Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [112]
The two walkers stood in front of him, the third still hanging from the ceiling, all watching him, expressing neither malice nor compassion. Merely curiosity. The one on Berun's left reached out and plucked the knife from his hand. Holding it with both hands, he closed his eyes, brought the knife just under his nose, and inhaled, like a nobleman testing the bouquet of a fine wine. As he did so, the fine etchings of vines and leaves that ran along the blade glinted green, then faded to a glow, almost as if a spark had lit in dry leaves before fading to an ember.
The creature opened his eyes and smiled at Berun. But there was no humor or goodwill in the smile, merely a drawing back of the lips over teeth that were pointed and sharp. Quick as a scorpion's tail, the creature's hand flicked out with the dagger, drawing a shallow gash across Berun's cheek. Berun winced and tried to pull away, but the vines held him fast. The creature reached out with one finger, wiped a bit of the blood, then brought the redness to his tongue. His companion stepped forward and did the same, but the one on the ceiling only watched.
"What are you?" Berun asked.
The one holding the knife cocked his head at Berun, but did not reply.
"They are called killoren," came a voice from the darkness. A voice Berun recognized.
Berun heard the sound of footsteps along the leafy floor, and a figure emerged from the shadows. A cloaked figure in a deep hood. In the dimness of the hall, the fabric seemed dark as winter pine needles.
"Ashai!" said the three creatures. The two standing drew back from Berun, and the one on the ceiling dropped to the floor. All three bowed.
The figure ignored them and stood before Berun. Two hands emerged from the folds of the cloak and pulled down the hood, revealing a wizened face, hardened by the years, but still the face Berun knew.
"Welcome to my tower, Berun," said Chereth. "I have missed you, my son."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lewan ran, his bare feet slapping the brick pavement and splashing through puddles. The paths through the fortress were dark, many of the braziers and torches having been drowned out by the rain. The worst of the storm had blown over, fading to a steady drizzle. Running through a garden, a contingent of guards ordered him to stop, but he only slowed, yelling, "The Lady Talieth and Sauk are trapped in the courtyard of the Tower of the Sun! I'm going for help," and he ran on, hoping that the guards did not follow him.
They didn't, and Lewan ran on, though he did not go to the main gate as his master had commanded. Instead, he ran back to the tower where he'd been staying. He took the front steps three at a time, threw open the doors, and continued up the inner stairs and down the hall to his room.
The door was locked. "Ulaan! Ulaan, it's me, Lewan. Let me in."
He heard her work the locks, then the door opened. She stepped out and embraced him. "Oh, Lewan, what happened? You're drenched! I was so worried."
Lewan pushed past her. "Do I have any dry clothes?"
"Yes," she said, closing the door behind her. "Why?"
"We're leaving. Tonight. Now. Where are the clothes?"
"On the hearthstone," she said. "Leaving? Lewan, I don't understand. The Lady Talieth-"
"Is in no position to stop us. It's now or not at all. Do you have a key to get past the guardians in the tunnels?"
"A key?" Ulaan shook her head. "No, I-"
"No matter," said Lewan as he stripped off his wet clothes. He tossed them aside and began to pull on the dry clothes. He looked at Ulaan, still dressed in the robes of a serving girl. "Can you find yourself something more suited for