Haplo grinned. He had not meant to follow her, not intentionally. But it seemed that they were keeping to the same trail. "How is she? Did she look well?"

The headman gave Haplo a keen, searching gaze. "Yes, she looked well. But I didn't see that much of her. You might ask Antius, over there. He spent the night with her."

The warmth vanished. The air was chill, the wind cut through him. Haplo turned, saw the well-formed young man with whom he had held hands walking across the compound.

"She left in the morning. I can show you the direction she traveled."

"That won't be necessary. Thank you, though," Haplo added, to ease the coldness of his reply. He looked around, saw the young girl. She was staring at Haplo, and blushed up to the roots of her hair when her gaze was returned.

Haplo returned to the headman's hut, began gathering up his meager belongings; runners traveled light. The headman followed, stared at him in astonishment.

"Your hospitality has saved my life," the Patryn gave the ritual farewell. "Before I leave, I will tell you what I know. Reports say to take the west trail to the fifty-first Gate. Rumor has it that the powerful One, who first solved the secret of the Labyrinth, has returned with his magic to clear certain parts and make them safe ... at least temporarily. I can't say if this is true or not, since I have come from the south."

"You're leaving? But it is perilous to travel the Labyrinth after dark!"

"It doesn't matter," said Haplo. He put his hands together, pressed them against his forehead, made the ritual gesture of farewell. The headman returned it, and Haplo left the hut. He paused a moment in the doorway. The bonfire's glow lit all around it, but it made the darkness beyond that much darker by contrast. Haplo took a step toward that darkness when he felt a hand upon his arm.

"The Labyrinth kills what it can-if not our bodies, then our spirit," said the headman. "Grieve for your loss, my son, and never forget who is responsible. The ones who imprisoned us, the ones who are undoubtedly watching our struggle with pleasure."

It's the Sartan... . They put us in this hell. They're the ones responsible for this evil.

The woman looked at him, her brown eyes flecked with gold. I wonder. Maybe it's the evil inside us.

Haplo walked away from the squatter's camp, continued his solitary run. No, he didn't miss the woman. Didn't miss her at all... .

In the Labyrinth, a certain type of tree, known as the waranth, bears a particularly luscious and nourishing fruit. Those who pick the fruit, however, run the risk of being stabbed by the poisoned thorns surrounding it. Attacking the flesh left necessarily unprotected by the runes, the thorns burrow deep, seeking blood. If allowed to get into the blood stream, the poison can kill. Therefore, although the thorns are barbed and rip flesh coming out, they must be extracted immediately-at the cost of considerable pain.

Haplo had thought he'd extracted the thorn. He was surprised to find it still hurt him, its poison was still in his system.

"I don't think you'd want my people's ceremony." His voice grated, the furrowed brows shadowed his eyes. "Would you like to hear our vows? 'My life for your life. My death for your life. My life for your death. My death for your death.' Do you really want to take those?"

Rega paled. "What-what does it mean? I don't understand."

" 'My life for your life.' That means that while we live, we share the joy of living with each other. 'My death for your life.' I would be willing to lay down my life to save yours. 'My life for your death.' I will spend my life avenging your death, if I can't prevent it. 'My death for your death.' A part of me will die, when you do."

"It's not ... very romantic," Paithan admitted.

"Neither's the place I come from."

"I guess I'd like to think about it," said Rega, not looking at the elf.

"Yes, I suppose we better," Paithan added, more soberly.

The two left the bridge, this time they weren't holding hands. Zifnab, looking after them fondly, dabbed at his eyes with the end of his beard.

"Love makes the world go round!" he said happily.

"Not this world," replied Haplo with a quiet smile. "Does it, old man?"

CHAPTER 33.

DRAGON STAR.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT," SNORTED ZIFNAB AND STARTED to walk off the bridge.

"Yes, you do." Haplo's hand closed over the wizard's thin, brittle arm. "You see, I know where we're going and I've got a pretty clear idea of what we're going to find when we get there. And you, old man, are in for a hell of a lot of trouble."

A fiery eye peered suddenly in the window, glaring ominously. "What have you done now?" demanded the dragon.

"Nothing. Everything's under control!" Zifnab protested.

"Under appears to be the operative word! I just want you to know, I'm getting extremely hungry." The dragon's eye closed and vanished. Haplo felt the ship shudder, the dragon's coils dosing around it ominously.

Zifnab crumpled, the thin frame caved in on itself. He gave the dragon a nervous glance. "Did you notice-he didn't say, 'sir.' A bad sign. A very bad sign."

