was dull and unfocused in his mind's eye, he could still see it, like a fading dream, and he held on to that last fleeting image. He would not apologize.
Talieth turned to him. 'We must make things clear between us, you and I,' she said. 'Clear, my lady?'
Her jaw clenched for a moment. 'Yes, clear,' she said. 'We are a proud people here at Sentinelspire, and whether you know or respect our code of conduct and honor, I assure you we do have one. This fortress is the pride and envy of the East and West-among those few fortunate enough to have seen it and lived. But we are not like the societies of the pampered sultans or simpering kings. Every person here must contribute something. We have no layabouts. Your task is to unlock the secrets of this relic.' She held Erael'len up in her fist and shook it at him. 'As long as you agree, as long as you contribute-and I do expect results-you will be our most honored guest in the fortress. You will be clothed in the finest clothes, fed the finest foods, bathed and oiled, you will sleep in a soft bed with the company of Ulaan or as many women as you choose. But you will help us.'
'Or what?' said Lewan, and he was proud that his voice didn't tremble, for his heart was beating double-time under Talieth's imperious gaze. He expected her to say, Or you'll find out what we do in that charnel room up the hall, or Sauk will let that tiger hunt you in the grounds, or I'll have you dragged to the top of the tallest tower and thrown off, or any number of threats.
But she said none of those things. Instead she looked at him and said, 'Or I'll see that you're given the best traveling clothes we have, as many supplies as you can carry, weapons of your choosing, and I'll have you taken out the gates and down the mountain. You can go wherever you like. And in a few days' time, or a tenday, or perhaps even a month if the gods smile upon us, when Sentinelspire explodes and shatters the land for a hundred miles, when a cloud of dust and ash and fire covers half the known world, choking babes in their sleep, killing wild beasts and livestock, and strangling sunlight from this season's crops-and very likely next season's as well-if you're far enough away to escape that… well, then, I guess you can live the rest of your life knowing that you could have helped prevent it. Once the fires have died, the earth cooled, and the ash blown away, you can even come to the great hole in the ground where once we lived, and you can dance on the place where we died. Where Ulaan died. Is that what you want, Lewan?'
Chapter Twenty-One
25 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374DR) Sentinelspire
Lewan sat on the edge of the bed to put on the soft doeskin boots. As he did so, he enjoyed the sight of Ulaan, standing before the open balcony doors in the morning breeze, the light curtains fluttering about her. She had her arms over her head as she put the last of the… things in her hair. Lewan couldn't remember what she'd called them-pointed rods of flexible wood encased in black lacquer. She'd done her hair up in some sort of topknot of intricate braids, all bound in gold ribbon.
'Gaasur,' she said. 'What?'
'The pins for my hair. They are called gaasur.' 'How… did you…?'
She smiled a very happy smile and said, 'I saw you watching me, and you had that look you get when you are thinking your deep thoughts.'
'Deep thoughts?' Lewan chuckled.
Finished with her hair, she lowered her arms, considered a moment, then said, 'I like it when you watch me, Lewan. I…'
He waited for her to finish. When she didn't, he said, 'What?'
'I am glad I was told to serve you.'
Serve me? Lewan scowled, the moment ruined, for it reminded him exactly what Ulaan was.
'Ulaan, how long have you lived here? In the Fortress?'
'Ten years,' she said. Her smile melted. 'Since I was sold to the Lady Talieth in Almorel.'
Ten years. Twice as long as Lewan had been with Berun.
'Your parents…?'
'My mother was a servant of a wealthy merchant who trades along the Golden Way. My father might have been the merchant. Or he might have been any number of guests whom my mother… served.'
Lewan could see the wariness in her eyes, but he had to know. 'How many… others-other men-have you… served?'
He saw her instant of shock, then she turned her back to him. When she spoke, anger as well as hurt were in her voice. 'I am a servant here, Master. I do as I am told. If that displeases you, you may send for another.'
'Stop saying that!'
'What, Master?'
'Stop calling me master!' said Lewan, anger rising in his voice. 'And stop telling me that I can have another…' 'Another what? Another whore?' 'I didn't say that.' 'You were thinking it.'
Lewan growled and looked away, staring at the wall but not seeing it.
'Lewan?' The anger had gone from her voice. The hurt was still there, but there was something else as well- hope?
He looked to her again and saw that she had turned halfway round. Her back was straight, her head held high, her jaw out, the very picture of a woman in control of her emotions. But she balled her hands into tight fists, and he could see them trembling.
'What?' he said.
'You… you are not like… the others.' She stopped, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. 'When you look at me, when you touch me, when we…' She opened her eyes and looked right at him. He could see the sparkle of unshed tears. 'Do you love me, Lewan?'
Lewan blinked. 'I-'
Mark Sehestedt
Sentinelspire
A knock at the door-three sharp raps-then it opened and into the room stepped Talieth, dressed in a long, loose skirt and a sleeveless bodice that seemed to have been crafted from thousands of tiny links of red copper and laid over sheer red silk. A circlet made of the same material crowned her head, and dozens of rings and jewels bound her hair in a score of braids. Thick gold bracelets ringed her arms at each wrist and elbow. From head to toe she seemed the perfect image of a warrior queen.
Ulaan turned toward the Lady Talieth and dropped to a bow from which she did not rise.
Talieth spared both Ulaan and Lewan a quick glance, then looked at Lewan with a raised eyebrow and an upward curl of the corner of her mouth. 'So nice to see you both dressed this time.'
Lewan stood and faced her. 'So nice of you to knock this time.'
Talieth speared Lewan with her gaze. 'Get into your robe and get the hood up,' she said. 'Time for today's studies.'
Beneath the Dome of Fire in the private study, Talieth shut the door behind her and looked at Lewan.
'It's been five days, and you have unlocked none of the relic's secrets. Its power still sleeps. Explain yourself.'
Lewan glanced over his shoulder to where Erael'len lay atop a linen cloth on the table, then focused his gaze on Talieth's chin. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet her gaze. 'I am trying, my lady.'
'You felt the tremor last night? Or was your attention elsewhere?'
'I felt it.'
The metal lattice of her bodice and circlet made a soft tinkling sound as she approached Lewan. She stopped an arm's length away. He could smell a scent of cinnamon and some other spice wafting from her. 'Sentinelspire is stirring, Lewan. And the Old Man is doing his best to wake her. Time is precious.'
Lewan swallowed and took a deep breath. 'I know, lady. I am trying. Erael'len sleeps as well, and so fat, I can do nothing to wake it. However…'
'I have no time to for your dissimulations, Lewan. Speak.'
Lewan's brow wrinkled. He had no idea what dissimulations meant.
