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.[39] 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.
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.
Jarre’s eyes filled with tears.
“We could live here. Our people would be happy here. It might take some time—”
“Not as long as you think,” said Sang-drax. The elf walked in casual, leisurely fashion along the deck. The dog sat up, growled.
“Listen,” Haplo silently instructed it, though he wondered why he bothered.
“Once colonies of dwarves used to live on these isles. That was long ago,” the serpent-elf added, with a shrug of his slender shoulders, “but they prospered, at least so legend has it.”
“Unfortunately, the Gegs’ lack of magical talent proved your undoing. The elves forced the dwarves to leave the Mid Realm, shipped your people down to Drevlin, to work with the others already serving the Kicksey-winsey. Once you were gone, the elves took over your homes and lands.”
Sang-drax extended an elegant, shapely hand, pointed. “See that cluster of houses, the ones that burrow into the hillside? Dwarven-built. Who knows how old? And still standing. Those are the fronts of warrens that run far back into the hills. They are snug, dry. Your people found a way of sealing up the coralite,[40] to keep the rainwater from dripping through. The elves use the houses now for storage.”
Jarre examined the dwellings, barely visible on the distant hillside. “We could return, move in. This wealth, this paradise that should have been ours, could be ours again!”
“Why, so it could,” Sang-drax agreed, lounging against the rail. “If and when you Gegs develop an army large enough to push us elves off this isle. That’s what it would take, you know. Do you honestly think we’d let your kind live among us again?”
Jarre’s small hands clenched the slats of the rail. She was too short to see over the top, was forced to peer out between the bars. “Why torment me like this?” she demanded, her voice cold and tight. “I hate you enough already.” Haplo stood on the deck, watched the water flow, heard the words flow around him, and thought that it all amounted to pretty much the same: nothing. He noticed, as a matter of idle curiosity, that his magical defenses no longer reacted when Sang-drax was around. Haplo wasn’t reacting to anything. But deep inside, some part of him fought against his prison, struggled to break loose. And he knew that if he could only find the energy, he’d be able to free that part of him and then he could... he could... ...watch the water flow. Except that now the water had stopped flowing. The holding tanks were only about half full.
“You talk of hate,” Sang-drax was saying to Jarre. “Look down there. Do you know what is going on?”
“No,” Jarre said. “And I don’t care.”
The line of wagons, loaded with barrels, had begun moving past the storage tanks. But after the first few had gone by, the farmers pulled to a halt, began to shout angrily. Word spread rapidly, and soon a mob was milling about the holding tanks, fists raised.
“Our people have just been told that their water is being rationed. From now on, very little water will be coming from Drevlin. They’ve been told that you Gegs have shut off the supply.”
“But that’s not true!” Jarre cried, speaking before she thought.
“It isn’t?” Sang-drax said, interested.
Undoubtedly interested.
Haplo was roused from his lethargy. Listening through the dog, the Patryn glanced at the serpent-elf sharply.
Jarre stared at the water in the tanks. Her face hardened. She scowled, said nothing more.
39
Any dragonship, even one carrying political prisoners, would be required to take water up into the Mid Realm. The elves stockpiled water on Drevlin 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.
40
Coralite is extremely porous; water runs through it like a sieve. All races have tried to develop various means of catching and containing the water by sealing up the coralite, but, because the coralite is essentially a living entity, undergoing constant alteration, these have met with only mediocre success. Detailed explanations of coralite and the construction of the floating continents of the Mid Realm can be found in