Margaret Weis - Into the Labyrinth

“And that’s where you’re going to be putting us,” Haplo said.

“Essentially it’s where you’re putting yourselves,” Vasu replied. “Isn’t that true? If you wanted to leave, you could do so.”

“And bring destruction on my own people? I didn’t come here to do that,” Haplo replied.

“You could leave this human—and the knife he carries—behind.” Haplo shook his head. “No, it’s my responsibility. I brought the knife in here—unknowingly, but I brought it. Between the three of us”—he took in Alfred and Hugh the Hand—“maybe we can figure out how to destroy it.” Vasu nodded in understanding and agreement.

Haplo was silent a moment; then he said quietly, “But I won’t let Xar take me.”

Vasu’s expression hardened. “He will not take you without my consent. That I promise you. I will hear what he has to say and make my judgment accordingly.” Haplo almost laughed out loud. Struggling, he maintained a straight face.

“You’ve never met Xar, Headman Vasu. My lord takes what he wants. He’s not accustomed to being denied anything.”

Vasu smiled indulgently. “Meaning that I won’t have any say in the matter.” He patted his round stomach complacently. “I may look soft, Haplo. But don’t underestimate me.”

Haplo remained unconvinced, but arguing would not have been polite. When the time came, he alone would have to deal with Xar. Haplo went back to his dark inner struggle.

“I can’t help but wonder, Headman Vasu”—this was Alfred—“how exactly do you keep people imprisoned? Considering that our magic is based on possibilities and with the vast range of possibilities for escape available... Not that I plan to try to escape,” he added hastily. “And if you’d prefer not to tell me, I understand—”

“It is really quite simple,” Vasu answered gravely. “In the realm of possibility, there is always the possibility, that there are no possibilities.”

Alfred’s eyes glazed over.

The dog nipped him on the ankle, saved him from falling into a hole.

“No possibilities,” Alfred repeated, thinking. He shook his head, baffled. Vasu smiled. “I will be happy to explain. As you must surmise, the reduction of all possibilities to no possibilities is an extremely difficult and complex spell to cast. We place the person in a small, enclosed area, such as a prison cell or a dungeon. The need for such an enclosure is due to the nature of the spell, which requires that, within this area, time itself must be stopped, for only by stopping time can one stop the possibility of things occurring within time. It would be neither feasible nor advisable to stop time for the entire population of Abri.

“Thus we have constructed what is known as a ‘well’—a small chamber deep inside the cavern where time literally comes to a halt. A person exists within a frozen second and, during that second, so long as the magic is operative, there exists no possibility of escape. The person within the cell continues to live, but—if held for a long period—would not physically change, would not age. People suffering from Labyrinth sickness are never kept in here long, just long enough for us to counsel and heal them.”

“How ingenious!” Alfred was admiring.

“Isn’t it,” Haplo remarked dryly.

Worried and alone, Marit roamed the city streets until long after the Labyrinth’s grayness had darkened to night. Numerous Patryns offered her hospitality, but Marit refused, regarded them warily, suspiciously. She didn’t trust them, couldn’t trust her own people anymore. The knowledge grieved her. She felt more alone than ever.

I should go to Vasu, she thought. Warn him, but of what? My story sounds wild, implausible. Snakes disguised as Patryns. An attack on the city. Sealing shut the Final Gate...

“And why should I trust Vasu?” she asked herself. “Perhaps he’s in league with them. I must wait for my lord. Those are my orders. And yet... And yet...” Guided by evil...

Haplo would believe her. He was the one person who would, the one person who would know what to do. Yet to take this to him was to betray Xar’s trust. I came to find my daughter...

And what about that daughter, that baby she’d given up so long ago? What would happen to her, to all the daughters and the sons of the Patryns if the Final Gate was sealed shut? Was it possible Haplo had been telling the truth?

Marit turned her steps toward the mountain dungeon.

The streets were dark and silent. The Patryns holed up in their dwellings to keep themselves and their families safe from the insidious evil of the Labyrinth, evil whose strength increased at night.

She passed the houses, the lighted windows, heard voices from inside. Families together. Safe, for the moment...

Her steps quickened, driven by fear.

Abri had started inside the mountain, but no Patryns lived there now. The need to lurk in caves, like hunted animals, was over for them.

Entrances into the mountain had been sealed up, a Patryn told her in answer to her question. Closed off, used only in time of emergency. One entrance remained open, the entrance that led to the dungeons.

Marit headed for it, rehearsing what she would say to the guards, figuring how to convince them to let her see Haplo. It was only when she noticed that her arm was itching, burning, that she realized she wasn’t the only one intent on entering the cavern.

Marit could see the cavern entrance, a black hole against the grayer, softer darkness of night. Two Patryns stood guarding it. Except that they weren’t Patryns. No runes glowed on their skin.

Marit blessed the magic for its warning. Otherwise she would have walked right into their arms. Hiding in the shadows, she watched and listened. Four shapes converged on the cavern. The voices of the guards, soft and hissing, slid through the night.

“You can approach safely. No one has been around.”

“Are the prisoners alone in there?”

Marit recognized Sang-drax’s voice.

“Alone and trapped in a time well,” was the report.

“A marvelous irony,” said Sang-drax. “By imprisoning the only people who could save them, these fool Patryns will be responsible for their own destruction. We four will enter. You two stay here, make certain we are not disturbed. I don’t suppose you know where they are being held?”

“No, we could not very well accompany them, could we? We would have been recognized.”

Sang-drax shrugged. “No matter. I will find them. I can smell the scent of warm blood even now.”

The false Patryns laughed.

“Will you be long at your ‘task’?” one asked.

“They deserve to die slowly,” said another. “Especially the Serpent Mage, who murdered our king.”

“I must make their deaths quick, unfortunately,” Sang-drax replied. “The armies are gathering and I need to be on hand to organize them. And you must hasten to the Final Gate. But do not be disappointed. We will feast on blood tomorrow and, once the Final Gate is sealed, for all eternity.” Marit reached for her dagger. The single red eye swiveled, glanced over at her. She cowered into the darkness. The red eye mesmerized her, conjured up images of death—terrible, tortured. She wanted to run and hide. Her hand fell, nerveless, from the dagger’s hilt.

The red eye laughed, passed on.

Helpless, Marit watched the four dragon-snakes enter the cave. The other two took up their positions outside.

Once Sang-drax had disappeared, Marit recovered. She had to get inside the cavern, had to get inside that magical room to warn Haplo, to free him, if possible. The thought of Xar came fleetingly to her mind.

“If my lord were here,” she reasoned, “if he heard the dragon-snakes as I have heard them, he would do the very same thing.”