"They're talking about that weapon the elf's holding in his hand. It apparently has some effect on the tytans. It makes them run away."

The dwarf's brows beetled, his eyes seemed to sink back into his head, practically invisible except for the sparkling hate in their black depths. The Patryn knew and appreciated hatred-hatred kept those trapped in the Labyrinth alive. He had been wondering why Drugar was traveling with people the dwarf made no secret of despising. Haplo thought suddenly that he understood.

"Elven weapons"-Drugar spoke into his thick beard-"drive them away! Elven weapons could have saved my people!"

As if in response, Paithan's grim voice rose, "But it didn't drive them far, Durndrun."

The lord shook his head. "No, not far. They came back, attacked us from behind, using that deadly elemental magic of theirs-hurling fire, rocks dragged from the Mother-knows-where. They took care not to come within sight of us and, when we fled, they didn't follow."

"What do they say?" Drugar asked. His hand was beneath his beard; Haplo could see the fingers moving, grasping at something.

"The weapons stopped them, but not for long. The tytans hit them with elemental magic."

"But they are here, they are alive!"

"Yeah. The elves retreated, the tytans apparently didn't go after them." Haplo saw the elflord cast a glance around the group assembled in the coppice, saw him draw Paithan farther into the trees, apparently for private conversation.

"Dog," Haplo said. The animal lifted its head. A gesture from its master sent the dog padding swiftly, silently after the two elves.

"Pah!" The dwarf spit on the ground at his feet.

"You don't believe them?" Haplo asked, interested. "You know what elemental magic is?"

"I know," grunted Drugar, "though we do not use it ourselves. We use"-he pointed a stubby finger at the Patryn's sigla-covered hands-"that magic."

Haplo was momentarily confounded, stared dumbly at the dwarf.

Drugar didn't appear to notice the man's discomfiture. Fumbling at his throat, the dwarf drew out an obsidian disk worn on a leather thong, and held it up for the Patryn's inspection. Haplo leaned over it, saw carved on the rare stone a single rune-a Sartan rune. It was crudely drawn; by itself it possessed little power. Yet he had only to look on his arms to see its counterpart tattooed on his own skin.

"We cannot use them as you do." The dwarf stared at Haplo's hands, his gaze hungry and yearning. "We do not know how to put them together. We are like little children: We can speak words, but we don't know how to string the words into sentences."

"Who taught you ... the rune magic?" Haplo asked when he had recovered sufficiently from his shock to be able to speak.

Drugar lifted his eyes, stared far off, into the jungle. "Legend says ... they did."

Haplo was confused, thought at first he meant the elves. The dwarf's black eyes were focused higher, almost to the tops of the trees, and the Patryn understood. "The tytans."

"Some of us believed they would come to us again, help us build, teach us. Instead ..." Drugar's voice rumbled to silence, like thunder fading in the distance.

Another mystery to ponder, to consider. But not here. Not now. Alone ... and far away. Haplo saw Paithan and the elflord returning, the dog trotting along unnoticed at their heels. Paithan's face reflected some internal struggle; an unpleasant one, to judge by his expression. The elflord walked straight to Aleatha who, after assisting Roland with Haplo, had been left standing aloof, alone, at the edge of the copse.

"You've been ignoring me!" she stated.

Lord Durndrun smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, my dear. The gravity of the situation-"

"But the situation's over," said Aleatha lightly. "And here am I, in my 'warrior maid' costume, dressed to kill, so to speak. But I've missed the battle seemingly." Raising her arms, she presented herself to be admired. "Do you like it? I'll wear it after we're married, whenever we have a fight. Though I dare say your mother won't approve-"

The elflord blenched, covered his pain by averting his face. "You look charming, my dear. And now I have asked your brother to take you home."

"Well, of course. It's almost dinnertime. We're expecting you. After you've cleaned up-"

"There won't be time, I'm afraid, my dear." Taking the woman's hand. Lord Durndrun pressed it to his lips. "Good-bye, Aleatha." It seemed he meant to release her hand, but Aleatha caught hold of his, held him fast.

"What do you mean, saying 'good-bye' in that tone?" She tried to sound teasing, but fear tightened, strained her voice.

"Quindiniar." Lord Durndrun gently removed the woman's hand from his.

Paithan stepped forward, caught Aleatha by the arm. "We've got to go-"

Aleatha shook herself free. "Good-bye, My Lord," she said coldly. Turning her back, she stalked off into the jungle.

"Thea!" Paithan called, worried. She ignored him, kept going. "Damn, she shouldn't be wandering around alone-" He looked at Roland.

"Oh, all right," muttered the man, and plunged into the trees.

"Paithan, I don't understand. What's going on?" asked Rega.

"I'll tell you later. Somebody wake up the old man." Paithan gestured irritably to Zifnab, who lay comfortably beneath a tree, snoring loudly. The elf glanced back at Lord Durndrun. "I'm sorry. My Lord. I'll talk to her. I'll explain."

