Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - Deathgate Cycle 2

PROLOGUE

". . .WORLD DOMINATION WAS WITHIN OUR GRASP. OUR ANCIENT ENEMY,

the Sartan, was powerless to prevent our ascendency. The knowledge that they

would be forced to live under our rule was galling to them, bitter as

wormwood. The Sartan determined to take drastic measures, committing an act of

desperation almost impossible to conceive. Rather than permit us to take over

the world, the Sartan destroyed it.

"In its place, the Sartan created four new worlds, formed out of the elements

of the old: Air, Fire, Stone, and Water. The peoples of the world who survived

the holocaust were transported by the Sartan to live in these new worlds. We,

their ancient enemy, were cast into a magical prison known as the Labyrinth.

"According to their records that 1 discovered in the Nexus, the Sartan hoped

that prison life would 'rehabilitate' us, that we would emerge from the

Labyrinth chastened, our domineering and, what they term 'cruel,' natures

softened. But something went wrong with their scheme. Our Sartan jailers,

those who were to control the Labyrinth, disappeared. The Labyrinth itself

took over, and turned from prison to executioner.

"Countless numbers of our people have died in that fearsome place. Entire

generations have been wiped out, destroyed. But, before it died, each

generation sent its children forward, each succeeding generation drew nearer

and nearer to freedom. At last, through my extraordinary powers of magic, I

was able to defeat the Labyrinth, the first to escape its toils. I passed

through the Last Gate and emerged into this world, known as the Nexus. Here, I

discovered what had been done to us by the Sartan. More . importantly, I

discovered the existence of four new worlds and the connections between the

worlds. I discovered Death's Gate.

*!•

«2* WEIS AND HICKMAN "I returned to the Labyrinth—I return frequently—and

used my magic to fight and stabilize parts of it, providing safe havens for

the rest of my people still struggling to free themselves from their bonds.

Those who have succeeded come to the Nexus and work for me, building up the

city, making ready for the day when, once again, we will take our rightful

place as rulers of the universe. To this end, I am sending explorers through

the Death's Gate into each of the four worlds."1

"... I chose Haplo from the large number of people in my service for several

reasons: his coolheadedness, his quick thinking, his ability to speak fluently

the various languages, and his skill in magic. Haplo proved himself in his

first journey to the Air World of Arianus. Not only did he do what he could to

disrupt the world and plunge it into a devastating war, he also provided me

with much valuable information, as well as a young disciple—a remarkable child

known as Bane.

"I am quite pleased with Haplo and his accomplishments. If I keep a sharp eye

on him, it is because he has an unfortunate tendency to be an independent

thinker. I say nothing to him; this trait is invaluable to me at the moment.

In fact, I do not believe that he himself is even aware of his flaw. He

imagines himself to be dedicated to me. He would sacrifice his life for me

without hesitation. But it is one thing to offer up one's life, it is another

to offer up one's soul.

"Reuniting the four worlds, defeating the Sartan—these will be sweet

victories. But how much sweeter will be the sight of Haplo and those like him

kneeling before me, acknowledging me, in their hearts and in their minds,

their absolute lord and master."2

Haplo, my dear son.

I hope I may term you thus. You are as dear to me as the children I have

fathered. Perhaps that is because I feel that I played a role in your birth—or

rebirth. Certainly I plucked you from the jaws of death and gave you back your

life. And, after

'The Lord of the Nexus, History of the Patryns Following the Destruction of

the World. 2Exceipt from the private diaries of the Lord of the Nexus.

Elve n Star

• 3*

all, what does a natural father do to get himself a son except spend a few

pleasurable moments with a woman?

I had hoped to be able to speed you on your journey to Pryan, Realm of Fire.

Unfortunately, 1 received word from the watchers that the magical field is

crumbling somewhere near the four hundred and sixty-third gate. The Labyrinth

has unleashed a swarm of flesh-devouring ants that have killed several

hundreds of our people. I must go in and do battle and will, therefore, be

absent when you leave. Needless to say, I wish you were at my side as you have

been through countless other fights, but your mission is urgent, and I will

not take you from your dune;

My instructions to you are similar to those you received setting off for

Arianus. You will, of course, keep your magical powers hidden from the

populace. As in Arianus, we must keep our return to the world secret. If the

Sartan discover me before i am ready to proceed with my plans, they would move

heavei and earth (as they did once before) to stop me.

