"Everybody below!" the Patryn snapped. "Hurry up. It's not going to take the tytans long to figure out they're not as frightened of the dragon as they think they are!"

Wearily, they made their way forward, stumbled down the hatch to the bridge. Haplo was about to turn and follow when he saw Paithan, standing at the railing, staring through the smoke, blinking back tears. His hands clenched the wood.

"Come on, or you're riding out here!" Haplo threatened.

"The house ... can you see it?" Paithan wiped his eyes with an impatient gesture.

"It's gone, elf, burning! Now will you-" Haplo paused. "There was someone in there. Your sister."

Paithan nodded, slowly turned away. "I guess it was better that way than ... the other."

"We're likely to find out if we don't get out of here ourselves! Sorry, but I've got no time for condolences." Haplo grabbed hold of the elf, hustled him down below.

Inside, it was deathly quiet. The magic protected the ship from the smoke and flame, the dragon outside guarded it from the tytans. The humans and elves and the dwarf had taken refuge in whatever open spaces they could find, huddled together, their eyes fixed on Haplo. He glanced around grimly, not liking his passengers, not liking the situation. His gaze flicked over the dog, lying nose on paws on the deck.

"You happy?" he muttered.

The animal thumped its tail wearily on the boards.

Haplo put his hands on the steering stone, hoping he had strength enough left to take the ship aloft. The sigla began to glow blue and red on his skin, the runes on the stone lit in response. A violent shudder shook the vessel, the boards creaked and shivered.

"Tytans!"

This was the end. He couldn't fight them, didn't have the strength. My Lord will know, when I fail to return, that something must have gone wrong. The Lord of the Nexus will be wary, when he comes to this world.

Green scales covered the window, almost completely blocking the view. Haplo started, recovered. He knew now what was causing the ship to quake and creak like a rowboat in a storm-a large, scaly body, winding itself round and round.

A fiery eye glared through the window at the Patryn.

"Ready when you are, sir," the dragon announced.

"Ignition! Blast off!" said the old man, settling himself on the deck, his battered hat sliding down over one ear. "The vessel needs a new name! Something more appropriate to a starship. Apollo? Gemini? Enterprise. Already taken. Millennium Falcon. Trade-marked. All rights reserved. No! Wait, I have it! Dragon Star! That's it! Dragon Star!"

"Shit," muttered Haplo, and put his hands back on the steering stone.

The ship rose slowly, steadily, into the air. The mensch stood up, stared out the small portholes that lined the hull, watched their world fall away from them.

The dragonship flew over Equilan. The elven city could not be seen for the smoke and flames devouring it and the trees in which it had been built.

The dragonship flew over the Kithni Gulf, red with human blood. It flew over Thillia-charred, blackened. Here and there, crouched alongside the broken roads, a dazed, lone survivor could be seen, wandering forlornly through a dead land.

Rising steadily, gaining altitude, the ship passed over the dwarven homeland-dark, deserted.

The ship sailed into the green-blue sky, left the ruined world behind, and headed for the stars.

CHAPTER 32.

DRAGON STAR.

THE FIRST PART OF THE VOYAGE TO THE STARS WAS RELATIVELY PEACEFUL. Awed and frightened by the sight of the ground sliding beneath them, the mensch-elven and human-huddled together, pathetically eager for each other's company and support. They talked repeatedly of the catastrophe that had struck them. Wrapped in the warm blanket of shared tragedy, they attempted to draw even the dwarf into their circle of good fellowship. Drugar ignored them. He sat morose and melancholy in a corner of the bridge, moving from it infrequently, and then only under the duress of dire need.

They spoke eagerly about the star to which they were sailing, about their new world and new life. Haplo was amused to observe that, once they were actually on their way to a star, the old man became extremely evasive in describing it.

"What is it like? What causes the light?" asked Roland.

"It is a holy light," said Lenthan Quindiniar in mild rebuke. "And shouldn't be questioned."

"Actually, Lenthan's right ... sort of," said Zifnab, appearing to grow extremely uncomfortable. "The light is, one might say, holy. And then there's night."

"Night? What's night?"

The wizard cleared his throat with a loud harrumph and glanced around as if for help. Not finding any, he plunged ahead. "Well, you remember the storms you have on your world? Every cycle at a certain time it rains? Night's similar to that, only every cycle, at a certain time, the light... well... it disappears."

"And everything's dark!" Rega was appalled.

"Yes, but it's not frightening. It's quite comforting. That's the time when everyone sleeps. Makes it easy to keep your eyelids shut."