Haplo grunted. All he needed was an enraged dragon. Furious shouting had erupted from down below, followed by a crash, a thud, and a scream. "My guess is that they've announced the wedding plans."

"Oh, dear." Removing his hat, Zifnab began to twist it between trembling fingers and shot Haplo a pleading glance. "What am I going to do?"

"Maybe I can help you. Tell me who you are, what you are. Tell me about the 'stars.' Tell me about the Sartan."

Zifnab mulled it over, then his eyes narrowed. He lifted a bony finger, jabbed it in Haplo's chest.

"Mine to know. Yours to find out. So there!" Chin jutting, he smiled benignly at the Patryn and gave a brief, sharp chuckle. Jamming his maltreated hat back on his head, the old man patted Haplo solicitously on the arm and tottered off the bridge.

Haplo stood staring, wondering why he hadn't ripped off the old man's head-hat and all. Scowling, the Patryn rubbed the place on his chest where the wizard's finger had rested, trying to rid himself of the touch.

"Just wait, old man, until we reach the star."

"Our wedding was supposed to bring everyone together!" said Rega, wiping away tears of frustration and anger. "I can't think what's gotten into Roland!"

"Do you want to go through with it?" Paithan asked, massaging a bump on the brow.

Both stared dismally around the crew's quarters. Blood spattered the floor. Haplo had not appeared to break this one up, and numerous humans and elves had been carried feet first from the cabin. In a corner, Lenthan Quindiniar stood staring out a porthole at the brightly shining star that seemed to grow larger every cycle. The elf had never appeared to notice the altercation raging around him.

Rega thought a moment, then sighed. "If we could just get our people to join together again! Like they were after the tytans attacked!"

"I'm not sure that's possible. Hatred and mistrust has been building for thousands of years. The two of us aren't likely to have any effect on that."

"You mean you don't want to get married?" Rega's dusky skin flushed, the dark eyes glinted through her tears.

"Yes, of course, I do! But I was thinking about those vows. Maybe now's not the time-"

"And maybe what Roland said about you was right! You're a spoiled brat who's never done an honest cycle's work in your life! And on top of that you're a coward and-Oh, Paithan! I'm sorry!" Rega threw her arms around him, nestled her head on his chest.

"I know." Paithan ran his hand through the long, shimmering hair. "I said a few things to your brother I'm not exactly proud of."

"The words just came out, from some ugly part inside me! It's like you said, the hate's been there for so long!"

"We'll have to be patient with each other. And with them." Paithan glanced out the porthole. The star shone serenely, with a pure, cold light. "Maybe in this new world we'll find everyone living together in peace. Maybe then the others will see and understand. But I'm still not certain getting married's the right thing to do now. What do you think, Father?"

Paithan turned to Lenthan Quindiniar, staring raptly out the porthole at the star.

"Father?"

Eyes vacant, shining with the star's light, Lenthan glanced around vaguely at his son. "What, my boy?"

"Do you think we should be married?"

"I think ... I think we should wait and ask your mother." Lenthan sighed happily, and gazed back out the porthole. "We'll see her, when we reach the star."

Drugar had not been involved in the fight. He was not involved in anything on board the ship. The others, immersed in their own troubles, ignored the dwarf. Huddled in his corner, terrified by the idea that they were higher than the clouds above his beloved ground, the dwarf tried to use his lust for vengeance to burn away the fear. But the fire of his hate had dwindled to coals.

They saved your life. The enemy you swore to kill saved your life at the risk of their own.

"I swore an oath, on the bodies of my people, to kill those who were responsible for their deaths." Feeling the flames die, feeling himself cold without their comforting blaze, the dwarf stoked the furnace of his rage. "These three knew the tytans were coming to destroy us! They knew! And they conspired together, took our money, and then deliberately kept their weapons from reaching my people! They wanted us to be destroyed! I should have killed them when I had the chance."

It had been a mistake, not murdering them in the tunnels. The fire had burned bright within him. But they would have died without the knowledge of their own terrible losses, they would have died peacefully. No, he shouldn't second-guess himself. It was better this way. They would arrive on this star of theirs, they would think that all was going to end happily.

Instead, it would end.

"They saved my life. So what? It only proves what fools they are! I saved their lives first. We're even now. I owe them nothing, nothing! Drakar is wise, the god watches over me. He has held back my hand, prevented me from striking until the time is right." The dwarf's fingers clenched over the bone handle of his knife. "When we reach the star."

