“No,” said the Keeper, “they wouldn’t be. Not even the very clever person who drew this map could know where the dungeons of the Unseen are located. But does this present a problem, sir?”
“I hope not. For all our sakes,” Hugh said coldly. He bent over the map. “Now, let’s say we’ve got the kid, no trouble. What’s the best way out?”
“Patryns,” murmured the Soul in awe. “What are we coming to? The end of the world...”
“Keeper,” Hugh urged patiently.
“Forgive me. What was your question? The way out? That would be here. A private exit, used by those who leave with the dawn and want to depart quietly, without bother. If the child was cloaked and wore a woman’s bonnet, he might pass for Lady Iridal’s handmaid, should anyone see.”
“Not good, but the best we can do under the circumstances,” Hugh muttered, in an ill humor. “Have you ever heard of an elf named Sang-drax?” The Kenkari looked at each other, shook their heads.
“But that is not unusual,” said the Soul. “Many people come and go. Why do you ask?”
“I was told that if we got into trouble, this elf could be trusted.”
“Pray such trust will not be needed,” said the Soul solemnly.
“Amen,” said Hugh.
He and the Kenkari continued to plan, to discuss, to bring up difficulties, dangers, try to address them, solve them, work around them. Iridal ceased paying attention. She knew what she was to do, what part she was to play. She wasn’t frightened. She was elated, wished only that time would move more swiftly. Before now, she had not let herself dwell too much on recovering Bane, afraid that something would go wrong. Afraid she would be disappointed again, as she had been in the past.
But now she was so close. She couldn’t imagine anything going wrong. She let herself believe the dream was at last coming true. She yearned for her son, for the little boy she had not seen in a year, the little boy lost to her, now found.
Clasping the feather in her hand, she closed her eyes, pictured him in her mind. “My son, I am coming for you. Tonight we will be together, you and I. And no one will ever take you from me again. We will never be separated again.”
33
“My mother’s coming for me tonight,” said Bane, twiddling the feather he held in his hand. “It’s all arranged. I just spoke to her.”
“That is excellent news, Your Highness,” said Sang-drax. “Do you know the details?”
“She’s coming in the front gate, disguised as an elf woman. An illusion spell. Not all that difficult. I could do it, if I wanted.”
“I’m certain you could, Your Highness.” Sang-drax bowed. “Is the assassin accompanying her?”
“Yes. Hugh the Hand. I thought he was dead,” Bane added. He frowned, shivered.
“He certainly looked dead. But Mother said no, he was only hurt real bad.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, Your Highness, especially when Sartan are involved.”
Bane didn’t understand this, didn’t care. His head was filled with his own concerns, plots, and schemes. “You’ll tell Count Tretar? Tell him to be ready?”
“I leave this moment on just such an errand, Your Highness.”
“You’ll tell everyone who needs to know?” Bane persisted.
“Everyone, Highness,” Sang-drax said, with a bow and a smile.
“Good,” said Bane, making the feather spin and twist in his hands.
“Still here?” Sang-drax said, peering in the cell’s grate.
“Easy, boy,” Haplo said to the dog, who was barking with such ferocity it had nearly barked itself hoarse. “Don’t waste your breath.” The Patryn lay on the bed, his hands beneath his head.
“I am truly amazed. Perhaps we misjudged you. We thought you reckless, full of fire and spirit, eager to advance the cause of your people. Have we”—Sang-drax lounged against the cell door—“frightened you into a stupor?” Patience, Haplo counseled, clenching the hands concealed beneath his head. He’s goading you.
“I should have thought,” Sang-drax continued, “that by now you would have engineered the female dwarfs escape.”
“And Jarre’s unfortunately killed while attempting to break out of prison. And the emperor’s extremely sorry, but it can’t be helped. And the dwarves are extremely sorry, but they’ll have to destroy the machine anyway.” Haplo settled himself more comfortably.
“Go play rune-bone with Bane, Sang-drax. You could probably beat a child at your games.”
“The game is going to get interesting tonight, Haplo,” said Sang-drax softly.
“And you, I think, will be one of the major players.” Haplo didn’t move, stared at the ceiling. The dog, standing near its master, had lost its bark but kept up a constant rumbling growl in its chest.
“Bane’s going to have a visitor. His mother.”
Haplo lay still, kept his eyes focused above him. He was getting to know that ceiling very well by now.
“Iridal is a strong-willed woman. She’s not coming to bring her baby cookies and weep over him. No, she’s coming with the intent of taking him with her when she leaves. Of spiriting him away, hiding him from you, you bad man. And she’ll succeed, I have no doubt. And where will you go to look for dear little Bane? Mid Realm? High Realm? Low? How long will your search take, master? And what will Bane be doing all mis time? He has his own plans, as you well know, and they don’t include either you or ‘Grandfather.’ ”
Haplo reached out his hand, petted the dog.
“Well, well.” Sang-drax shrugged. “Just thought you might be interested in the information. No, don’t thank me. I hate to see you bored, that’s all. Shall we expect you tonight?”
Haplo made an appropriate remark.
Sang-drax laughed. “Ah, my dear friend. We are the ones who invented that*.” He produced a sheet of parchment, slid it under the cell door. “Just in case you don’t know where the boy’s room is, I’ve drawn you a map. The dwarfs room is right down the hall. Oh, by the way, the emperor is refusing to give in to Limbeck’s demands. He’s going to execute Jarre and send down an army to finish off her people. Such an entertaining man, that emperor. We’ve really grown quite fond of him.”
The serpent-elf made a graceful bow. “Until tonight, master. We do so look forward to the pleasure of your company. The party just wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Still laughing, Sang-drax sauntered off.
Haplo, fists clenched, lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The Lords of Night drew their cloaks over the world of Arianus. In the Imperanon, artificial suns banished the darkness, flambeaux lit the hallways, chandeliers were lowered from the ceiling of the ballrooms, candelabra flamed in the drawing rooms. The elves ate, drank, danced, and were as merry as possible with the dark shadows of their watching weesham, carrying their little boxes, in attendance. What the geir were doing with the souls they collected now was a subject of whispered speculation, though not at the dinner table. The gaiety was brighter than usual this night. Since the Kenkari had proclaimed their edict refusing to accept any more souls, the mortality rate among young elven royalty had markedly declined.
The parties lasted far into the night, but eventually even the young must sleep... or least retire to more private pleasures. The flambeaux were put out, the chandeliers doused and raised back up into the ceilings, the candelabra were dispersed among the guests to aid them in finding their way either home or back to their chambers.
An hour had passed since the last few elves had left the palace, staggering homeward, arm in arm, trilling an obscene song, ignoring the patient and sober weesham who trotted sleepily behind. The main gate was never closed; it was extraordinarily heavy, mechanically operated, and made a terrible screeching sound that could be heard as far away as Paxaua. The emperor, out of bored curiosity, had ordered it shut once. The experience was a dreadful one, it had taken him a cycle to fully recover his loss of hearing.