"I can't sleep in the dark!" Rega shuddered, and glanced at the dwarf, sitting silently, ignoring them all. "I've tried it. I'm not sure about this star. I'm not sure I want to go."

"You'll get used to it." Paithan put his arm around her. "I'll be with you."

The two snuggled close. Haplo saw looks of disapproval on the faces of the elves, who were watching the loving couple. He saw the same expressions mirrored on the faces of the humans.

"Not in public," Roland said to his sister, jerking her away from Paithan.

There was no further conversation among the mensch about the star.

Trouble, Haplo foresaw, was coming to paradise.

The mensch found that the ship was smaller than it had first appeared. Food and water supplies disappeared at an alarming rate. Some of the humans began to remember they had been slaves, some of the elves recalled that they had been masters.

The convivial get-togethers ended. No one discussed their destination-at least as a group. The elves and humans met to talk over matters, but they met separately now and kept their voices low.

Haplo sensed the growing tension and cursed it and his passengers. He didn't mind divisiveness. He was, in fact, intent on encouraging it. But not on his ship.

Food and water weren't a problem. He had laid in stores for himself and the dog-making certain he had a variety this time-and he could easily replicate what he had. But who knew how long he would have to feed these people and put up with them? Not without a certain amount of misgiving, he had set his course based on the old man's instructions. They were flying toward the brightest star in the heavens. Who knew how long it would take them to reach it?

Certainly not Zifnab.

"What's for dinner?" asked the old wizard, peering down into the hold, where Haplo stood, pondering these questions. The dog, standing at Haplo's side, looked up and wagged his tail. Haplo glanced at it irritably. "Sit down!" he muttered.

Noting the relatively small amount of supplies remaining, Zifnab appeared slightly crestfallen, also extremely hungry.

"Never mind, old man. I can take care of the food!" said Haplo. It would mean using his magic again, but at this point, he didn't suppose it mattered. What interested him more was their destination and how long it would be before he could rid himself of his refugees. "You know something about these stars, don't you?"

"I do?" Zifnab was wary.

"You claim you do. Talking to them about"-he jerked a thumb in the direction of the main part of the ship where the mensch generally gathered-"this 'new' world ..."

"New? I didn't say anything about 'new,' " Zifnab protested. The old man scratched his head, knocking his hat off. It tumbled down into the hold, landed at Haplo's feet.

"New world ... being reunited with long-dead wives." Haplo picked up the battered hat, toyed with it.

"It's possible!" cried the wizard shrilly. "Anything's possible." He reached out a tentative hand for the hat. "M-mind you don't crush the brim."

"What brim? Listen, old man, how far are we away from this star? How many days of travel to get there?"

"Well, er, I suppose." Zifnab gulped. "It all depends ... on ... on how fast we're traveling! That's it, how fast we're traveling." He warmed to his subject. "Say that we're moving at the speed of light... . Impossible, of course, if you believe physicists. Which I don't, by the way. Physicists don't believe in wizards-a fact that I, being a wizard, find highly insulting. I have taken my revenge, therefore, by refusing to believe in physicists. What was the question?"

Haplo started over again, trying to be patient. "Do you know what these stars really are?"

"Certainly," Zifnab replied in lofty tones, staring down his nose at the Patryn.

"What are they?"

"What are what?"

"The stars?"

"You want me to explain them?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Well, I think the best way to put this"-sweat broke out on the old man's forehead-"in layman's terms, to be concise, they're ... er ... stars."

"Uh huh," said Haplo grimly. "Look, old man, just how close have you actually been to a star?"

Zifnab mopped his forehead with the end of his beard, and thought hard. "I stayed in the same hotel as Clark Gable once," he offered helpfully, after an immense pause.

Haplo gave a disgusted snort, sent the hat spinning up and out of the hatchway. "All right, keep playing your game, old man."

The Patryn turned back, studying the supplies-a barrel of water, a cask of salted targ, bread and cheese, and bag of tangfruit. Sighing, scowling, Haplo stood staring moodily at the water barrel.

"Mind if I watch?" asked Zifnab politely.

"You know, old man, I could end this real quick. Jettison the 'cargo'-if you take my meaning. It's a long way down."

"Yes, you could," said Zifnab, easing himself onto the deck, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the hatch. "And you'd do it in a minute, too. Our lives mean nothing to you, do they, Haplo? The only one who has ever mattered to you is you."

"You're wrong, old man. For what it's worth, one person has my allegiance, my loyalty. I'd lay down my life to save his and feel cheated that I couldn't do more for him."

