“Answer him, fool,” snapped the dragon. “It’s what you came to tell him in the first place!”
“I did?” The old man cast a deprecating glance upward, then, blushing, said, “Oh, yes. Quite.”
“A son,” Haplo repeated. “You’re certain?”
“No, I’m Sartan. Hah! Caught you!” Zifnab cackled. “Well, yes, you have a son, dear boy. Congratulations.” He reached out, shook Haplo’s hand again. “Unless, of course, it’s a daughter,” the old man added, after giving the matter some thought.
Haplo waved that aside impatiently. “A child. You’re saying a child of mine was bom and… that child is trapped in there.” He pointed at the Final Gate. “In the Labyrinth.”
“I’m afraid so,” said Zifnab, voice softening. He was suddenly serious, grave. “The woman, the one you loved… She didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Haplo had little idea what he was saying, to whom he was saying it. “She didn’t. But I guess I always knew…. Speaking of knowing, how the hell do you know, old man?”
“Ah, he’s got you there,” said the dragon. “Explain that, if you can!”
Zifnab appeared rather flustered. “Well, you see, I once… That is to say, I ran into a chap, who knew a chap, who’d once met…”
“What am I doing?” Haplo demanded of himself. He wondered if he were going mad. “How would you know anything? It’s a trick. That’s it. A trick to force me into going back into the Labyrinth—”
“Oh, dear, no! No, my boy,” said Zifhab earnestly. “I’m trying to keep you out of it.”
“By telling me that a child of mine is trapped inside?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go back, Haplo. I’m saying that you shouldn’t go back now. It isn’t time. You have much to do before then. And, above all, you shouldn’t go back alone.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “That is, after all, what you were thinking about when we found you here, wasn’t it? You were going to enter the Labyrinth, search for Alfred?”
Haplo frowned, made no response. The dog, at the sound of Alfred’s name, wagged its tail and looked up hopefully.
“You were going to find Alfred and take him to Abarrach with you,” Zifhab continued in a soft voice. “Why? Because there, on Abarrach, in the so-called Chamber of the Damned, there’s where you’ll find the answers. You can’t get into the chamber on your own. The Sartan have it well guarded. And Alfred’s the only Sartan who would dare disobey the orders of the Council and unlock the runes of warding. That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it, Haplo?”
Haplo shrugged. He was staring moodily at the Final Gate. “What if it was?”
“It isn’t time, yet. You must get the machine working. Then the citadels will begin to shine. The durnai will awaken. When all that happens—if all that happens—the Labyrinth will start to change. Better for you. Better for them.” Zifiiab gave the Gate an ominous nod.
Haplo glared at him. “Do you ever make sense?”
Zifiiab looked alarmed, shook his head. “I try not to. Gives me gas. But now you’ve interrupted. What else was I going to say?”
“He is not to go alone,” intoned the dragon.
“Ah, yes. You’re not to go alone, my boy,” said Ziftiab brightly, as if he’d just thought of it himself. “Not into the Labyrinth, not into the Vortex. Certainly not into Abarrach.”
The dog barked, deeply wounded.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Zifnab. Reaching out, he gave the animal a timid pat. “Sincere apologies and all that. I know you’ll be with him, but that won’t be enough, I’m afraid. I was thinking more in terms of a group. Commando squads. The Dirty Dozen. Kelly’s Heroes. The Seven Samurai. Debbie Does Dallas. That sort of thing. Well, perhaps not Debbie Wonderful girl, Debbie, but—”
“Sir,” said the dragon, exasperated, “need I remind you that we are in the Nexus. Not exactly the place I’d choose to indulge in prepubescent fantasies.”
“Ah, yes. Perhaps you’re right.” Zifnab clutched his hat, glanced about nervously. “Place has changed a lot since I was here last. You Patryns have done wonders. I don’t suppose I’d have time to pop over and look at—”