Haplo was on the move with the dog, Hugh not far behind. There was no song on the Patryn’s lips. The assassin was singing loudly enough for both.
“Servers unite!” shouted Limbeck, shaking off the annoying coppers. Immersed in his speech, he paid no attention to the chaos around him. “I, myself, ascending to the realms above, there to discover Truth, the most valuable of treasures—”
“Treasures . . .” echoed the squawky-talk.
“Treasure?” The Gegs standing below the Palm looked at each other. “He said treasure. They’re giving more away! Up there! Up there!” The Gegs, still singing, surged toward the door in the base of the arm. A few coppers had been detailed to guard the entrance, but they were overwhelmed by the mob (one was later discovered lying comatose, a tambourine around his neck). The singing Gegs raced up the stairs.
The first Gegs surged through the door at the top of the arm and dashed out onto the base of the golden Palm. The Palm’s surface was slippery from the spray of the water shooting into the air. The Gegs slid and slithered and came precariously near hurtling over the edge. Hastening forward, the coppers attempted to stop them, trying without success to herd them back down the stairs. Darral Longshoreman stood in the center of the hooting, clanging crowd and watched, in mute anger and outrage, hundreds of years of peace and tranquillity go up in song.
Before Alfred could stop him, Bane raced excitedly after Hugh and Haplo. Caught up in the melee, Alfred struggled to try to catch the prince. Limbeck’s spectacles were knocked off in the tussle. He managed to save them, but—getting knocked about in every direction—couldn’t put them on. Blinking, bewildered, he stared around, unable to tell friend from foe, up from down. Seeing the Geg’s predicament, Alfred caught hold of Limbeck by the shoulder and dragged him toward the ship.
The elf captain, flat on his back on the Palm’s fingers, struggled ineffectively with the dog, whose slashing teeth were trying to find their way between helm and breastplate. Reaching the gangway, Haplo glanced in some concern at an elven wizard hovering over the fallen elf. If the wizard used his magic, the Patryn would have little choice but to respond in kind. Perhaps, in the confusion, he could do it without being seen. But the wizard did not appear interested in fighting. He stood over the elf captain, watching keenly the battle with the dog. The wizard held in his hand a jeweled box; an eager expression lit his face.
Keeping one eye on this strange wizard, Haplo knelt swiftly at the battling elf’s side. Making certain he kept clear of the dog’s teeth, the Patryn slid his hand beneath the ironclad body, grappling for the sword. He grasped hold and pulled. The belt to which it was attached gave way and the weapon was his. Haplo considered the sword an instant. The Patryn was loath to kill in this world, particularly elves. He was beginning to see how his lord could make future use of them. Turning, he tossed the weapon to Hugh.
Sword in one hand, his dagger in the other, Hugh dashed across the gangway and through the hatch, singing as he ran.
“Dog! Here! To me!” Haplo called.
Immediately obeying the command, the dog bounded from the chest of the ironclad elf, leaving the captain floundering helplessly on his back, like an overturned turtle. Waiting for the dog, Haplo managed to catch hold of Bane as the child hurtled past him. The prince was in a state of wild excitement, shrieking the song out at the top of his lungs.
“Let me go! I want to see the fight!”
“Where the hell’s your keeper? Alfred!”
Searching the crowd for the chamberlain, Haplo got a firm grip on the squirming, protesting boy and held on to him. Alfred was clumsily shepherding Limbeck through the chaos raging on the Palm. The Geg, struggling to keep his feet, was still pouring out his heart.
“And now, distinguished visitors from another realm, I would like to give to you the three tenets of WUPP. First—”
The mob closed around Alfred and Limbeck.
Releasing Bane, Haplo turned to the dog, pointed to the boy, and said, “Watch.”
The dog, grinning, sat down on his hind legs and fixed his eyes on Bane. Haplo left them. Bane stared at the dog.
“Good boy,” he said, and turned to enter the hatch. Casually the dog rose to his feet, sank his teeth into the rear end of His Highness’s trousers, and held him fast.
Haplo darted back across the gangway to Palm. He extricated Alfred and the speech-making Limbeck from the thick of the crowd and hustled them toward the ship. Several WUPP’s, blowing their horns, surged after them, deafening any who tried to stop them. Haplo recognized Jarre among them and tried to catch her eye, but she was bashing a copper with a wheezy-wail and didn’t see him. Despite the confusion, Haplo attempted to keep an ear attuned for fighting on board the ship. He heard nothing except Hugh’s singing, however, not even the sound of blowing whistles.
“Here, chamberlain, the kid’s your responsibility.” Haplo freed Bane from the dog and thrust the kid toward a shaken Alfred. The Patryn and the dog raced across the gangway; Haplo assumed everyone else was following.
Coming into the dark ship from the sunlight glaring off the golden Palm, the Patryn was forced to pause and wait for his eyes to adjust. Behind him, he heard Limbeck cry out, stumble, and fall to his knees, the sudden absence of light and the loss of his spectacles combining to effectively blind the Geg. Haplo’s vision cleared quickly. He saw now why he had heard no sounds of fighting. Hugh stood facing an elf with a naked sword in his hand. Behind the elf ranged the rest of the ship’s crew, armed and waiting. The silver war robes of a ship’s wizard caught the sunlight, gleaming brightly from where he stood behind the warriors. No one spoke. Hugh had quit singing. He watched the elf narrowly, waiting for the attack.
“ ‘The sullen walk, the flick’ring aim . . .’” Bane trilled the words, his voice loud and jarring.
The elf’s gaze slid toward the child, the hand grasping the sword shivered slightly, and his tongue flicked over dry lips. The other elves, ranged behind him, were seemingly awaiting his orders, for they kept their eyes fixed on him as their leader.
Haplo swiveled about. “Sing, dammit!” he shouted, and Alfred, jolted into action, raised his voice—a piping tenor. Limbeck was shuffling through his papers, trying to find the place where he’d left off.
There was Jarre, coming across the gangplank, more WUPP’s behind her, all gleeful and eager for treasure. Haplo signaled frantically, and finally she saw him.
“Keep away!” he motioned, mouthing the words at the same time. “Keep away!” Jarre halted her troop and they obediently (and a few literally) fell back at her command. The Gegs craned their heads to see, watching intently to make certain no one got a glass bead ahead of them.
“ ‘Fire leads again from futures, all.’ ”
The singing was louder now, Alfred’s voice stronger, carrying the tune, Bane growing hoarse but never flagging. Certain now the Gegs would not interfere, Haplo turned from them to Hugh and the elf. Holding the same positions, swords raised, each watched the other warily.