Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [46]
Green grew over everything-climbing buildings, winding through the streets, ringing towers. In places it was hard to see the stone. Blossoms were everywhere as spring took hold. Their sweet smell mingled with the crisp scent of the high mountain air and the loamy aroma of the greenery.
A large waterfall fell over the western canyon wall to feed a great pool, out of which flowed dozens of waterways that wound throughout the fortress. Lewan counted no less than eight fountains within the fortress, and he thought he could even see the sparkle of water on the roof of the great tower. How could water flow up so high? People lounged by some of the fountains-men in robes or loose-fitting garb, women in colors to rival the flowers and blossoms.
And over all this-buildings, towers, statues on pedestals, the great dome near the western canyon wall-flew birds of every color. Black ravens, white doves, and songbirds ranging from deepest blue to brightest yellow and every shade between. Lewan, who had lived most of his life in the wild and could name every bird of the Amber Steppes and Shalhoond in at least two languages, had never seen at least a dozen of these birds.
Lewan had never really considered the meaning of the word paradise. But standing there in the late morning air, clean and dressed in the loose-fitting linen clothes Ulaan had brought him, he knew that he could not imagine anything more fitting than the scene before him. This was paradise.
But then his master's voice rose up in his memory. Sentinelspire… you don't know that place. It's… hard to see clearly there. Sentinelspire is a realm built on blood. Murder. I don't want you anywhere near that place.
How could his master have been so wrong?
Lewan winced at the thought. The bright mood that had grown in him darkened. He could still remember a great shambling mound of earth and mud rising, almost in the shape of a man, and burying his master. Had it been real? Or part of a dream brought on by the poison in his veins?
Ulaan had been unable to tell him, only said that all would be made clear in time and that he should not leave his room.
He heard the door to his room open, then footsteps. He walked back through the double doors of his balcony and through the filmy curtains fluttering in the morning breeze.
Ulaan had returned, bearing a large platter of food and drink. Behind her, coming into the room, was the most striking woman Lewan had ever seen. She stood a bit taller than Lewan, and she walked with the bearing of a queen. Her black hair hung in dozens of braids well past her waist, and tiny rings of gold and jewels sparkled among them. A circlet of fine chain ringed her head, and tiny rubies dangled from finer chains on her forehead. Her dress, fitted tightly from wrist to neck and down her torso, flowed out in a loose skirt beneath her waist. Tiny red jewels were sewn into the seams, complementing the silky fabric that flowed between deepest red and the warm yellow of a dusty-sky sunset. Her skin was darker than Lewan's, but where his was weathered from years of sun, wind, and rain, hers was flawless and smooth. Her dark eyes looked out beneath sharp eyebrows, arched in what was something between amusement and offense. With dawning horror, Lewan realized he'd been staring. No, not staring. Gawking.
He snapped his mouth shut, averted his eyes, and bowed.
Ulaan set the platter on the table by his bedside, bowed to them both, and fled the room, closing the door behind her.
"I am Talieth, Lady of the Fortress," said the woman.
Talieth. He'd heard that name before, when Sauk's men had dragged him into the camp. The half-orc had tried to calm his master by saying, Talieth will explain everything when we get to the Fortress.
"Please take your eyes off the floor," said the woman.
Lewan obeyed, but he could find nowhere to look. He could not hold the woman's gaze, and anything lower than her face put him in even more dangerous territory. She had ordered him to look up, so he settled for a spot just over her left