Remember, Haplo, that you are an observer. If possible, take no direct action

to alter events in the world, act through indirect means only. When I enter

these worlds myself, I do not want to face accusations that my agents

committed atrocities in my name. You did an excellent job in Arianus, my son,

and I mention this precaution only as a reminder.

About Pryan, the World of Fire, we know little except that its area is

purportedly vast. The model left behind by the Sartan pictures a gigantic ball

of stone surrounding a core of fire, similar to the ancient world but far, far

larger. It is the size that puzzles me. Why did the Sartan feel the need to

make this planet so incredibly immense? Something else I do not quite

understand and that is—where is its sun? These are among the many questions

you will endeavor to answer.

Because of the enormous amount of land space on Pryan, I can only assume that

its population must tend to be scattered about in small groups, isolated from

each other. I base this on knowledge of the estimated number of people the

Sartan transported to Pryan. Even with an unprecedented population explosion,

the elves, humans, and dwarves could never have expanded to cover such a large

land mass. A disciple to draw the people together, such as you brought me from

Arianus, will be of no use to me under such circumstances.

• 4*

WEIS AND HICKMAN

You are being sent to Pryan primarily as investigator. Learn all you can about

this world and its inhabitants. And, as in Arianus, search diligently for some

sign of the Sartan. Although you did not (with one exception) discover them

living in the World of Air, it is possible that they may have fled that world

and sought exile on Pryan.

Be careful, Haplo, be circumspect. Do nothing to draw attention to yourself. I

embrace you in my heart. I look forward to embracing you in my arms on your

safe and successful return. Your lord and father.3

CHAPTER » 1

EQUILAN, TREETOP LEVEL

3Hapk>, Pryan, World of Fire, vol. 2 of Death Gate journals.

CALANDRA QUINDINIAR SAT AT THE HUGE POLISHED SCROLL DESK ADDING up the last

month's earnings. Her white fingers darted rapidly over the abacus, sliding

the beads up and down, muttering the figures aloud to herself as she wrote

them in the old leather-bound ledger. Her handwriting was much like herself:

thin, upright, precise, and easy to read.

Above her head whirled four plumes made of swans' feathers, keeping the air

moving. Despite the suffocating midcycle heat outside, the interior of the

house was cool. It stood on the highest elevation in the city and so obtained

the breeze that Otherwise was often lost in the jungle vegetation.

The house was the largest in the city, next to the royal palace. (Lenthan

Quindiniar had the money to build his house larger than the royal palace, but

he was a modest elf and knew his place,) The rooms were spacious and airy with

high ceilings and numerous windows and the magical system of flutterfans, at

least one in every room. The living rooms were on the second floor and were

open and beautifully furnished. Drawn shades darkened and cooled them during

bright hours of the cycle. During stormtime, the shades were raised to catch

the refreshing, rain-drenched breezes.

Calandra's younger brother, Paithan, sat in a rocking chair near the desk. He

rocked lazily back and forth, a palm fan in his hand, and watched the rotation

of the swans' wings above his sister's head. Several other fans were visible

to him from the

*5»

• 6*

WEIS AND HICKMAN

Elve n Star

• 7*

study—the fan in the living room and beyond that the fan in the dining area.

He watched them all waft through the air and between the rhythmic flutter of

the wings and the clicking of the beads of the abacus and the gentle creaking

of his chair, he fell into an almost hypnotic trance.

A violent explosion that shook the three-level house jolted Paithan upright.

"Damn," he said, looking irritably at a fine sifting of plaster' that was

falling from the ceiling into his iced drink.

His sister snorted and said nothing. She had paused to blow

plaster off the page of the ledger, but did not miss a figure. A

wail of terror could be heard, coming from the level down below.

"That'll be the new scullery maid," said Paithan, rising to his

feet. "I better go and comfort her, tell her it's only father—"

"You'll do no such thing," snapped Calandra, neither raising her head nor

ceasing to write. "You'll sit right there and wait until I'm finished so that

we can go over your next trip norinth. It's little enough you do to earn your

keep, idling about with your noble friends, doing Orn knows what. Besides, the

new girl's a human and an ugly one at that."

