Haplo didn't know if it was Alfred's confession or their proximity to Drevlin with its crystal tombs, but his dreams that night were not his own. He dreamed that he was a young child in soft white robes, his body unmarred by blue tatoos, too young to understand why his father wouldn't be coming back. His mother, driven to distraction by the boy's questions and her own grief at Illiel's death, eventually snapped at him, frightened him into his room, where he grieved in his own way. He might not understand entirely, but even as a child, he realized that life would be very different now- and not for the better.
The Patryn woke with tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.
Angry- with himself for being so weak, with Alfred for making him that way, with Marit and Bane for causing him additional stress- he rubbed his eyes, supposedly to get the sleep out of them but really to mask his emotions. If Marit caught him mourning a long-dead Sartan man he'd never even met, there was no telling what she would do, what she would say to Xar. He needed to be strong for her, for his lord, to convince them both of the truth. Neither would trust him if he let Alfred turn him into a sentimental weakling.
Fortunately, no one else had seen him. They were all either asleep or out of the room or both. Not even the dog was awake.
A groan made its way up Haplo's throat. The dog. Another problem.
What was he supposed to do about his soul?
"Should've stayed asleep," the Patryn grumbled. Across the room, Alfred shifted in his slumber. The dog's ears twitched. He looked up and grinned
Haplo patted his thigh. "Here, boy."
The dog stretched luxuriously before trotting over to his master. The goofy grin hadn't left his face.
Step one complete. Time for step two. Haplo placed his hand on his breast, over the heart-rune. "In."
The dog tilted his head.
"In," Haplo repeated more firmly, thumping his hand against his chest.
The dog's ears pricked up. His head tilted further to the left.
Haplo lost all patience. "Give me back my soul, you mangy mutt."
The dog huffed. Alfred, startled, lifted his head. He blinked blearily at the Patryn and hound.
"Alfred, do you have any ideas about…?" Haplo gestured at the dog, which was now scratching his ear and ignoring his master.
"I'm afraid not."
Haplo sighed; he'd expected as much. "Let me know if you think of anything, all right? For now, I have to take the dog outside." Though why the mutt needed to go outside when he was a piece of someone else's soul was beyond him.
When he and the dog (which had by now forgiven him for use of the word 'mutt') returned, it was to find Bane harassing Alfred yet again while Marit inspected the ship's runes, pointedly ignoring them both. "Were you going to lift off?" the other Patryn called. Marit nodded.
Alfred stumbled over to him, Bane at his heels. "Haplo," he began, and continued in the Sartan rune-language (which Bane could read fairly well but which he could not speak; Alfred obviously didn't want to boy to overhear), "what about…." His feet shuffled back and forth, back and forth. "…you know?"
Hugh the Hand, another thing Haplo hadn't had time to think about. But of course they'd have to do something about him eventually. Fighting back a curse, the Patryn shrugged, much more nonchalant than he actually felt. "I don't suppose you know that spell you used on the soldier?"
A wistful, mournful sigh.
"Thought not. For now, Alfred, just keep trying to remember."
Haplo had expected the Sartan, reassured against his fears and given orders, would wander off. Instead, the older man hesitantly asked, "You said I could cast spells to protect my people, but that was before we knew Marit was here. Will she let me…?" Blue eyes focused on Marit before returning their attention to Haplo.
He really shouldn't have gotten out of bed. The day just wasn't worth it.
Or perhaps it was, because Alfred changed right then and there, a hint of candlelight flickering through a thick cloth. "Never mind. I won't let her or anyone else touch my people." There was no apology in his voice, no hint of surrender in his bearing. He looked almost (almost. This was Alfred, after all) fierce.
Then he was Alfred again, but a much more serene Alfred than Haplo had ever seen. Nodding, one corner of his lip tilted upwards in a tiny half-smile, the Sartan retreated to his books, leaving the Patryn to wonder what the heck had just happened.
Bane was even more confused than the older male (Marit, who had been steering the ship, hadn't noticed their conversation). "What happened?" he demanded.
Haplo, not entirely certain himself, shrugged. Bane pouted. "No one ever tells me anything," he whined.
"We don't always understand everything," Haplo muttered, looking once again at the dog. His pet grinned as though laughing at him.
"Don't you?" Bane retorted. "I thought you were Grandfather's most trusted emissary?" His eyes glinted with so much malice that Haplo half-expected them to flash red.
Haplo's jaw tightened for half a moment before he forced it to relax. Face blank, he replied, "I am, but that doesn't mean I was chosen for my nonexistent omniscience. Lord Xar chose me because I have the capacity to learn."
