more frantic. Haplo looked around, saw nothing, no one. He ignored the animal, stared at the Gate, feeling increasingly frustrated. He’d come here for a reason, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what that reason was.
“I know what it’s like,” someone commiserated, a voice booming right behind him. “I know just how you feel.”
Haplo had been quite alone. At the sudden utterance, spoken directly in his ear, he sprang back, instantly on the defensive, runes tingling, this time with a welcome sensation of protection.
He faced nothing more alarming than a very old man with a long scraggly beard, dressed in mouse-colored robes and wearing an extremely disreputable-looking pointed hat. Haplo couldn’t speak for astonishment, but his silence didn’t bother the old man, who carried on with his conversation.
“Know exactly how you feel. Felt that way myself. I recall once walking along, thinking of something extremely important. It was, let me see, ah, yes! The theory of relativity. ‘E equals mc squared.’ By George, I’ve got it! I said to myself. I saw the Whole Picture, and then, the next moment, bam! it was gone. No reason. Just gone.”
The old man looked aggrieved. “Then some wiseacre named Einstein claimed he’d thought of it first! Humpf! I always wrote things down on my shirtsleeves after that. Didn’t work either, though. Best ideas… pressed, folded, and starched.” He heaved a sigh.
Haplo recovered himself. “Zifnab,” he said in disgust, but he didn’t relax his defensive posture. The serpents could take any form. Though this was not, on second thought, exactly the form he would have chosen.