Calandra returned to her addition and subtraction. Paithan subsided

good-naturedly back into his chair.

I might have known, he reflected, that if Calandra'd hire a human at all the

girl'd be some little pig-faced wretch. That's sisterly love for you. Ah,

well, I'll be on the road soon and then what dear Cal doesn't know won't hurt

her.

Paithan rocked, his sister muttered, the fans whirred contentedly.

The elves revere life and so magically endow it on nearly all their creations.

The feathers were under the illusion that they were still attached to the

swan. Paithan, watching them, thought that this might be a good analogy for

their entire family. They were all under the illusion that they were still

attached to something, perhaps even each other.

His peaceful reverie was interrupted by the appearance of a charred, singed,

and disheveled man, who bounded into the room, rubbing his hands.

'Made from a compound of calcium deposits taken from the bones of dead animals

and processed with other organic elements to form a pliable paste.

"That was a good one, don't you think?" he said.

The man was short, for an elf, and had obviously once been robustly plump. The

flesh had begun to sag lately; the skin had turned sallow and slightly puffy.

Though it could not be told beneath the soot, the gray hair standing up around

a large bald spot on his head revealed that he was in his middle years. Other

than his graying hair, it might have been difficult to guess the elfs age

because his face was smooth and unwrinkled—too 1 smooth. His eyes were

bright—too bright. He rubbed his hands and looked anxiously from daughter to

son.

'That was a good one, wasn't it?" he repeated.

"Sure, Guvnor," said Paithan in good-humored agreement. '^Nearly knocked me

over backward."

Lenthan Quindiniar smiled jerkily.

"Calandra?" he persisted.

"You've sent the kitchen help into hysterics and put new cracks in the

ceiling, if that's what you mean, Father," retorted Calandra, snapping the

beads together viciously.

"You've made a mistake!" squeaked the abacus suddenly.

Calandra glared at it, but the abacus held firm. "Fourteen thousand six

hundred eighty-five add twenty-seven is not fourteen thousand six hundred

twelve. If s fourteen thousand seven hundred twelve. You've neglected to cany

the one."

"I'm surprised I can still reckon at all! See what you've done, Father?"

Calandra demanded.

• Lenthan appeared rather downcast for a moment, but he cheered up almost

immediately.

"It won't be long now," he said, rubbing his hands. "That last one lifted the

rocket above my head. I think I'm close to discovering the proper mixture.

I'll be in the laboratory, my (tears, if anyone needs me."

"That's likely!" muttered Calandra.

"Oh, ease up on the guvnor," said Paithan, watching with some amusement as the

elf wound his way vaguely around the assortment of fine furnishings to

disappear through a door at the back of the dining area. "Would you rather

have him the way he was after Mother died?"

"I'd rather have him sane, if that's what you mean, but I suppose thaf s too

much to ask! Between Thea's gallivanting and Papa's idiocy, we're the laughing

stock of the city."

*8» WEIS AND HICKMAN

"Don't worry, Sister dear. The people may snigger but, with you scooping up

the money of the Lords of Thillia, they do so behind their hands. Besides, if

the guvnor was sane he'd be back in the business."

"Humpf," snorted Calandra. "And don't use that slang talk. You know I can't

abide it: It's what comes of hanging around with that crowd of yours. Idle,

time-wasting bunch of—"

"Wrong!" informed the abacus. "It's supposed to be—"

"I'll do it!" Calandra frowned over her latest entry and irritably went back

to add up her figures again.

"Let that. . . that thing there do the work," suggested Paithan, motioning to

the abacus.

"I don't trust machines. Hush up!" Calandra snarled when her brother would

have spoken.

Paithan sat quietly for several moments, fanning himself and wondering if he

had the energy to call for the servant to bring him a fresh glass of

vindrech—one that didn't have plaster in it. But it was against the young

elf's nature to be silent for long.

"Speaking of Thea, where is she?" he asked, peering about as if he expected to

see her emerge from under one of the antimacassars.

"In bed, of course. It's not winetime yet," returned his sister, referring to

that period late in the cycle2 known as "storm" when all elves cease their

work and relax over a glass of spiced wine.

