“No, Lord, I do not rely on any other. I am loyal to you. That is why I came to you, brought you this information. I will be only too glad to be proven wrong!”
“Will you, my son?” Xar studied Haplo searchingly. Seeming satisfied with what he saw, the lord relaxed, smiled, clapped Haplo affectionately on the shoulder. “Excellent. I have another task for you. Now that Death’s Gate is opened and our enemies the Sartan are aware of us, we must move swiftly, more swiftly than I had intended. Within a short time, I leave for Abarrach, there to study the art of necromancy ...” He paused, cast a sharp glance at Haplo. The younger Patryn’s expression did not alter; he made no opposition to this plan. Xar continued.
“We do not have sufficient numbers of Patryns to form an army, as I had hoped. But, if we have armies of the dead to fight for us, then we do not need to waste our people. It is imperative, therefore, that I go to Abarrach, imperative that I go now, for I am wise”—dry emphasis on the word—“enough to know that I must study long and hard before I can master the art of raising the dead.
“But this trip poses a problem. I must go to Abarrach but, at the same time, it is imperative that Bane returns to Arianus, the Realm of Air. Let me explain. It involves the great machine of Arianus. The machine the mensch call, somewhat fancifully, the Kicksey-winsey.
“In your report, Haplo, you stated you found information left by the Sartan which indicated that they built the Kicksey-winsey in order to bring the floating islands of Arianus into alignment.”
Haplo nodded. “Not only bring the islands into line, Lord, but then shoot a geyser of water up to those that are now dry and barren.”
“Whoever rules the machine, rules the water. And whoever rules the water, rules those who must drink it or perish.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Review for me the political situation as it was when you left Arianus.” Xar remained standing. This summary was obviously meant to be brief, and was probably for Haplo’s benefit more than the lord’s own. Xar had read Haplo’s report many times, knew it from memory. Haplo, however, had visited three other worlds since he’d been to Arianus. He spoke hesitantly, trying to refresh his memory.
“The dwarves—known on Arianus as Gegs—live in the lower isles, down in the Maelstrom. They are the ones who run the machine, or rather they serve it, for the machine runs itself. The elves discovered that the machine could supply water for their empire, located in the Mid Realm of Arianus. Neither the humans nor the elves, who live in the Mid Realm, are able to collect water in any amount, due to the porous nature of the continents.
“The elves traveled into the lower realms in their magical dragonships, took the water from the dwarves, paid them in worthless trinkets and refuse left over from the elven kingdoms. A dwarf named Limbeck discovered the elven exploitation of the dwarven people. He is now—or he was when I left—leading the rebellion against the elven empire by, as you say, cutting off their water supplies.
“The elves have other problems, as well. An exiled prince is leading his own rebellion against the tyrannical regime currently in power. The humans, led by a strong king and queen, are themselves uniting and fighting against the elven rule.”
“A world in chaos,” said Xar, with satisfaction.
“Yes, Lord,” responded Haplo, face flushing, wondering if this was, perhaps, a subtle rebuke for words spoken earlier, a reminder that the Patryns wanted worlds in chaos.
“The child Bane must go back to Arianus,” Xar repeated. “It is vital that we take control of the Kicksey-winsey before the Sartan can return and claim it. Bane and I have undertaken a lengthy study of the machine. He will put the Kicksey-winsey into operation, start the process to realign the islands. This will, no doubt, further disrupt the lives of the mensch, causing terror, panic. In the midst of the turmoil, I will enter Arianus with my legions, restore order. I will be looked upon as a savior.”
Xar shrugged. “Conquering Arianus—the first world to fall to my might—will be easy.”
Haplo started to ask a question, paused, checked himself. He stared moodily into the flickering embers.
“What is it, my son?” Xar urged gently. “Speak freely. You have doubts. What are they?”
“The serpents, Lord. What about the serpents?”
Xar pursed his lips. His eyes narrowed alarmingly. His long, thin, strong hands clasped behind his back, maintaining the calming circle of his being. He had rarely been so angry.
“The serpents will do what I tell them to do. As will you, Haplo. As will all my subjects.”
He had not raised his voice, nor altered its gentle modulations. But the unseen observer in the back room shivered and scrunched together on his stool, thankful that he wasn’t the one shriveling in the heat of the old man’s ire. Haplo knew he had displeased his lord. He recalled a time of punishment. His hand went instinctively to the name-rune tattooed over his heart—the root and source of all his magical power, the starting of the circle. Xar leaned forward, suddenly, laid his hand over Haplo’s, laid his gnarled old hand over Haplo’s heart.
The Patryn flinched, drew in a quick breath, but otherwise held still. The unseen observer ground his teeth. Much as he was gleefully enjoying Haplo’s downfall, the observer was also bitterly jealous of Haplo’s obvious closeness to his lord—a closeness the observer could never hope to share.
“Forgive me, Father,” Haplo said simply, speaking with dignity, out of sincere contrition, not out of fear. “I will not fail you. What is your command?”
“You will escort the child Bane to Arianus. Once there, you will assist him in the operation of the Kicksey-winsey. You will do whatever else you need to do in order to foment chaos and turmoil in the world. That should be easy. This dwarven leader, this Limbeck, likes and trusts you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, Lord.” Haplo had not stirred beneath the lord’s touch on his heart. “And when that is accomplished?”
“You will wait on Arianus for my instructions.”
Haplo nodded in silent acquiescence.
Xar held him a moment longer, feeling Haplo’s life beating beneath his fingers, knowing he could end that life in a second, if he chose; knowing that Haplo knew it, as well.
Haplo gave a great, shuddering sigh, bowed his head.
The lord pressed him close. “My son. My poor troubled son. You bear my touch with such courage ...”
Haplo lifted his head. His face was flushed, he spoke savagely. “Because, my lord, there is no pain you or anyone could inflict on me worse than the pain I bear within myself.”
Wrenching free of the lord’s hold, Haplo walked abruptly from the room, from his lord’s presence. The dog jumped to its feet, hurried after him, paws pattering quietly across the floor. There came the sound of a door slamming shut.
Xar stared after him, not greatly pleased. “I grow tired of these doubts, this whining. You will have one more chance to prove yourself loyal...” The observer left his stool, slid out into the room, which was now dark with shadows. The fire had almost completely died.
“He didn’t ask leave to go, Grandfather,” noted the observer in a shrill voice. “Why didn’t you stop him? I would have had him whipped.” Xar glanced about. He was not startled at the child’s presence, or by the fact that he’d been listening. Xar was even somewhat amused at the vehemence in the tone.
“Would you, Bane?” Xar asked, smiling at the boy fondly, reaching out a hand to ruffle the fair hair. “Remember something, child. Love breaks a heart. Hatred strengthens it. I want Haplo broken, contrite, repentant.”
“But Haplo doesn’t love you, Grandfather,” cried Bane, not completely understanding. He crowded close to the old man, looking up at him with adoring eyes. “I’m the only one who loves you. And I’ll prove it. I will!”
“Will you, Bane?” Xar patted the boy approvingly, caressed him fondly. A Patryn child would have never been encouraged to feel such affection, much less permitted to reveal it. But Xar had taken a fancy to the human child. Having lived a solitary life, the lord enjoyed the boy’s company, enjoyed teaching him. Bane was bright, intelligent, and extraordinarily skilled in magic—for a mensch. Besides all this, the Lord of the Nexus found it rather pleasant to be worshiped.