"You don't seem to be doing a good job of it," Bane noted. A tiny half-smile quirked his lips, made his cherubic face into something dark and ugly. Then his expression changed, becoming boyish and innocent once again. "Perhaps you've learned everything that you can. Or maybe you've even learned too much."
The Patryn opened his mouth, was about to retort, when a glint of blue caught his eye. "Marit, Alfred," he called, taking a step forward, covering Bane's mouth.
The Sartan man and Patryn woman turned. Their eyes, blue and gold-flecked brown, went wide. "I'm not doing that!" Alfred yelped, his words clashing with Marit's furious, "What are you playing at, Sartan?"
The hexagonal runes coalesced into a shape, the outline of a man in flowing white robes. The dog snarled, lunged forward. Haplo pushed Bane aside.
The shape faded. The rune-light dimmed, vanished. No trace of the spell- of the intruder- remained.
Alfred was the first to speak. "Haplo, does your ship have any defenses against people transporting themselves into it?"
"No. It never needed any." Not until now, at least. Nor did he know a spell that could do such a thing.
Light sparked in the center of the room, bright blue and red. The luminescence coalesced into six-sided runes, which in turn flowed together in the shape of a Sartan. On either side of the Sartan, more runes appeared, gathered together. Not one, not two, but five Sartan were materializing in Haplo's ship.
The Patryn wanted to curse but restrained himself. He chanted, scrawled his own four- and eight-sided runes in the air. He needed a rope, something to keep them still. Marit jogged to his side, reciting her own spell. The floor under the Sartans' feet chilled, became coated in a slick layer of water and ice. The cold spot spread from wall to wall, covering almost all the floor. Haplo nodded. It was a good plan- take away their ability to dance, make them helpless. Alfred, too, had a good plan, singing his own spell, tracing backwards runes in the air. Light snaked from his hands, towards his kindred and their spell.
Haplo could see that the older man wasn't doing anything harmful. Quite the reverse- his magic slowed down the transportation spells, gave the Patryns more time to prepare themselves. Marit, however, didn't know Alfred quite so well. She simply saw a Sartan working his magic while other Sartan invaded, got ready for battle. So she reacted in a perfectly logical, rational way. She threw a dagger at him.
Alfred shrieked, dove for cover. His rune-structure shattered. The dagger whizzed past him, nicking the shoulder of his coat.
The first Sartan, a young man with an uncanny resemblance to Samah, finished materializing. He trotted from the icy floor to a more stable surface, began his own song and dance.
Haplo had been distracted by Marit's attempt on Alfred's life, but the strange Sartan's actions snapped him out of his surprise. He flung his rope at the intruder, hoping that he (Samah's son, probably. They had to be related, looking that much alike) hadn't inherited his father's dueling skills. At the very least this man was too young to have much experience.
But it turned out that Haplo didn't have to worry about the stranger's dueling skills, because half a second before they made their first attempts on each other's lives, the floor beneath them tilted crazily. Haplo stumbled backwards, flinging out his arms for balance. His Sartan enemy staggered, pressed a hand against the wall to steady himself. The dog yelped, slid. Bane grabbed the door, hung on for dear life.
Alfred, who, after seeing that Marit wouldn't throw any more knives at him, had been trying to get up, fell back onto an icy patch of floor. His eyes widened to comical proportions as he kept sliding across the ice, into four of his now-materialized brethren. Sartan collided with Sartan, knocking them to the ground.
Marit turned the steering wheel again; the Sartan slowed to a stop before sliding in the opposite direction. Bane, safe from his place by the door, began to laugh.
The one Sartan who wasn't currently thrashing about on the floor, trying desperately to right himself, was not quite as amused as the changeling prince. Attempting to look dignified (which was easier said than done when he had to clutch a wall just to stay upright, his body lurching back and forth), he snarled, "You who call yourself Alfred Montbank are hereby under arrest for-"
Haplo threw the rope at him. The runes coiled almost of their own accord, lashing, whipping. The Sartan sidestepped, but the rune-rope followed.
One of the Sartan on the floor, a middle-aged woman, kicked herself out of the fray. She grabbed Haplo's rune-whip, used it to pull her to her feet. Marit twisted the wheel again, but it was too late. The Sartan woman yanked the rope away from her comrade, using its magic to stay upright and free him in one go. The dog pounced, knocked her back onto the floor, skidded away to bite at the still-standing Sartan's legs.