The elflord shook his head. "No, Quindiniar. It's best you don't. I'd rather she didn't know."

"My Lord, I think I should come-"

"Good-bye, Quindiniar," Lord Durndrun said firmly, cutting off the young man's words. "I'm counting on you." Gathering his weary troops around him with a gesture, the lord turned and led his small force back into the jungle.

Zifnab, assisted by the toe of Rega's boot, woke with a snort. "What? Huh? I heard every word! Just resting my eyes. Lids get heavy, you know." Joints popping and creaking, he rose to his feet, sniffing the air. "Dinnertime. The cook said something about tangfruit. That's good. We can dry 'em and eat the leftovers on our journey."

Paithan gave the old man a troubled look, switched his gaze to Haplo. "Are you coming?"

"Go on. I've got to take it easy. I'd only slow you down."

"But the tytans-"

"Go on," said Haplo, in pain, beginning to lose patience.

Taking hold of Rega's hand, the elf followed after Roland and his sister, who already had a considerable head start.

"I have to go!" said Drugar and hurried to catch up with Paithan and Rega. Once he was even with them, however, he fell about a pace behind, keeping them constantly in his sight.

"I suppose I'll be forced to walk all that way!" muttered Zifnab peevishly, tottering off. "Where's that dratted dragon? Never around when I want him, but the moment I don't, there he is, leaping up, threatening to eat people or making rude remarks about the state of my digestion."

Turning, he peered around at Haplo. "Need any help?"

The Labyrinth take me if I see you again! Haplo told the old man's retreating back. Crazy old bastard.

Beckoning to the dog, the Patryn motioned the animal close and rested his hand on its head. The private conversation, held between Paithan and the elflord, overheard by the dog, came to Haplo clearly.

It wasn't much-the Patryn was disappointed. The elflord had said simply that the elves didn't have a chance. They were all going to die.

"You're a real bitch, aren't you?" said Roland.

He'd had a difficult time catching up with the elf woman. He didn't like crossing the narrow, swinging, ropevine bridges that stretched from treetop to treetop. The jungle floor was far beneath him, the bridge swayed alarmingly whenever he moved. Aleatha, accustomed to walking the bridges, moved across them with ease. She could, in fact, have escaped Roland completely, but that would have meant walking the jungle alone.

Hearing him right behind her, she turned and faced him.

"Kitkninit. [28] You are wasting your breath conversing with me. You even talk like a barbarian!" Aleatha's hair had come completely undone; it billowed around her, swept back by the speed of her movement along the bridge. A flush of exertion stained her cheeks.

"Like hell you kitkninit. You were quick enough to follow my instructions when I told you to hold onto our patient."

Aleatha ignored him. She was tall, almost as tall as Roland. Her stride-in the leather pants-was long and unencumbered.

They left the bridge, striking a trail through the moss. The path was narrow and difficult to traverse, made no easier by the fact that Aleatha increased Roland's difficulty whenever possible. Drawing aside branches, she let them go, snapping them in his face. Taking a sharp turn, she left him floundering in a bramble bush. But if Thea was hoping to make Roland angry, she didn't succeed. The human seemed to take a perverse pleasure in the trouble she was causing him. When they emerged onto the sweeping lawn of the Quindiniar mansion, she discovered Roland strolling along easily by her side.

"I mean," he said, picking up the conversation where he had left off, "you treated that elf pretty badly. It's obvious the guy would give his life for you. In fact, he's going to-give his life, that is-and you treat him like he's-"

Aleatha whirled, turning on him. Roland caught her wrists, her nails inches from his face. "Listen, lady! I know you'd like to tear my tongue out so you don't have to hear the truth. Didn't you see the blood on his uniform? That came from dead elves! Your people! Dead! Just like mine! Dead!"

"You're hurting me." Aleatha's voice was cool, calming Roland's fever. He flushed, and slowly released her wrists. He could see the livid marks of his hand-the marks of his fear-imprinted on the fair skin.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's just-"

"Please excuse me," said Aleatha. "It's late, and I must dress for dinner."

She left him and walked over the smooth expanse of green moss, heading for the house. Horn calls rose again, sounding flat and lifeless in the still, muggy air. Roland was still standing in the same place, staring after the woman, when the others caught up with him.

"That's the signal for the city guard to turn out," said Paithan. "I'm part of it. I should go fight with them." But he didn't move. He stared down at the house, at Dragon Wing behind it.

"What'd the elflord tell you?" Roland asked.

"Right now, people think that our army's driven the tytans off, defeated them. Durndrun knows better. That was only a small force. According to our scouts, after the monsters attacked the dwarves, they split up-half went vars to deal with Thillia, half went est, to the Fartherness Reaches. The two armies of tytans are rejoining for an all-out assault on Equilan."

