Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [51]
Lewan shrugged.
"Your master never spoke of him? You never heard whispered tales round the campfire or in some bard's tale in a tavern?"
"I've never been in a tavern."
Talieth tilted her head to one side. "Really? Why is that?"
"My master disapproved of cities. He said that anything bigger than a village made him… itch. I've been to Almorel a handful of times. But never for more than a day, and we never stayed the night."
Talieth looked away, seemingly lost in thought. Confused, almost. But then she shook her head and said, "No matter. So you have never heard of the Old Man of the Mountain?"
"Never, lady. That is… not until…"
"Until when?"
"Walking through the Shalhoond with Sauk and his men. The half-orc told me of the Old Man of the Mountain. He said that my master had once been known as Kheil, that he worked for the Old Man."
"As an assassin," said Talieth.
"I… I didn't believe Sauk then."
"And now?"
A tiny voice in the back of Lewan's mind warned him to say nothing, to plead ignorance. But what could it hurt? Sauk knew the truth already. If he and Talieth both served this Old Man, surely she knew as well.
"The night after we… after escaping Sauk and his men, my master told me the truth." "And you believed him?" "Of course."
"Good," said Talieth. "Then this will make the rest of my tale easier. You know your master once served Alaodin, the Old Man of the Mountain, as an assassin. What you might not know is that Alaodin is my father, and he has gone completely mad."
"Mad?"
"Oh, he's not gibbering and drooling and talking to the walls." Talieth's brow knotted up, and her attention seemed focused entirely inward, a mixture of sorrow and contemplation. "Suffice to say he was not born into the exalted position he holds. My father grew up hard. Early life for him was not so much living as surviving, and he did not have the benefit of a master who loved him."
A master who loved him. A sob rose in the back of Lewan's throat, but he took a deep breath and choked it down. Ignoring his trembling hands, he poured himself more water and took a long drink while Talierh gathered her thoughts.
"My father learned that to survive-and later, to protect those he loved-required power. No matter how rich, powerful, and influential he became, he never forgot the hard lessons of his childhood. They… haunted him. And perhaps he was not as careful as he should have been in where he sought power. He became a devoted servant of Bhaal, and when his god died… I think that was the beginning of my father's madness."
Lewan thought that anyone who would willingly serve Bhaal was well on their way to madness already, but he held his tongue.
"The death of his god reawakened something my father had not known in many years," said Talieth. "Desperation. And fear. He began seeking new paths to power-lore, relics, allies. Although I cannot be certain, I believe it was during this time that my father first came into contact with your master's master, Chereth."
"Chereth would have never allied himself with assassins!" said Lewan. He looked up and forced himself to hold Talieth's gaze.
If anything, she seemed amused by his effrontery. "I thought you said you never knew Chereth?"
"My master spoke of him often. He-"
"And your master never hid anything from you?" said Talieth, her voice sharp. "Never, perhaps, chose to withhold certain truths in order to protect you from… harsh realities?"
Lewan held his glare a few moments longer before dropping his eyes to his half-eaten meal.
"In truth," Talieth continued, "I could be wrong on this point. I don't know when my father first had dealings with Chereth. And it's entirely possible that Chereth never told your master of this. You Oak Children do seem rather adept at keeping secrets from one another. But I do know that they…" She thought a moment. "… crossed purposes."
Rather adept at keeping secrets from one another. That stung. Mostly because Lewan knew it to be true. How could his master have hidden so much from him? And why? Did he not trust him? Did he think him some fragile