Margaret Weis - The Hand of Chaos

A shining head with two beady eyes and a wide-open, laughing mouth popped out of the water directly in front of him. Two more heads shot up on either side of him, four swam about him in rollicking delight, nosing him and prodding him.

Dolphins.

Haplo gasped, spit out water. The dog attempted a furious bark, which proceeding highly amused the dolphins and nearly drowned the dog. Haplo dragged its forelegs up onto the plank, where the animal lay panting and glaring.

“Where are the dragon-snakes?” Haplo demanded, speaking in the human tongue. Previously, the dolphins had refused to talk to him or have anything to do with him. But that was when they’d assumed him to be—rightly enough—on the side of the serpents. Now their attitude toward him had changed. They began to squeak and whistle in excitement and a few started to swim off, eager to be the first to spread the news around the mensch that the mysterious man with the blue-tattooed skin had reappeared.

“No! Wait, don’t go. Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me,” he said hastily.

“What’s going on here? Where are the dragon-snakes?” The dolphins squeaked and gabbled. In seconds, Haplo heard everything he wanted to know and quite a lot that he didn’t.

“We heard that Samah took you prisoner...”

“The snakes brought poor Alake’s body back to...”

“Parents prostrate with grief ...”

“Snakes said you...”

“. . . and the Sartan...”

“Yes, you and the Sartan were responsible ...”

“You double-crossed...”

“Betrayed your friends...”

“Coward...”

“No one believed...”

“Yes, they did...”

“No, they didn’t. Well, maybe for a moment...”

“Anyway, the snakes used their magic to bore holes in the Chalice...”

“Gigantic holes!”

“Huge!”

“Immense!”

“Floodgates.”

“Opened at once... a wall of water...”

“Tidal wave ...”

“Nothing survive... Sartan crushed!”

“Flattened...”

“City destroyed...”

“We warned the mensch about the dragon-snakes and their bore holes...”

“Grundle and Devon returned...”

“Told the true story. You are a hero...”

“No, he isn’t. That was the one called Alfred.”

“I was only being polite...”

“Mensch were worried...”

“They don’t want to kill the Sartan...”

“They’re afraid of the dragon-snakes. Dwarven ships went to investigate ...”

“But the snakes are nowhere in sight...”

“The dwarves opened the floodgates just a crack and...”

“Stop! Shut up!” Haplo shouted, managing at last to make himself heard. “What do you mean ‘the snakes are nowhere in sight’? Where are they?” The dolphins began to argue among themselves. Some said the serpents had returned to Draknor, but the general consensus seemed to be that the snakes had swum through the holes and were attacking the Sartan in Surunan.

“No, they’re not,” said Haplo. “I just came from Surunan, and the city’s quiet. The Sartan are, as far as I know, safely inside their Council Chamber, trying to keep dry.”

The dolphins looked rather disappointed at this news. They meant no harm to the Sartan, but it had been such a great story. They were now all in agreement.

“The dragon-snakes must have gone back to Draknor.” Haplo was forced to agree himself. The serpents had returned to Draknor. But why? Why had they left Surunan so abruptly? Why had they abandoned the chance to destroy the Sartan? Abandoned their plans to foment chaos among the mensch, turn them against each other?

Haplo couldn’t answer the questions, supposed bitterly it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the serpents were on Draknor and so was his ship.

“I don’t suppose any of you have been to Draknor to find out?” he asked. The dolphins squealed in alarm at the thought, shook their heads emphatically. None would get near Draknor. It was a terrible place of great sadness and evil. The water itself was poison, killed anything that swam in it. Haplo forwent mentioning that he himself had swum in the water and survived. He couldn’t blame these gentle creatures for not wanting to go near Draknor. He wasn’t pleased at the prospect of returning to that tortured seamoon himself. But he had no choice.

Now his main problem was ridding himself of the dolphins. Fortunately, that was simple. They loved to feel important.

“I need you fish to carry a message from me to the mensch leaders, to be delivered to every member of the royal family in person, in private. Understand? It’s extremely important.”

“We’ll be only too glad...”

“You can trust...”

“Implicitly...”

“Tell every person...”

“No, not every...”

“Just the royal...”

“Every person, I tell you...”

“I’m sure that’s what he said...”

Once he got them quiet long enough to hear, Haplo imparted the message, taking care that it was complicated and involved.

The dolphins listened intently and swam off the moment Haplo shut his mouth. When he was certain that the dolphins’ attention was no longer on him, he and the dog swam to the submersible, climbed aboard, and sailed off.

Haplo had never completely mastered the dwarven system of navigation, which, according to Grundle, relied on sounds emitted by the seamoons themselves. At first he was concerned about being able to find Draknor, but he soon discovered that the seamoon was easy to find... too easy. The serpents left a trail of foul ooze in their wake. The path led to the murky black waters surrounding the tormented seamoon.

Darkness swallowed him. He had sailed into the caverns of Draknor. He could see nothing and, fearful of running aground, slowed the submersible’s forward progress until it barely moved. He could swim through the foul water, if he had to; he’d done it before. But he hoped swimming wouldn’t be necessary. His hands were dry, and his lower arms where he’d rolled up the wet sleeves. The runes were extremely faint, but they were visible. And though they gave him the magical power of a child of two, the faint blue of the sigla was comforting. He didn’t want to get wet again.

The submersible’s prow scraped against rock. Haplo steered it swiftly upward, breathed a sigh when it continued, unimpeded. He must be nearing the shore. He decided to risk bringing the vessel to the surface...

The runes on his hands! Blue. Faint blue.

Haplo brought the ship to a full stop, stared down at the sigla. Faint blue color, not nearly as blue as the veins beneath his skin on the back of his hands. And that was odd. Damn odd!

Weak as they were, the sigla should have been glowing—his body’s reaction to the danger of the serpents. But the sigla weren’t reacting as they had in the past and, he realized, neither were his other instincts. He’d been too preoccupied piloting the submersible to notice.

Before, when he’d come this close to the snakes’ lair, he could scarcely move, scarcely think for the debilitating fear that flowed from the monsters. But Haplo wasn’t afraid; at least, he amended, he wasn’t afraid for himself. His fear ran deeper. It was cold and twisted him inside.

“What’s going on, boy?” he asked the dog, who had crowded near him and was whimpering against his leg.

Haplo patted the animal reassuringly, though he himself could have used reassurance. The dog whined and edged closer.

The Patryn started the vessel again, guided it toward the surface, his attention divided between the gradually brightening water and the sigla on his skin. The runes did not alter in appearance.

Judging by the evidence of his own body, the serpents were no longer on Draknor. But if they weren’t on Draknor and they weren’t with the mensch and they weren’t battling the Sartan, where were they?