Sang-drax, posting himself beside Haplo, indicated a human male, clad as a common laborer, who came forward to stand in the center of the group. “The Royal One,” the serpent-elf said, speaking Patryn.
“I thought you were dead,” said Haplo, his words slurred and faltering, but coherent.
The serpent king looked confused for a moment, then laughed. “Ah, yes. Chelestra. No, I am not dead. We can never die.”
“You looked pretty dead to me, after Alfred was finished with you.”
“The Serpent Mage? I admit that he killed a part of me, but for every part of me that dies, two more parts are born. We live, you see, as long as you live. You keep us alive. We are indebted to you.” The serpent-human bowed.
Haplo stared, confused. “Then what is your true form? Are you snakes or dragons or mensch or what?”
“We are whatever you want us to be,” said the serpent king. “You give us shape, as you give us life.”
“Meaning you adapt to the world you’re in, whatever suits your purpose,” Haplo spoke slowly, his thoughts struggling through a drugged haze. “In the Nexus, you were a Patryn. On Chelestra, it suited your purpose to appear in the guise of terrifying snakes…”
“Here, we can be more subtle,” said the serpent king, with a casual wave of his hand. “We have no need to appear as ferocious monsters to throw this world into the turmoil and chaos on which we thrive. We have only to be its citizens.”
The others in the room laughed appreciatively.
Shape-changers, Haplo realized. The evil can assume any form, any guise. On Chelestra—dragon-snakes; in this world —mensch; in the Nexus—his own people. No one will recognize them, no one will know they are here. They can go anywhere, do anything, foment wars, keep dwarf fighting elf, elf fighting human… Sartan fighting Patryn. Too eager to hate, never realizing our hatred makes us weak, we are open and vulnerable to the evil that will eventually devour us all!
“Why have you brought me here?” Haplo asked, almost too sick and despairing to care.
“To tell you our plans.”
Haplo sneered. “A waste of time, since you intend to kill me.”
“No, no, that would be the waste!”
Walking past rows of elves and dwarves and humans, the serpent king came to stand directly in front of Haplo. “You still haven’t grasped it, yet, have you, Patryn?”
The king reached out his hand, stabbed a finger at Haplo’s chest, tapped it. “We live only so long as you live. Fear, hatred, vengeance, terror, pain, suffering—that is the foul and turgid quagmire in which we breed. You live in peace and each of us dies a little bit. You live in fear and your life gives us life.”
“I’ll fight you!” Haplo mumbled.
“Of course you will!” laughed the serpent-human.
Haplo rubbed his aching head, his bleary eyes. “I get it. That’s what you want”
“Now you are beginning to understand. The harder you struggle, the stronger we grow.”
What about Xar? Haplo wondered. You pledged to serve him. Is that, too, a trick… ?
“We will serve your lord.” The serpent king was sincere, earnest.
Haplo scowled. He had forgotten they could read his thoughts.
“We serve Xar with enthusiasm,” the serpent king continued. “We are with him on Abarrach, in the guise of Patryns, of course. We are assisting him to learn the secret of necromancy. We will join his army when he launches his attack, aid him in his war, fight his battles, do willingly whatever he asks of us. And after that…”
“You’ll destroy him.”
“We will be forced to, I’m afraid. Xar wants unity, peace. Achieved through tyranny and fear, of course. We’d gain some sustenance from that but, all in all, a starvation diet”
“And the Sartan?”
“Oh, we don’t play favorites. We’re working with them, as well. Samah was inordinately pleased with himself when several ‘Sartan’ answered his call, came to ‘their dear brothers’ from out of Death’s Gate. He has gone to Abarrach, but, in his absence, the newby arrived ‘Sartan’ are urging their fellow Sartan to declare war upon the mensch.
“And, soon, even the peaceful mensch of Chelestra will fall to quarreling among themselves. Or should I say… ourselves.”