"Ah, yes," Zifnab said softly. "Your lord. The one who sent you here."

Haplo scowled. How the hell did the old fool know that? He must have inferred it from things I've let drop. It was careless, very careless. Damn! Everything's going wrong! The Patryn gave the water barrel a vicious kick, splitting the staves, sending a deluge of tepid liquid over his feet.

I'm used to being in control; all my life, every situation, I've been in control. It was how I survived the Labyrinth, how I completed my mission successfully on Arianus. Now I'm doing things I never meant to do, saying things I never meant to say! A bunch of mutants with the intelligence of your average rutabaga nearly destroy me. I'm hauling a group of mensch to a star and putting up with a crazy old man, who's crazy like a fox.

"Why?" Haplo demanded aloud, shoving aside the dog, who was eagerly lapping up the spill. "Just tell me why?"

"Curiosity," said the old man complacently. "It's killed more than a few cats in its day."

"Is that a threat?" Haplo glanced up from beneath lowered brows.

"No! Heavens, no!" Zifnab said hastily, shaking his head. "Just a warning, dear boy. Some people consider curiosity a very dangerous concept. Asking questions ofttimes leads to the truth. And that can get you into a great deal of trouble."

"Yeah, well, it depends on what truth you believe in, doesn't it, old man?"

Haplo lifted a piece of wet wood, traced a sigla on it with his finger, and tossed it back into the comer. Instantly, the other pieces of broken barrel leapt to join it. Within the space of a heartbeat, the barrel stood intact. The Patryn drew runes on both the barrel and in the empty air next to it. The barrel replicated itself, and soon numerous barrels, all filled with water, occupied the hold. Haplo traced fiery runes in the air, causing tubs of salted targ meat to join the ranks of water barrels. Wine jars sprang up, clinking together musically. Within a few short moments, the hold was loaded with food.

Haplo climbed the ladder leading up out of the hold. Zifnab moved aside to let him past.

"All in what truth you believe in, old man," the Patryn repeated.

"Yes. Loaves and fishes." Zifnab winked slyly. "Eh, Savior?"

Food and water led, somewhat indirectly, to the crisis that came near solving all of Haplo's problems for him.

"What is that stench?" demanded Aleatha. "And are you going to do something about it?"

It was about a week into their journey; time being estimated by a mechanical hour flower the elves had brought aboard. Aleatha had wandered up to the bridge, to stand and stare out at the star that was their destination.

"The bilge," stated Haplo absently, trying to devise some method of measuring the distance between themselves and their destination. "I told you, you're all going to have to take turns pumping it out."

The elves of Arianus, who had built and designed the ship, had devised an effective system of waste management, utilizing elven machinery and magic. Water is scarce and extremely valuable on the air world of Arianus. As the basis for monetary exchange, not a drop is wasted. Some of the first magicks created on Arianus dealt with the conversion of waste water back into pure liquid. Human water wizards dealt directly with nature's elements, obtaining pure water from foul. Elven wizards used machines and alchemy to achieve the same effect, many elves swearing that their chemical wizardry produced better-tasting water than the humans' elemental magic.

On taking over the ship, Haplo had removed most of the elven machinery, leaving only the bilge pump in case the ship took on rainwater. The Patryns, through their rune magic, have their own methods of dealing with bodily waste, methods that are highly secret and protected-not out of shame, but out of simple survival. An animal will bury its droppings to keep an enemy from tracking it.

Haplo had not, therefore, been overly worried about the problem of sanitation. He'd checked the pump. It worked. The humans and the elves aboard ship could take turns at it. Preoccupied with his mathematical calculations, he thought no more of his conversation with Aleatha, other than making a mental note to set everyone to work.

His figuring was interrupted by a scream, a shout, and the sounds of voices raised in anger. The dog, dozing beside him, leapt to its feet with a growl.

"Now what?" Haplo muttered, leaving the bridge, descending to the crew's quarters below.

"They're not your slaves any longer, Lady!"

The Patryn entered the cabin, found Roland-red-faced and shouting-standing in front of a pale, composed, and icily calm Aleatha. The human contingent was backing up their man. The elves were solidly behind Aleatha. Paithan and Rega, looking distraught, stood, hand in hand, in the middle. The old man, of course-when there was trouble-was nowhere to be found.

"You humans were born to be slaves! You know nothing else!" retorted a young elf, the cook's nephew-a particularly large and strong specimen of elven manhood.

Roland surged forward, fist clenched, other humans behind.