Paithan rocked. He was getting bored. Lord Durndrun was having a group over

for sailing on his treepond and a picnic supper after, and' if Paithan was

planning to attend it was high time he set about getting dressed and on his

way. Although not of noble birth, the young elf was rich enough, handsome

enough, and charming enough to make his way into the society of the gently

bred. He lacked the education of the nobility but was smart enough to admit it

and not try to pretend he was anything other than what he was—the son of a

middle-class businessman. The fact that his middle-class businessman father

happened to be

2Elven society in Equilan regulates time as follows: one hundred minutes to an

hour, twenty-one hours in a cycle, fifty cycles to a season, and five seasons

to a year. Time measurement varies from place to place on Pryan, according to

the local weather conditions. Unlike the planet Arianus, where there is day

and night, the sun never sets on Pryan.

&|ven Star »9*

(he wealthiest man in all of Equilan, wealthier even (so it was rumored) than

the queen herself, more than made up for Paithan's occasional lapses into

vulgarity.

The young elf was a good-hearted companion who spent his money freely and, as

one of the lords said, "He is an interesting devil—can tell the wildest tales

..."

Paithan's education came from the world, not from books. Knee his mother's

death, some eight years previous, and his father's subsequent descent into

madness and ill-health, Paithan and his elder sister had taken over the family

business. Calandra stayed at home and handled the monetary side of the

prosperous weapons company. Although the elves hadn't gone to war in more than

a hundred years, the humans were still fond of the practice and even fonder of

the magical elven weapons created to wage it. It was Paithan's job to go out

into the world, negotiate the deals, make certain that shipments were

delivered, and keep the customers happy.

Consequently, he had traveled over all the lands of Thillia and had once

ventured as far as the realm of the SeaKings to the norinth. Noble elves, on

the other hand, rarely left their estates high in the treetops. Many had never

been to the lower parts of Equilan, their own queendom. Paithan was,

therefore, looked upon as a marvelous oddity and was courted as such.

Paithan knew the lords and ladies kept him around much as they kept their pet

monkeys—to amuse them. He was not truly accepted into higher elven society. He

and his family were invited to the royal palace once a year—the queen's

concession to those who kept her coffers full—but that was all. None of which

bothered Paithan in the least.

The knowledge that elves who weren't half as smart or one-fourth as rich

looked down on the Quindiniars because they couldn't trace their family back

to the Plague rankled like an arrow wound in Calandra's breast. She had no use

for the "peerage" and made her disdain plain, at least to her younger brother.

And she was extremely put out that Paithan didn't share her feelings.

Paithan, however,, found the noble elves nearly as amusing as they found him.

He knew that if he proposed marriage to any one of ten dukes' daughters there

would be gasps and wailings and tears at the thought of the "dear child"

marrying a commoner—

.10* WEIS AND HICKMAN and the wedding would be held as fast as decently

possible. Noble houses, after all, are expensive to maintain.

The young elf had no intention of marrying, at least not yet. He came of an

exploring, wandering family—the very elven explorers who had discovered omite.

He had been home for nearly a full season now and it was time he was on his

way again, which was one reason he was sitting here with his sister when he

should be out rowing around some charming young woman in a scull. But

Calandra, absorbed in her calculations, appeared to have forgotten his very

existence. Paithan decided suddenly that if he heard one more bead click he

would go "potty"—a slang expression of "his crowd" that would have set

Calandra's teeth on edge,

Paithan had some news for his sister that he'd been saving for just such an

occasion. It would cause an explosion akin to the one that had rocked the

house previously, but it might shake Calandra loose and then he could escape.

"What do you think of Father's sending for that human priest?" he asked.

For the first time since he entered the room, his sister actually stopped her

calculations, lifted her head, and looked at him. "What?"

"Father's sending for the human priest. I thought you knew." Paithan blinked

rapidly, to appear innocent.

Calandra's dark eyes glinted. The thin lips pursed. Wiping the pen with

careful deliberation on an ink-stained cloth used expressly for this purpose,

she laid it down carefully in its proper place on the top of the ledger and

turned to give her hill attention to her brother.

