Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [64]
He was near the wall, his eyes following the track of flame, when the channel ended at a doorway. Although the entrance had a thick wooden door on four stout iron hinges, the door was open. Inside, the room was dark, and the light from the channels of flame in the hall only penetrated a few feet inside the room. As they passed, Lewan could see no more than a bare stone floor, covered in dust and grit. But the smell emanating from the room was unmistakable. Blood and charnel. A hunter for most of his life, Lewan had seen countless animals butchered. In the villages and settlements in the Amber Steppes, he'd seen entire pens devoted to slaughter, the blood and offal drenching the grass and forming a putrid mud. This smell was worse. Lewan recoiled, almost trampling the hem of Talieth's skirt in front of him, and his gorge rose. For the first time since waking, he was glad of his empty stomach. This was the stench of slow death and rot.
Grimacing, Lewan swallowed bile and looked to Talieth for explanation. She kept walking, not even turning, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"What… was that?" Lewan's voice was hoarse and raw. His throat burned from the bile.
"Put it out of your mind," said Talieth, not turning or slowing her pace. "You have other concerns now."
They passed three more doors-two on the left and one on the right. Thankfully, these were shut tight, but as they passed the second, Lewan thought he heard a faint sniffling from behind the door, like the ragged end of weeping or someone breathing during the final stages of a long sickness. But the steady hiss of the flames drowned it out after they passed.
The hallway curved again, always to the right. They passed a large passageway with more stairs leading down, and not far beyond, they reached another door. Talieth lifted the black iron latch, the door swung forward on noiseless hinges, and she entered.
Lewan hesitated in the doorway, but the room before him was nothing like the one he'd passed earlier. It was opulent. The room was bigger than most houses he'd seen in his lifetime, though the ceiling was low. Heavy drapes covered the walls, alternating with several bookshelves, each of which was filled with scrolls and thick tomes. Soft couches rested upon thick rugs. Thick white candles burned in sconces on the wall and on pedestals throughout the room. In the middle of the far wall, a fire burned in a hearth so large that Lewan could have stood inside it. A brass brazier hung from a chain over the flames, and something inside bubbled, filling the room with a spicy scent. In the middle of the room, sitting upon a thick rug that looked as if it had been taken from a sultan's palace, was a plain table, four plain chairs set around it.
"This is my private study." Talieth stood just inside the room. "Enter and be welcome."
Lewan stepped inside, his footsteps soundless on the deep rug. Talieth shut the door behind him and walked to the table, where she turned and leaned against it to regard him with that predator's gaze.
"Please, sit wherever you like."
Lewan looked around, eyeing the plain wooden chairs and the soft, cushioned couches. Time to test this predator's mettle, he thought. He sat on the rug with his back firmly against the door.
Talieth's left eyebrow shot up, and one corner of her mouth followed it in an amused smile. "Comfortable?" "Yes, my lady."
With both hands Talieth reached behind her neck and pulled a necklace of braided leather over her head. Erael'len emerged from the front of her dress.
"You remember of what we spoke yesterday?"
"Yes, my lady."
Talieth looked at him, her eyebrows rising a little more with each moment that he didn't speak. Finally, she said, "Lewan?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Are you going to be difficult?" "Difficult, my lady?"
" 'Difficult, my lady,' " she repeated in a flat tone. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, Erael'len dangling from one hand. "It's been so long since I've had to deal with a man your age, I'd forgotten how difficult you can be."
"My lady?"