Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [26]
There were two exceptions. Broglan of the war wizards looked even more worried than usual-genuine concern, she judged. And the elderly steward of the hall was aghast. Black beard and mustache trembling in his haste, he swept a cloth off a bare section of the serving table, and hurried toward her, raising it like a shield.
Storm thanked him with a smile. He reached gabbled out mortified apologies-as if what had befallen her was his fault-and whipped the cloth around her as an improvised gown. What was his name, now? The seneschal had rattled it off, complete with a list of the battles the old man had fought in, in his days as a Purple Dragon… Ah, yes: Ilgreth. Ilgreth…Drimmer.
"My thanks for your swift-witted kindness, Storm told the old man, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, "but I prefer garments a trifle less drafty. Perhaps you'll conduct me to my room?"
Drimmer nodded almost, beseechingly. He waved at her to accompany him, and then turned and scurried away. Storm fallowed, staring thoughtfully at his back. He'd flinched at her touch… but then, that was understandable when he'd just seen flames roaring up around her. Who knew what might have burst from her fingers?
A few paces away from the table she turned, favored all of the guests with a broad, easy smile, and said, "Save me some wine-I'll be back!"
Then she turned her back on them all, tore off the tablecloth and swung it over her shoulder like a shawl, and strode away in Ilgreth Drimmer's wake.
He hastened to one dais, turned at its doors, and gulped at her fashion rearrangement. "If you'll follow me, gracious lady," he said faintly, whirling back to face the door, "your chambers are this way…
The route he led her along was a long one, but Storm trailed him for only three passages and two rooms before she caught up with him, laid a firm hand on his shoulder, and said, "Catch your breath, good steward, and talk to me."
Ilgreth slid frightened eyes around to meet hers, with a puff of ash, a strip of blackened gown fell away from her shoulders. He quickly looked away again.
“Talk? What about?”
“Lord Athlan’s death-and anything untoward that’s befallen since,” Storm said crisply, ignoring the ongoing ruin of her gown. Another scrap drifted away from the still-sturdy cuff about her left wrist.
“I-I don’t kinow where I stand, Lady,” the steward replied frankly.” How far will what I tell you travel?”
“Do you mean, will I reveal that you told me things?” Storm asked, eye to eye. He nodded, and she said firmly, “Not at all. I heard nothing from you except: “This rooms is yours, lady.’”
His face split in a sudden grin, and his eyes dipped involuntarily to survey her smooth curves-which made him blush and the smile hastily vanish again.
Storm laughed merrily and said,"Look all you want! I'm not ashamed of this body-but it still amazes me how many men are!"
That make him look quickly away again and sputter through his mustache, "Have done, please, lady. We're almost at a guard post."
Storm sighed, wove the tablecloth around herself, and assumed a stately stride at his heels. He slowed, matching her mood. They swept past the startled guards in silence. They were two rooms beyond, at the midpoint of a long hall lined with statues, when he spoke again.
There have always been deaths in the keep," he muttered abruptly, so that Storm had to bend forward over his shoulder to hear. "Mainly among us-the servants, I mean-and always in the Haunted Tower. Warnings to us, to keep out. Once it was a chambermaid and a hostler who'd gone there together, if you take my meaning. They were found by the daily guard patrol, lying in each other's arms-headless."
He walked on a few more paces for emphasis before adding, "We never found the heads."
They passed through another door and turned mm down the hall beyond. Drimmer looked cautiously up and down it before