friendly. Probably neighbors paying a social call; after all, Dworkin hadn't been here in years. Wouldn't everyone want to stop by, say hello, and catch up on all the gossip for old times' sake? That must be it. As host, Aber couldn't get away. Nor would he want to let them know about my illness. We couldn't reveal our weaknesses to anyone here.
A long silence stretched. The wind rose slightly. I picked at the crumbs on my plate, gulped the dregs of the cider, and waited impatiently. Doing nothing had always been hard for me. The chair creaked slightly as I shifted. Not so much as a whisper came from the outside.
It had been at least half an hour. Aber wouldn't have left me here this long unless something had happened. Who were these mysterious visitors? What did they want?
I heard a crash like that of breaking glass, fairly close, and stood. Guests didn't go around breaking windows. Something was definitely wrong.
It couldn't hurt to take a look outside. After all, nobody had told me I
Bracing myself against the arms of the chair, I rose. The room wobbled a bit, but steadied when I remained motionless for a couple of heartbeats. Where was my swordbelt? There—hanging on a peg to the left of the door.
Half walking, half gliding across the shifting floor, I made my way safely to the other side, took my swordbelt down, and fastened it around my waist. The calm before battle settled over me. If I was to die, I would die like a man, with a blade in hand. My sword's cool silvered hilt felt comfortable and reassuring as I rested my palm upon it.
And then everything suddenly began to tilt to the left; I braced myself against the wall and pressed my eyes shut.
Like an old man, I eased my way over to the door, straining to hear over the dull distant rush of wind. For a second I thought I heard angry voices, but couldn't be certain.
Lifting the latch, I pulled the door open smoothly. Good; Aber hadn't barred it from outside. Clearly he didn't think I'd be foolish enough to go exploring on my own.
I carefully peeked out into a long stone corridor that seemed to be oozing reds and browns. As with my room, all the angles seemed wrong. Doors opened at irregular intervals on both sides, with what might have been oil lamps burning in sconces every few feet between. Light dribbled in faint golden trails toward the ceiling, where it pooled.
My head swam as I tried to take it in. Aber and my father seemed to have no trouble walking around; what was their trick? Perhaps it had something to do with the Logrus. I felt a rising sense of depression; I didn't think I'd ever get used to this place.
Thankfully, no hordes of hell-creatures rushed to attack me. In fact, I saw no one at all. If that bell had signaled the arrival of guests, they were still downstairs. I listened for a long time, but heard nothing—no banging, no breaking glass, no angry voices. Had I imagined them? I didn't think so, but in this place, I really couldn't be sure.
While the floor tried to push me into the wall, I braced myself and waited for my sense of balance to return. It did, but slowly.
This place was insane. The sooner we left, the better off we would be. I didn't see how I could possibly help anyone here.
The hallway appeared to dead-end thirty or so feet to the right, which meant Aber must have turned left. The passage curved out of sight in that direction.
I hesitated. I needed a plan. What exactly did I hope to accomplish with this little expedition? Did I want to check on Aber and these mysterious visitors?
No, not yet. If my brother had run into trouble, I was in no condition to help him. In fact, I'd probably make things worse by needing rescue myself. And if—as I half suspected—some of our neighbors had dropped in, I did not want to reveal my weakness to them. Better to let everyone wonder what had become of me.
The thing to do was reconnoiter. I wouldn't go far; no sense in getting lost. Perhaps I could find my father's rooms… there might be something there that could help me.
Keeping one hand on the wall, I turned—and found myself face to face with one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I took a deep breath. Her black hair shimmered with bluish highlights. Her eyes held the honeyed color of molten gold. Her skin, pale as milk, held the faintest of blushes at her cheeks—save for a small beauty mark on the left. From her high, finely drawn cheekbones to her delicate chin to the sensuous fullness of her deep red lips, I had never seen anyone like her.
Where had she come from? One of the other rooms on this floor?
“Hello!” I said.
She looked startled for a second, then dropped her gaze to the floor and curtsied. “You are… Lord Oberon?”
“Yes.” From her demeanor, she had to be a servant. I felt a pang of disappointment. “And you?”
“Rhalla, my lord.”
“Do you know what that bell was about?” I asked.
“Bell?”
“Didn't you hear it?” I said.
“No, my lord.”
“It sounded not long ago—maybe fifteen minutes.”
“I did not hear it, my lord. Perhaps it happened when I was in the wine cellar.”
“So you were just downstairs?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Are there any… problems down there?”
She looked at me strangely. “Problems, my lord?”
“Yes—I heard some odd noises.”
She shook her head. “No, my lord. Everything is fine.”
That was good news. I allowed myself to relax a bit and glanced over my shoulder. Still no sign of Aber, though… probably stuck playing the genial host. For once, I welcomed his absence. Something about Rhalla fascinated me. I could have spent the rest of the day looking at her.
She went on, “You are wet, my lord. Do you need dry clothing? I am sure something can be found—”
“That's all right,” I said with a chuckle and a half shrug. “I'll dry soon enough. Right now, I'm having trouble finding my way around—” A sudden wave of giddiness washed over me. Against my will, I staggered half a step, startling her. I caught myself against the wall, thinking I must look like a clumsy idiot.
“Are you ill, my lord?” she asked.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide my weakness. I wanted her to see me as I saw myself—tall, strong, brave. Not a cripple who couldn't walk ten paces without falling down.
“A bit dizzy, is all,” I said. “I was sick, but I'm over the worse of it.”
“Here. Let me help you.”
She leaned forward to assist me, hand poised, and I caught her scent—a light, sweet musk. The hallway began to spin slowly around me. I breathed her in, deeply, my heart racing. I tried to stay calm.
“Which way,” I said in as smooth a voice as I could manage, “are my father's rooms?”
“Lord Dworkin's?” Her gaze flicked up to my face for a second, and I saw mild surprise there. “Two floors above us, my lord.”
“Show me the way.”
“It is forbidden—”
The floor shifted unexpectedly under my feet, and I staggered again in the other direction, catching my balance on her shoulder.
Her muscles tensed and quivered beneath me, shifting like liquid beneath her skin. It was a very strange sensation, unlike anything I had felt before. It made me regard her more carefully. She
“Is something wrong, Lord?” she asked.
