Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [61]
She crawled into bed beside him, and he answered her.
Chapter Twenty
20 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning
Storms (1374 DR) Sentinelspire
When Lewan woke the next morning, he lay in bed with his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of Ulaan nestled in his arms. She was very warm, and he could smell a flowery scent in her hair. He enjoyed a moment of sheer contentment, of wonder almost, and then the realization of what he had done hit him. All his life with Berun, learning from his master, he had prepared for last night, for the Jalesh Rudra, when he would become a man and fully enter into communion with the Oak Father. But last night…
No, not just last night. Four days ago, his master had died, consumed by the very earth that he had held so sacred. Lewan had been unable to celebrate the Jalesh Rudra through no fault of his own. That choice had been taken from him. But did that excuse what he had done? He had sworn his life to the Oak Father-his spirit, his mind, and his body. Those who walked this sacred path swore an oath of chastity, of complete faithfulness to the divine, pledging themselves for the servants of the Oak Father alone. Last night was to have been the final consummation of that oath. Instead, he had chosen a different consummation.
Ulaan moaned softly in her sleep. She snuggled closer, and he felt the soft smoothness of her skin rubbing against his own, touching him in places that no other person had ever touched.
He opened his eyes, and Talieth was standing at the foot of the bed between the oak and holly. Lewan gasped. Talieth stood with her back straight, arms crossed under her breasts, looking down on Lewan and Ulaan. The green of her dress was just a shade darker than the leaves of the miniature oak.
"Dress yourself," she said. When Lewan showed no sign of obeying, her eyebrows rose slightly and her chin jutted out. "Now."
Lewan scrambled out of bed, too frightened to even care about his nakedness. Ulaan moaned softly in her sleep, turned over, and lay still.
"I-" Lewan began, but Talieth cut him off.
"I said dress yourself." She kept her voice low, though Lewan could not believe it was out of concern for the girl's slumber. "We will speak on the way."
Someone had brought fresh clothes for both him and Ulaan. Who could have-?
Talieth walked across the room, sparing him a sidelong glance, and placed one hand on the doorknob. Quick as he could, Lewan pulled on the fresh clothes-loose-fitting linen trousers, a shirt of black silk, soft fur-lined boots, and a robe with a deep hood. The robe was well crafted, but of plain soft wool and unadorned. It seemed entirely out of place over such finery. When he was finished, Talieth looked him over, gave a curt nod, then led him out of the room.
It was the first time he'd seen the hallway. The walls and ceiling were crafted of the same stone as his room, but black tiles so smooth that they reflected the lamplight covered the floor. The hall wound round the inside of the tower. Doors lined either side at regular intervals.
"Follow me," said Talieth, and she started walking.
Lewan scrambled to keep up. "Lady, I, uh… that is-"
"Is this about the girl?"
"Y-yes."
"Put it out of your mind," said Talieth. "Ulaan was sent to serve your needs. Judging from what I saw, she is doing so. But if she displeased you, we'll find you another."
Lewan opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he had no idea what to say-and that Talieth was leaving him. So he simply followed her down the hallway.
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Talieth led him down a long series of stairs winding around the inside of the tower. In a large hall at the base of the tower, she stopped before two massive doors and pulled a heavy cloak and hood of dark green velvet off a rack beside the door. She turned and faced Lewan as she put them on. "Pull up your hood," she said.
Lewan obeyed her, but managed a hesitant, "Why, lady?"
"Remember our words yesterday, Lewan," Talieth said, her voice low. "You walk in the midst of conspiracy. In this tower, you are safe enough. There are not many here,