Paithan put his arm around Rega, drew her close. "We can't survive. The lord ordered me to take Aleatha and my family and flee, to get out while we can. He meant, of course, to travel overland. He doesn't know about the ship."

"We've got to get out of here tonight!" said Roland.

"If that Haplo plans to take any of us. I don't trust him," said Rega.

"Which means I run away, leave my people to perish ..." murmured Paithan.

No, said Drugar silently, his hand on his knife. No one will leave. Not this night, not ever.

"When the dog barks," announced the old man, panting, toddling up from behind. "That's the signal. When the dog barks."

CHAPTER 31.

TREETOPS,.

EQUILAN.

HAPLO TOOK A LAST WALK AROUND THE SHIP, INSPECTING THE REPAIRS HE'D made with a critical eye. The damage had not been extensive; the protective runes had, for the most part, served him well. He'd been able to heal the cracks in the planking, reestablish the rune magic. Satisfied that the ship would hold together throughout its long voyage, Haplo climbed back up on the top deck and paused to rest.

He was exhausted. The repairs to his ship and the repairs to himself after the fight with the tytan had drained his energy. He knew he was weak because he was in pain; his shoulder ached and throbbed. If he had been able to rest, to sleep, to let his body renew itself, the injury would, by now, have been nothing more than a bad memory. But he was running out of time. He could not withstand a tytan assault. His magic had to be spent on the ship, not on himself.

The dog settled itself beside him. Haplo rubbed his hand against the animal's muzzle, scratching its jowls. The dog leaned into the caress, begging for more. Haplo thumped it on the flanks.

"Ready to go back up there again?"

The dog rolled over, stood, and shook itself.

"Yeah, me too." Haplo tilted his head back, squinting against the brilliance of the sun. The smoke of the fires, burning in the elven city, kept him from seeing the stars.

Steal our eyes! Blind us to the bright and shining light!

Well, why not? It makes sense. If the Sartan ...

The dog growled, deep in its throat. Haplo, alert, wary, glanced swiftly down at the house. They were all inside, he'd seen them go in after their return from the jungle. He'd been somewhat surprised they hadn't come to the ship. The first thing he'd done on his own return had been to strengthen the magical field surrounding it. On sending the dog to reconnoiter, however, he'd discovered them doing what he should have guessed they'd be doing-arguing vehemently among themselves.

Now that the dog had drawn his attention to it, he could hear voices, loud, strident, raised in anger and frustration.

"Mensch. All the same. They should welcome a strong ruler like My Lord-someone to enforce peace, bring order to their lives. That is, if any of them will be left in this world when My Lord arrives." Haplo shrugged, rose to his feet, heading for the bridge.

The dog began barking, a warning. Haplo's head jerked around. Beyond the house, the jungle was moving.

Calandra stormed up to her office, slammed the door shut, and locked it. Drawing out her ledger, she opened it, sat rigidly in her straight-backed chair, and began to go over the previous cycle's sales figures.

There was no reasoning with Paithan, absolutely none. He had invited strangers into her house, including the human slaves, telling them that they could take refuge inside! He had told the cook to bring her family up from the town. He'd whipped them into a state of panic with his gruesome tales. The cook was in hysterics. There'd be no dinner this night! It grieved Calandra to say it, but her brother had obviously been stricken with the same madness that plagued their poor father.

"I've put up with Papa all these years," Calandra snapped at the inkwell. "Put up with the house being nearly burned down around our ears, put up with the shame and humiliation. He is, after all, my father, and I owe him. But I owe you nothing, Paithan! You'll have your share of the inheritance and that's all. Take it and take your human trollop and the rest of your scruffy followers and try to make your way in this world! You'll be back. On your knees!"

Outside, a dog began to bark. The noise was loud and startling. Calandra let fall a drop of ink on the ledger sheet. A burst of noise, shouts and cries, came from downstairs. How did they expect her to get any work done! Angrily grabbing the blotter, Calandra pressed it over the paper, soaking up the ink. It hadn't ruined her figures, she was still able to read them-the neat, precise numbers marching in their ordered rows, figuring, calculating, summing up her life.

She replaced the pen, with care, in its holder, and walked over to the window, prepared to slam it shut. Calandra caught her breath, stared. It seemed the trees themselves were creeping up on her house.

She rubbed her eyes, squinching them shut and massaging the lids with her fingers. Sometimes, when she worked too long and too late, the numbers swam before her vision. I'm upset, that's all. Paithan has upset me. I'm seeing things. When I open my eyes, everything will be as it should be.

Calandra opened her eyes. The trees no longer appeared to be moving. What she saw was the advance of a horrible army.

Footsteps came thudding up the stairs, clattered down the hall. A fist began to pound on the door. Paithan's voice shouted, "Callie! They're coming! Callie, please! You have to leave, now!"

Leave! And go where?