“I told you, Grandfather,” Bane said earnestly, “Haplo doesn’t love you. I’m the only one.”
The hand holding Bane went suddenly nerveless. Xar released the boy. The lord stared out into the twilight, his pain raw and visible in the ravaged face, in the sudden sagging of the shoulders, the limpness of the hand. Bane had not expected this, was displeased, jealous of Haplo’s ability to cause such pain.
Love breaks the heart.
Bane flung his arms around Xar’s legs, hugged him close.
“I hate him, Grandfather! I hate him for hurting you. He should be punished, shouldn’t he, Grandfather? You punished me, the time I lied to you. And Haplo’s done worse than that. You told me about the time you punished him before he went to Chelestra, how you could have killed him, but you didn’t, because you wanted him to learn from his punishment. You must do that again, Grandfather. Punish him like that again.”
Annoyed, Xar started to try to free himself from Bane’s clinging grasp, then stopped. Sighing, the lord again fondled the boy’s hair, stared out into the twilight. “I told you about that time, Bane, because I wanted you to understand the reason for your punishment and for his. I do not inflict pain wantonly. We learn from pain, that’s why our bodies feel it. But some, apparently, choose to ignore the lesson.”
“And so you’ll punish him again?” Bane peered upward.
“The time for punishment is past, child.”
Though Bane had been waiting for a year to hear those words, spoken in that tone, he couldn’t help but shudder.
“You’re going to kill him?” Bane whispered, overawed.
“No, child,” said the Lord of the Nexus, twisting the golden curls. “You are.” Haplo arrived back at the lord’s house. Entering, he crossed the living area, heading for Xar’s library.
“He’s gone,” said Bane, seated cross-legged on the floor, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands. He was studying Sartan runes.
“Gone.” Haplo stopped, stared at Bane, frowning, then looked back at the doorway leading to the library. “Are you sure?”
“See for yourself.” Bane shrugged.
Haplo did. He walked into the library, glanced around, then returned. “Where did Lord Xar go? To the Labyrinth?”
Bane held out a hand. “Here, dog. Here, boy.”
The dog pattered over, sniffed warily at the Sartan book of runes.
“Grandfather went to that world—the one made of stone. The one where the dead bodies walk.” Bane looked up, blue eyes large and glittering. “Will you tell me about that world? Grandfather said you might—”
“Abarrach?” Haplo asked in disbelief. “He’s gone already. Without—” The Patryn stalked out of the room. “Dog, stay,” he ordered as the animal started to follow.
Bane heard the man banging doors in the back part of the dwelling. Haplo was going outside to look for Xar’s ship. Bane grinned, wriggled in delight, then quickly sobered, continued to pretend to study his runes. The child cast a surreptitious glance beneath his long lashes at the dog, who had flopped down on its belly and was watching him with friendly interest.
“You’d like to be my dog, wouldn’t you?” Bane asked softly. “We’d play together all day and I’ll give you a name—”
Haplo returned, walking slowly. “I can’t believe he left. Without saying . . . anything to me.”
Bane looked at the runes, heard Xar’s voice.
It is clear to me that Haplo has betrayed me. He is in league with my enemies. I think it best that I do not meet him again, face to face. I am not certain I could control my anger.
“Grandfather had to leave in a hurry,” said Bane. “Something came up. New information.”
“What new information?”
Was it wishful thinking on Bane’s part, or did Haplo look guilt-ridden, uneasy? Bane buried his chin in his hands again, to keep his grin from showing.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, shrugging again. “It’s grown-up stuff. I didn’t pay any attention.”
I must allow Haplo to live awhile longer. An unfortunate necessity, but I need him and so do you, child. Don’t argue with me. Haplo is the only one among our people who has been to Arianus. This Geg, Limbeck, who is in control of the great machine, knows Haplo and trusts him You will need the dwarves’ trust, Bane, if you are to gain control of them, the Kicksey-winsey, and, eventually, the world.
“Grandfather said he gave you your orders already. You’re supposed to take me to Arianus—”
“I know,” Haplo interrupted impatiently. “I know.” Bane risked a glance. The man was not looking at the child, not paying him any attention. Haplo, dark, brooding, was staring at nothing.
Bane felt a twinge of alarm. What if Haplo refused to go? What if he’d made up his mind to enter the Labyrinth, search for Alfred? Xar had said Haplo wouldn’t, that Haplo would obey his command. But Xar himself had proclaimed Haplo a traitor.
Bane didn’t want to lose him. Haplo was his. The child decided to take action on his own. Jumping to his feet, eager and excited, Bane came over to stand in front of Haplo.
“I’m ready to go. Anytime you say. Won’t it be fun? To see Limbeck again. And the Kicksey-winsey. I know how to make it work. I’ve studied the Sartan runes. It will be glorious!” Bane waved his arms with calculated childish abandon.
“Grandfather says that the effects of the machine will be felt on all the worlds, now that Death’s Gate is open. He says that every structure the Sartan built will likely come alive. He says that he’ll feel the effects, even as far away as Abarrach.”
Bane watched Haplo closely, tried to guess what the man was thinking. It was difficult, practically impossible. The man’s face was impassive, expressionless; he might not have been listening. But he had been. Bane knew. Haplo hears everything, says little. That is what makes him good. That is what makes him dangerous.
And Bane had seen the man’s eyelids flicker, ever so slightly, when the child mentioned Abarrach. Was it the idea of the Kicksey-winsey affecting something on Abarrach that had caught the man’s interest? Or was it the reminder that, even on Abarrach, Xar would be aware of what his servant was—or was not—doing? Xar would know when the Kicksey-winsey came to life. And if it didn’t, he would start to wonder what had gone wrong.
Bane flung his arms around Haplo’s waist. “Grandfather said to give you his embrace. He said to tell you he trusted you, relied on you completely. He knows you won’t fail him. Or me.”
Haplo put his hands on Bane’s arms, pulled the boy loose as the man might have pulled loose a leech.
“Ouch, you’re hurting me,” Bane whimpered.
“Listen, kid,” said Haplo grimly, not relaxing his hold. “Let’s get one thing straight. I know you. Remember? I know you for the scheming, conniving, manipulative little bastard that you are. I’ll obey my lord’s command. I’ll take you to Arianus. I’ll see to it that you have a chance to do whatever it is you need to do to that damn machine. But don’t think you’re going to blind me with the light from your halo, kid, because I’ve seen that halo, close-up.”
“You don’t like me,” said Bane, crying a little. “No one likes me, except Grandfather. No one ever did like me.”
Haplo grunted, straightened. “Just so we understand each other. And another thing. I’m in charge. What I say goes. Got that?”
“I like you, Haplo,” said Bane, with a snivel.
The dog, feeling tenderhearted, came over and licked the child’s face. Bane threw his arm around the animal’s neck.
I’ll keep you, he promised the dog silently. When Haplo’s dead, you’ll be my dog. It will be fun.
“At least he likes me,” Bane said aloud, pouting. “Don’t you, boy?” The dog wagged its tail.
“The damn dog likes everyone,” Haplo muttered. “Even Sartan. Now go to your room, pack up your things. I’ll wait here until you’re ready.”