Calandra had never been pretty. All the beauty in the family, it was said, had

been saved up and given to her younger sister. Cal was thin to the point of

boniness. (Paithan, when a child, had once been spanked for asking if his

sister's nose had been caught in a winepress.) Now, in her fading youth, it

appeared as if her entire face had been caught and pinched. She wore her hair

pulled back in a tight knot at the top of her head, held in place by three

lethal-looking, sharp-pointed combs. Her skin was dead white, because she

rarely went out of doors and then carried a parasol to protect her from the

sun. Her severe dresses were made after the same pattern—buttoned to her chin,

her

Star

11*

skirts trailing the floor. Calandra had never minded that she wasn't pretty.

Beauty was given a woman so that she could trap a man, and Cal had never

wanted a man.

"What are men, after all," Calandra was fond of saying, "but creatures who

spend your money and interfere in your life?"

All except me, thought Paithan. And thaf s because Calandra's brought me up

properly.

"I don't believe you," said his sister.

"Yes, you do." Paithan was enjoying himself. "You know the guv—sorry, slip of

the tongue—Father's crazy enough to do just about anything."

"How did you find out?"

"I popped—stopped in at old Rory's last suppertime for a quick one before

going to Lord—"

"I'm not interested in where you were going." A line had appeared in

Calandra's forehead. "You didn't hear this rumor •from old Rory, did you?"

" 'Fraid so, Sister dear. Our batty papa had been in the pub, talkin' about

his rockets and comes out with the news that he's sent for a human priest."

"In the pub!" Calandra's eyes widened in horror. "Were there . . . many who

heard him?"

"Oh, yes," said Paithan cheerfully. "It was his usual time, you know, right

during winetime and the place was packed."

Calandra emitted a low groan, her fingers curled around the frame of the

abacus, which protested loudly.

"Maybe he ... imagined it." Her tone sounded hopeless, however. Their father

was sometimes all too sane in his madness.

Paithan shook his head. "Nope. 1 talked to the birdman. His faultless3 carried

the message to Lord Gregory of Thillia. The note said that Lenthan Quindiniar

of Equilan wanted to consult with a human priest about travel to the stars.

Food and lodging provided and five hundred stones."4

3A winged fowl of the segrouse family used for long-distance communication. A

faultless, once properly trained, will fly unerringly between two points.

The medium of exchange of Equilan. It is a paper equivalent of stones, whkh

themselves are extremely rare, being found generally only at the very bottom

of the world.

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WEIS AND HICKMAN

Elve n Star

• 13*

Calandra groaned again. "We'll be besieged!" She gnawed

her lip.

"No, no, I don't think so." Paithan felt somewhat remorseful at being the

cause of such agony. He reached out and patted his sister's clenched hand. "We

may be lucky this time, Callie. Human priests live in monasteries and take

strict vows of poverty and such like. They couldn't accept the money. And they

have life pretty good in Thillia, not to mention the fact that they have a

strongly organized hierarchy. They're all answerable to some soft of father

superior, and one couldn't just pack up and head out for the wilds."

"But the chance to convert an elf—"

"Pooh! They're not like our priests. They haven't time to convert anybody.

They're mainly concerned with playing politics and trying to bring back the

Lost Lords."

"You're certain?" Calandra had regained some color in the pale cheeks.

"Well, not certain," Paithan admitted. "But I've been around humans a lot and

I know them. They don't like coming into our lands, for one thing. They don't

like us, for another. I don't think we have to worry about this priest turning

up."

"But why?" Calandra demanded. "Why would Papa do such a thing?"

"Because of the human belief that life came from the stars, which are really

and truly cities, and that someday, when our world here below is in chaos, the

Lost Lords will return and lead

us back."

"That's nonsense!" Calandra said crisply. "All know life came from Peytin

Sartan, Matriarch of Heaven, who created this world for her mortal children.

The stars are her immortal children, watching over us." She looked shocked,

the full implication dawning on her. "You don't mean to say that Father

actually believes this? Why that . . . that's heresy!"

