He could warn someone, but who?… Warn them of what? Xar? Why should Xar believe him? Haplo wasn’t sure he believed himself.
The fevered dreaming and plotting, the eventual ice-cold deliberation and rejection were not the worst of what Haplo suffered in his prison. He knew that Sang-drax knew every scheme, every desperate grasp. And Haplo knew that the serpent-elf approved of all of them, was actually mentally encouraging Haplo to act.
And thus, as his only form of rebellion against the serpent-elf and his prison, the Patryn did nothing. But he found little satisfaction in that, for Sang-drax thoroughly approved of this, too.
Haplo did nothing during the voyage, and did it with a grim ferocity that worried the dog, frightened Jarre, and apparently daunted Bane, for the child took care to keep clear of the Patryn’s path. Bane was up to other devices. Haplo’s one source of amusement was to watch the child working hard to ingratiate himself with Sang-drax.
“Not exactly the person I’d choose to put my trust in,” Haplo warned Bane.
“Who should I choose? You?” Bane sneered. “A lot of good you were to me! You let the elves capture us. If it hadn’t been for me and my quick thinking we’d all be dead by now.”
“What do you see when you look at him?”
“An elf.” Bane was sarcastic. “Why, what do you see?”
“You know what I mean. With that clairvoyant talent of yours. What images come to your mind?”
Bane looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Never mind what I see. It’s my business. And I know what I’m doing. Just leave me alone.”
Yeah, you know what you’re doing, kid, Haplo thought tiredly. And maybe you do, after all. I sure as hell don’t.
Haplo had one hope. It was a fleeting one, and he wasn’t certain it was hope or what to do about it. He had come to the conclusion that the serpents didn’t know about the automaton and its connection to the Kicksey-winsey.
He’d discovered this by eavesdropping on a conversation taking place between Sang-drax and Jarre. Haplo found it darkly fascinating to watch the serpent in action, watch him spread the contagion of hatred and divisiveness, watch it infect those who might have once been immune.
Shortly after arriving in the Mid Realm, the dragonship flew to Tolthom, an elven farming community, to drop off a shipment of water.* They did not stay long, but unloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible, this isle being a favored target of human water pirates. Every elf on board stood armed and ready to fend off possible attack. The human galley slaves, who operated the dragonship’s gigantic wings, were brought up on deck, in plain view. Guards stood nearby, arrows nocked, prepared to shoot the prisoners through the heart should any humans attack. Tolthom’s own dragonships circled overhead as the precious water was pumped from the ship into giant holding tanks on the continent.
*Any dragonship, even one carrying political prisoners, would be required to take water up into the Mid Realm. The elves stockpiled water on Drev-lin prior to the shutting down of the Kicksey-winsey. They had also developed various means of collecting the rainwater from the almost continual storms that sweep Drevlin. This was certainly not enough for the requirements of the Mid Realm, however.
Haplo stood on deck, watching the water flow, watching the sun glisten on its sparkling surface, and imagined his life flowing like the water, pouring out of him, and knew he was as powerless to stop it as he was to stop the water. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Standing near him, the dog whined in anxious concern, rubbed its head against his knee, trying to get his attention.
Haplo would have reached down to pet the animal, but reaching took too much effort.
“Go away,” he told the dog.
Hurt, the animal wandered over to Jarre, curled up unhappily at her feet.
Haplo leaned over the rail, watched the water.
“I’m sorry, Limbeck. I understand, now.”
The words came to Haplo through the dog’s ears.
Jarre stood some distance away from him, staring in awe at the coralite isle floating in the pearl-blue sky. The busy port town’s streets were filled with people. Small, neat houses lined the coralite cliffs. Wagons trundled down the streets, formed a row, each farmer waiting patiently for his or her share of water. The elves laughed and visited together, their children played and ran in the sunshine and open air.