The count’s ship sailed into the air, headed for the mountain peaks. Tretar was taking no chances with Hugh. An elven soldier stood with his sword at the Hand’s throat during the entire short journey, just in case the human might have some desperate plan to seize control of the ship.
The elves needn’t have troubled. Any attempt to escape would be futile, endanger Iridal’s life, and all for nothing. Hugh realized that now, should have realized it during the night when he was concocting foolhardy, desperate schemes.
There was only one way, one way to alert Stephen to his danger, deliver Bane alive into the king’s hands, keep him alive so that the elves wouldn’t harm Iridal. The last was chancy, but Hugh had to take the risk. Iridal would want him to take the risk.
Most important, this would open her eyes to the truth.
Hugh had formed his plan. It was firm in his mind. He was confident it would work. He relaxed, at peace with himself for the first time in a long time. He was looking forward to the night.
To what would be, for him, endless night.
37
Haplo closed the circle of his being, gathered his remaining strength, healed himself. This time would be the last, though. He couldn’t fight any longer, didn’t want to fight any longer. He hurt, he was tired. The battle was futile. No matter what he did, they would defeat him at last. He lay in the darkness, waiting for them to come.
They didn’t.
And then the darkness changed to light.
Haplo opened his eyes, remembered he didn’t have any eyes. He put his hands to the bleeding sockets, saw his hands, and realized he had eyes to see. He sat up, stared at his body. He was whole, unharmed, except for a throbbing pain at the base of his skull and a dizzy sensation brought on by his too-swift movement.
“Are you all right?” came a voice.
Haplo tensed, blinked rapidly to clear his vision.
“Don’t be afraid. We are not those who harmed you. They have gone.” Haplo had only to look down at his arm to know the voice spoke the truth. The sigla were dark. He was in no immediate danger. He lay back, closed his eyes. Iridal walked in a terrible world, a world distorted, where every object was just a little beyond her reach, a world where people talked a language whose words she understood, yet they made no sense. She watched the world happen around her without being able to affect it, control it. The feeling was horrifying, that of existing in a waking dream.
And then all was darkness—that and the knowledge that she was imprisoned and they’d taken her child away from her. She tried to use her magic to free herself, but the words to the spell were hidden by the darkness. She couldn’t see them, and she couldn’t remember them.
And then the darkness grew light. Strong hands took hold of hers and guided her to stability, to reality. She heard voices and understood the words. She reached out, hesitantly, to touch the person who leaned over her and her hand closed over thin, fragile-feeling bone. Iridal gasped in relief, could have wept.
“Be at peace, Lady,” said the Kenkari, “all is well. Rest. Relax. Let the antidote take effect.”
Iridal did as she was told, too weak and stilt too disoriented to do anything else, for the moment, though her first and foremost thought was rescuing Bane. That much had been real, she knew. They had stolen him away from her. But with the Kenkari’s help, she would get him back.
Struggling to clear the burning mists from her mind, she heard voices close by—one voice that sounded familiar. Chillingly familiar. Iridal leaned forward to hear better, putting aside irritably the restraining hand of the Kenkari.
“Who are you?” the voice was asking.
“I am the Keeper of the Soul, a Kenkari. This is my assistant, the Keeper of the Door. Though I fear these titles mean nothing to you.”
“What happened to the ser—I mean the ... uh ... elves who took me prisoner?”
“They are gone. What did they do to you? We thought you were dead. Should you be moving around like this?”
Iridal sucked in a breath. Haplo! The Patryn! The man who had taken her son from her the first time.
“Help me get away!” Iridal said to the Kenkari. “I must ... He mustn’t find me...” She tried to stand, but her legs were weak and she fell back. The Kenkari was perplexed, anxious. “No, Lady, you are not fully recovered ...”
“Never mind what they did to me,” Haplo was saying harshly. “What did you do to them? How did you fight them?”
“We confronted them,” replied the Soul gravely. “We faced them without fear. Our weapons are courage, honor, the determination to defend what is right. Discovered late, perhaps,” he added with a sigh, “but true to us when we needed them.”
Iridal flung the Kenkari aside. She could stand now, weak, but she wouldn’t fall. Whatever drug the elves had given her was wearing off rapidly, burned out of her blood by her fear of Haplo’s finding her... and finding Bane. She reached the cell door and looked out. Almost immediately, she moved back, keeping herself hidden in the shadows.
Haplo was on his feet, leaning against a wall, not four paces from where she stood. He looked haggard, pale, as if he had endured some terrible torment. But Iridal remembered his magical power, knew it was far stronger than her own. She dared not let him find her.
“Thanks for ... whatever,” he was saying to the elves grudgingly. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“It is morning,” answered Door.
The Patryn cursed. “You didn’t by any chance see an elf and a dwarf, did you? An elf soldier, a captain. And he’d have with him a dwarf, a female.”
“We know of whom you speak, but we did not see them. Count Tretar’s weesham has informed us. They have taken a dragonship to Drevlin. They left at dawn.” Haplo cursed again. Muttering some excuse, he started to walk around the mensch. He was leaving, chasing after some dwarf and an elf captain. He hadn’t said a word about Bane. Iridal held her breath, almost limp with relief. Go! she urged him silently. Let him go, she urged the elves silently. But, to her dismay, one of the elves put a slender hand on Haplo’s shoulder. The other Kenkari blocked Haplo’s path.
“How will you go after them?” the Soul said.
“That’s my concern,” the Patryn returned impatiently. “Look, you elves may not care, but they’re going to murder that dwarf, unless I—”
“You reproach us,” said the Soul, closing his eyes, bowing his head. “We accept your rebuke. We know the wrong we have done and we seek only to make amends, if that is possible. But relax. You have time, time to heal your injury, for I believe such things are possible for you. Rest now. We must free the mysteriarch.”
“Mysteriarch?” Haplo had been going to shove his way past. He stopped. “What mysteriarch?”
Iridal began to call upon the magic, to crumble the stone down around them. She did not want to hurt the Kenkari, after all they had done for her, but they were going to reveal her presence to Haplo and that was something she could not allow...
A hand closed over hers. “No, Lady,” said the Book, her voice gentle and sad.
“We cannot permit it. Wait.”
“The Lady Iridal,” said Soul, and looked directly at her.
“Bane... Bane’s mother. She’s here?” Haplo followed the Kenkari’s gaze.
“Book,” called Soul. “Is the Lady Iridal well enough to travel?” Iridal cast a furious glance at the Kenkari, jerked her hand from the woman’s grasp. “What is this—a trap? You Kenkari said you would help me rescue my son! And I find you with this man—a Patryn—one who carried Bane off! I will not—”
“Yes, you will.” Haplo came up to her, stood in front of her. “You’re right, this is a trap, but you’re the one who fell into it. And that son of yours set it.”