Iridal couldn’t speak. Her magical powers failed her.
“It is you,” said the elf, smiling. “I see through the illusion now. Don’t be afraid. Your son sent me.” He held up a feather, twin to the one Iridal wore.
“I am Captain Sang-drax...”
The dagger blade held still, but did not reverse. Hugh’s hand raised, made a sign to Iridal that she should find out what the elf wanted. Sang-drax. She vaguely remembered the name, mentioned as someone they could trust if they were in trouble. Were they in trouble?
“I’ve frightened you. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know of any other way to stop you. I came to warn you that you are in danger. The man with the blue skin—”
“Haplo!” Iridal gasped, forgetting caution.
“Yes, Haplo. He was the one who brought your son to the elves. Did you know that? For his own evil purposes, you may be certain. He has discovered your plan to rescue Bane and he means to stop you. He may be here at any moment. We haven’t a second to lose!”
Sang-drax took hold of Iridal’s hand, urged her down the hall. “Quickly, my lady, we must reach your son before Haplo does.”
“Wait!” Iridal cried, pulled back.
The dagger’s blade still gleamed in the torchlight, behind the elf. Hugh’s hand was raised, admonishing caution.
“How could he find out?” Iridal swallowed. “No one knew, except my son—” Sang-drax’s expression was grave. “Haplo suspected something was up. Your son is brave, madam, but brave men have been known to break down under torture—”
“Torture! A child!” Iridal was aghast.
“This Haplo is a monster. He will stop at nothing. Fortunately, I managed to intervene. The boy was more frightened than hurt. But he will be very glad to see you. Come. I will carry the light.” Sang-drax took the flambeau from her, drew her forward, and this time Iridal went with him.
The hand and the dagger had both vanished.
“It is a pity,” Sang-drax added, “that we have no one to stand guard while we make your son ready for his journey. Haplo might arrive at any moment. But I dared not trust any of my men—”
“You need not concern yourself,” Iridal said coolly. “I have a companion.” Sang-drax appeared astonished, impressed. “One as gifted in magic as yourself, apparently. No, don’t tell me. The less I know the better. There is the room. I will take you to your son, but then I must leave you two for a moment. The boy has a friend, a dwarf-maid named Jarre. She’s due to be executed and, brave child that he is, he will not escape without taking her with him. You remain with your son, I will bring the dwarf.”
Iridal agreed. They reached the room at the end of the hall. Sang-drax tapped on the door in a peculiar manner.
“A friend,” he said in a low voice. “Sang-drax.” The door opened. The room was dark, an odd circumstance if Iridal had thought about it. But at that moment, she heard a choked cry.
“Mother! Mother, I knew you’d come for me!”
Iridal sank to her knees, held out her arms. Bane flung himself into her embrace.
Golden curls and a tear-wet cheek pressed against hers.
“I’ll be back,” Sang-drax promised.
Iridal heard him only vaguely, paid little attention as the door shut gently behind herself and her son.
It was night in the dungeons of the Unseen. No lights burned here, except for a single glowlamp provided for the benefit of the soldier on duty. And the light was far from Haplo, at the opposite end of the long row of prison cells. Peering through the grate, he could barely see it—a flicker of brightness that seemed, from this distance, no larger than a candle flame.
No sound broke the stillness, except the occasional hacking cough of some wretch in another part of the prison and a moan from another whose political views had come into question. Haplo was so accustomed to these sounds he no longer heard them.
He stared at the cell door.
The dog stood near, ears up, eyes bright, tail wagging slowly. It sensed something was happening and whined softly, urging its master to action. Haplo reached out his hand, touched the door that he could barely see in the darkness, felt the iron cold and rough from rust beneath his fingers. He traced a sigil on the door, spoke a word, watched it flare blue, then red. The iron melted in the heat of his magic. Haplo stared at the hole he’d created, visible until the magic’s glow faded. Two, three more sigla. The hole expanded, and he could walk out, free.
“Free...” Haplo muttered.
The serpents had forced him into taking this action, maneuvered him into it, impelled him, driven him.
“I’ve lost control,” he said. “I’ve got to get it back. That means beating them at their own game. Which is going to be interesting, considering I don’t know the damn rules!”
He glared at the hole he’d made.
Now was the time to make his move.
“A move they’re expecting me to make,” he said bitterly. He was alone down here at the end of the cell block. No guards, not even the Unseen in their magical fool—the-eye getup. Haplo had spotted them the first day, been mildly impressed by mensch ingenuity. But they weren’t around. They had no need to follow him. Everyone knew where he must go. Hell, they’d given him a map!
“I’m surprised the bastards didn’t leave the key in the lock,” he muttered. The dog whined, pawed at the door.
Haplo drew two more sigla, spoke the words. The iron melted away. He stepped through the hole. The dog trotted excitedly after.
Haplo glanced at the runes tattooed on his skin. They were dark, dark as the night that cloaked him. Sang-drax wasn’t around, and, for Haplo, no other danger existed in this palace. He walked from the cell, the dog at his heels, walked past the soldier on duty, who didn’t notice him.[66]
Hugh the Hand took up his position across the hallway opposite Bane’s room. The hail was a T-shape, with the boy’s room at the cross-point, the stairs they had come up forming the base at the far end, and another hallway running perpendicular. By posting himself at the cross-point, Hugh could see the stairs and all three sections of hall.
Sang-drax had let Iridal into her son’s room, had crept back out, shutting the door. Hugh was careful to remain quiet and unmoving, blending into the shadows and the wall behind him. It was impossible that the captain should see him, but Hugh was disconcerted to note the eyes of the elf shift almost right to him. He was also puzzled to note the eyes had a red cast to them, and he was reminded of Ernst Twist, reminded that Ciang had said something about Twist—a human—recommending this Sang-drax.
And Ernst Twist had just happened to be with Ciang. And Sang-drax had just happened to befriend Bane. Coincidence? Hugh didn’t believe in coincidence, any more than he believed in luck. Something was wrong here....
“I’m going to get the dwarf,” said Sang-drax, and if it hadn’t been impossible, Hugh might have supposed the elf was talking to him. Sang-drax pointed down the hallway to Hugh’s left. “Wait here. Keep an eye out for Haplo. He’s coming.” The elf turned and ran lightly and swiftly down the hall. Hugh flicked a glance back down the corridor. He’d just looked that direction, seen no one. The hall was empty.
Except it wasn’t empty now.
Hugh blinked, stared. A man was walking down the hall that had been empty seconds before, almost as if the elfs words had magicked him into being. And the man was Haplo.
Hugh had no difficulty recognizing the Patryn—the deceptive, unassuming, self-effacing air; the calm, confident walk; the quiet watchfulness. When Hugh had last seen Haplo, however, the man’s hands had been bandaged. Now Hugh knew why. Iridal had said something about blue skin, but she had said nothing about the blue skin glowing faintly in the dark. Some type of magic, Hugh supposed, but he couldn’t worry about magic now. His main concern was the dog. He’d forgotten about the dog.
66
Haplo’s magic wouldn’t render him invisible, but it does affect the possibility that people not looking for him wouldn’t see him. Haplo walked out of the dungeons of the Unseen.