"Keep steering," Haplo ordered. "Bane, get out of the way."
The boy stopped laughing long enough to glare. He was a prince, (well, sort of) and he did not appreciate being ordered about. Then the ship swung crazily once again. Bane fell backwards, tumbling down the hall and rendering his protests irrelevant.
"Haplo?" Alfred called. The Patryn glanced over at him, grimaced. The four other intruding Sartan had managed to right themselves. Only Alfred was still on the floor, soaked and rolling from wall to wall. Even as Haplo watched, the unfortunate man slammed into a wall, wincing in pain. He tried to push himself up, but Marit was beginning another wild turn.
The other Sartan, battered and bruised, took in their adversaries: Alfred, who was clinging to a pipe for dear life; Haplo, runes glowing, hands tracing another spell upon the air; Marit, a cold smile on her face, gripping the wheel with softly glowing hands; and the dog, which was attempting to eat (or at the very least, highly inconvenience) their leader. Not to mention that a great deal of the floor was still ice, Haplo still had command of his rune rope, and Alfred could probably nullify any of their spells.
The middle-aged woman held up her hands. "We have no wish to harm you, Patryns," she announced. The man who looked like Samah gawked at her. "We simply wish to take the traitor back for justice. Then we will leave you."
Haplo shook his head.
The woman frowned. "There are five of us and three of you," she pointed out.
Haplo smiled. The expression was tight, taut. "Since we're in a flying ship powered by Patryn magic, I'm not overly concerned. If you beat us- not likely- we'll all plummet to our deaths before you can transport out of here."
Worry creased the woman's brow.
"He's lying," growled the Samah lookalike.
Marit wrenched the wheel to the other side, proving him wrong.
The intruding Sartan exchanged nervous glances before turning to their leader.
"If you all want to die, go ahead," Haplo ordered. "Fight me."
"As I said," the woman repeated, "we do not wish to fight you. We simply wish to bring the traitor to justice."
Alfred shook his head. "I'm not going with you. There is something I need to do." In his words, Haplo glimpsed shimmering runes and crystalline coffins.
"You heard him," the Patryn said. "Now leave. And don't even think about trying to pass an offensive spell off as transportation. Alfred, if they do that, stop them."
Marit's eyes bored into his back, into his soul (at least, the parts of his soul that weren't trapped within the dog). Trust a Sartan? she seemed to demand. Are you mad, Haplo?
The Sartan gathered together, murmured too quietly for Haplo to hear. He strained his ears for their words, his eyes for their images, but neither heard nor saw anything concrete. He thought that they would see sense, but perhaps that was just Alfred's influence making him want to see the best in them (fortunately, one look at the face of Samah's son, or nephew, or whatever he was took care of that). If they didn't…. Well, he was good at reading body language, and he and Marit were a good team. At least, they had been a good team.
The man who looked like Samah drew himself up to his full height, cast a baleful glare on Alfred. The older Sartan winced, frowned, straightened himself up, and glared back. "Do not think that you have escaped, traitor," the younger growled. "We will be back, and we will bring you to justice for what you have done."
"I'm not sure if your mother would have approved of that," Haplo muttered. Hopefully this was a son, not a nephew. That would be embarrassing.
Alfred turned scarlet, looked ready to faint. The younger Sartan's jaw twitched, tightened. Ignoring Haplo, he growled, "If I were you, I would turn myself in and plead for leniency. Soon." He stepped back, carefully avoiding the ice, and began to work his magic. The others joined in, their voices rising in a chorus. Alfred remained still, calm but watchful.
And then they were gone.
Marit lowered her hands from the wheel, turned a baleful gaze onto Alfred. The Sartan shriveled, shoulders hunching. "Care to explain how your people found us?" she demanded.
"I don't know," he confessed. "They don't tell my name, and I doubt they guessed. No one else on the Chalice- at least no one that I met- shared my name."
"Really," she sneered. "Your own people don't know your name."
"They don't," Haplo said. "But they do know mine."
That has always bothered me. Why, if Haplo was supposed to be incognito in case a Sartan recognized him, did he give out his magical Patryn name that grants magical power over him and marks him as a Patryn? It makes no sense, and it's really a surprise that the Sartan on Chelestra didn't pop in to kidnap him. For that matter, why aren't they trying to get him now? Simple- they see Alfred as the weakest link. He'd be easier to interrogate, so they want to arrest him and question him about the worlds domination conspiracy that he's clearly a part of.
Hopefully updates will be faster, as it's now NaNoWriMo. Hooray!
-Antares
