Fire Sea: The Death Gate Cycle, Volume 3 by Hickman Tracy & Weis Margaret

Author:Hickman, Tracy & Weis, Margaret [Hickman, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 2008-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

NECROPOLIS,

ABARRACH

IT HAD BEEN A GAMBLE, BRINGING UP THE SUBJECT OF Death's Gate. The dynast might have blinked once, shrugged his shoulders, and ordered the cadaver to pick up the dropped spear and try again.

Haplo wasn't risking his life. His magic would protect him from the spear's deadly point, unlike the poor devil of a prince, who lay sprawled dead on the floor at the Patryn's feet. It was the revelation of his potent magical power that Haplo sought to avoid, one reason he'd faked unconsciousness when that cadaver had attacked him on the road.

Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on Alfred rushing to his rescue. Damn the man! The one time fainting would have been beneficial, the blasted Sartan weaves some inexplicably complex and powerful magical spell that stands everyone's hair on end. It was always better, Haplo had learned, to encourage your enemy to underestimate you rather than overestimate. You were far more likely to catch him napping.

But at least this gamble had apparently paid off. Kleitus hadn't blinked and shrugged. He knew about Death's Gate, would almost have had to know about it. Obviously intelligent, a powerful necromancer, such a man would certainly have looked for and found any ancient records those early Sartan had left.

His “opening bid” strategy flashed through Haplo's mind while the prince's splattered blood was still warm on the Patryn's rune-covered skin.

The dynast had recovered his composure, was affecting indifference. “Your corpse will provide me with whatever information I might require, including information about this so-called Death's Gate.”

“It might,” Haplo countered. “Or it might not. My magic is kin to yours, that's true, but different. Far different. Necromancy has never been practiced among my people and there could be a reason for it. Once the brain that controls these sigla”—he held up his arm—“is dead, the magic dies. Unlike you, my physical being is inextricably bound with the magic. Separate one from the other and you may have a cadaver who can't even remember its name, much less anything else.”

“What makes you think we care what you remember?”

“Ships, to find Death's Gate. Those were the words you used, almost the last words this poor fool heard.” Haplo gestured at Edmund's torn body. “Your world's dying. But you know it isn't the end. You know about the other worlds. And you're right. They exist. I've been there. And I can take you back with me.”

The cadaver had picked up the spear and was holding it ready, aimed for Haplo's heart. The dynast made an abrupt gesture, and the cadaver lowered the weapon, brought it down butt end against the cavern floor, and resumed standing at attention.

“Don't harm him. Take him to the dungeon,” ordered Kleitus. “Pons, take both of them to the dungeons. We must think this matter through.”

“The prince's body, Sire. Shall we send it to oblivion?”

“Where are your brains, Pons?” the dynast demanded irritably. “Of course not! His people will declare war against us. The corpse will tell us everything we need to know to plan our defense.

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