"So, are you going to go through with this farce? Are you going to marry the elf?"

"No," said Rega.

Roland smiled grimly. "Good. You thought over what I said. I knew you'd come to your senses!"

"We're only postponing the wedding! Until we reach the star. Maybe by then you'll have come to your senses!"

"We'll see," muttered Roland, trying clumsily to wrap a bandage around his split and bleeding knuckles. "We'll see."

"Here, let me do that." His sister took over. "What do you mean? I don't like the way you look."

"No, you'd prefer it if I had slanted eyes and soft little hands and skin the color of milk!" Roland snatched his hand away. "Get out of here. You stink of them! Elves! They trick you into loving them, wanting them! And all the time they're laughing at you!"

"What are you talking about?" Rega stared at her brother, amazed. "Tricking us? If anything I tricked Paithan into loving me, not the other way around! And, Thillia knows, no one's laughing on this ship-"

"Oh, yeah?" Roland kept his eyes averted from his sister. He spoke the next words below his breath, to her back. "We'll deal with the elves. Just wait until we reach the star."

Aleatha wiped her hand across her mouth, for the twentieth time. The kiss was like the stench of the bilge that seemed to cling to everything-her clothes, her hair, her skin. She couldn't get the taste and the touch of the human off her lips.

"Let me see your hands," said Paithan.

"Why should you care?" Aleatha demanded, but allowing her brother to examine her cracked, bleeding and blistered palms. "You didn't defend me. You took their part, all because of that little whore! You let that man drag me off to that hellhole!"

"I don't think I could have stopped Haplo from taking you," said Paithan quietly. "From the look on his face, I think you were lucky he didn't throw you off the ship."

"I wish he had. It would be better to be dead! Like My Lord and ... and Callie ..." Aleatha hung her head, tears choked her. "What kind of life is this!" She clutched at the skirt of her tattered and torn, dirty and stained dress, shook it, sobbing. "We're living in filth like humans! No wonder we're sinking to their level! Animals!"

"Thea, don't say that. You don't understand them." Paithan sought to comfort her. Aleatha shoved him away.

"What do you know? You're blinded by lust!" Aleatha wiped her hand across her lips. "Ugh! Savages! I hate them! I hate all of them! No, don't come near me. You're no better than they are now, Paithan."

"You better get used to it, Thea," said her brother, irritated. "One of them's going to be your sister."

"Hah!" Raising her head, Aleatha fixed him with a cold stare, her mouth pursed-prim and tight. Her resemblance to her older sister was suddenly frightening. "Not me! If you marry that whore, I have no brother. I will never see you or speak to you again!"

"You can't mean that, Thea. We're all each of us has left. Father. You've seen Father. He's ... he's not well."

"He's insane. And it's going to get worse when we reach this 'star' you've dragged us off to and Mother's not there to greet him! It will kill him, most likely. And whatever happens to him will be all your fault!"

"I did what I thought was best." The elf's face was pale, his voice, in spite of himself, trembled and broke.

Aleatha gave him a remorseful look, reached up and smoothed back his hair with gentle fingers. She drew near him. "You're right. All we have now is each other, Pait. Let's keep it that way. Stay with me. Don't go back to that human. She's just toying with you. You know how human men are. I mean"-she flushed-"I mean, you know how their women are. When we reach the star, we'll start our lives all over again.

"We'll take care of Papa and we'll live happily. Maybe there'll be other elves there. Rich elves, richer than any in Equilan. And they'll have magnificent houses and they'll welcome us to their homes. And the nasty, savage humans can crawl back into their jungle." She rested her head on her brother's chest. Drying her tears, she drew her hand, once again, across her mouth.

Paithan said nothing, but let his sister dream. When we reach the star, he thought. What will happen to us when we reach the star?

The mensch took Haplo's threat about the ship falling out of the skies seriously. An uneasy peace descended on the ship-a peace differing from war only in that it was less noisy and no blood was shed. If looks and wishes had been weapons, however, hardly anyone aboard would have been left alive.

Humans and elves pointedly ignored each other's existence. Rega and Paithan kept apart, either acting wisely, out of mutual consent, or because the barriers being erected by their people were becoming too thick and too high for them to surmount. The occasional fight broke out among the more hotheaded of the youth and was halted quickly by their elders. But the promise was in the eyes, if not on the lips, that it would be only a matter of time.

"When we reach the star ..."

There was no more talk of a wedding.

CHAPTER 34.

THE STAR.