"I think he's beginning to," said Paithan, more somberly. "It makes sense for

him, Callie, when you think about it. He was experimenting with using rockets

to transport goods before Mother died. Then, she leaves and our priests tell

him that Mother's gone to heaven to be one of the immortal children. His mind

slips one little cog and he lights on the idea of using rockets to go find

Mother. Now he misses the next cog and decides that

maybe she's not immortal but is living up there, safe and well, in some sort

of city."

"Blessed Orn!" Calandra groaned again. She sat silent for several moments,

staring at the abacus, her fingers twitching one of the beads back and forth,

back and forth. "I'll go talk to him," she said at last.

Paithan carefully kept his face under control. "Yes, that might be a good

idea, Callie. You go talk to him."

Calandra rose to her feet, her skirts rustling stiffly about her. She paused,

and looked down at her brother. "We were going to discuss this next shipment—"

"That can wait until tomorrow. This is much more important."

"Humpf. You needn't pretend to look so concerned. I know what you're up to,

Paithan. You'll be off on some scatter-brained outing with your fine friends

instead of staying home, minding your business as you ought. But you're right,

though you probably don't have brains enough to know it. This is more

important." A muffled explosion came from below, a crash of falling plates,

and a scream from the kitchen. Calandra sighed. "I'll go talk with him, though

I'm bound to say I doubt if it'll do much good. If I could just get him to

keep his mouth shut!"

She slammed down the ledger. Lips compressed, back straight as a bridgepole

tree, she marched in the direction of the door at the far end of the dining

area. Her hips were straight as her back; no alluring swaying of skirt for

Calandra Quindiniar.

Paithan shook his head. "Poor Guvnor," he said with a .moment's feeling of

true pity. Then, flipping the palm frond fan in the air, he went to his room

to get dressed.

Elven Star

*15*

CHAPTER » 2

EQUILAN, TREETOP LEVEL

DESCENDING THE STAIRS, CALANDRA PASSED THROUGH THE KITCHEN, located on the

first floor of the house. The heat increased noticeably as she moved from the

airy upper regions into the more closed and steamy lower part. The scullery

maid—eyes red rimmed and a mark on her face from the cook's broad hand—was

sullenly sweeping up broken crockery. The maid was an ugly human, as Calandra

had said, and the red eyes and swollen tip did nothing to enhance her

appearance.

But then Calandra considered all humans ugly and boorish, little more than

brutes and savages. The human girl was a slave, who had been purchased along

with a sack of flour and a stonewood cooking pot. She would work at the most

menial tasks under a stem taskmaster—the cook—for about fifteen of the

twenty-one-hour day. She would share a tiny room with the downstairs maid,

have no possessions of her own, and earn a pittance by which she might, by the

time she was an old woman, buy her way out of slavery. And yet Calandra firmly

believed that she had done the human a tremendous favor by bringing her to

live among civilized people.

Seeing the girl in her kitchen fanned the coals of Calandra's ire. A human

priest! What madness. Her father should have more sense. It was one thing to

be insane, quite another to abandon all sense of proper decorum. Calandra

marched through the pantry, yanked open the cellar door, and proceeded down

the cobwebby steps into the cool darkness below.

• 14*

The Quindiniar house was built on a moss plain that grew among the upper

levels of vegetation of the world of Pryan. The name Pryan meant Realm of Fire

in a language supposedly used by those first people who came to the world. The

nomenclature was appropriate, because Pryan's sun shone constantly. A more apt

name for the planet might have been "Realm of Green," for—due to the continual

sunshine and frequent rains—Pryan's ground was so thickly covered with

vegetation that few people currently living on the planet had ever seen it.

Huge moss plains spanned the branches of gigantic trees, whose trunks at the

base were sometimes wide as continents. Level after level of leaves and

various plant life extended upward, many levels existing on top of levels

beneath them. The moss was incredibly thick and strong; the large city of

Equilan was built on a moss bed. Lakes and even oceans floated on top of the

thick, brownish green mass. The topmost branches of the trees poked out above

it, forming tremendous, junglelike forests. It was here, in the treetops or on

the moss plains, that most civilizations on Pryan built their cities.

The moss plains didn't completely cover the world. They came to end in

frightful places known as dragonwalls. Few ventured near these chasms. Water

from the moss seas leapt over the edge and cascaded down into the darkness

Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - Deathgate Cycle 2 - Elven Star

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