Sentinelspire (40 page)

“What are you?” Berun asked.

The one holding the knife cocked his head at Berun, but did not reply.

“They are called killoren,” came a voice from the darkness. A voice Berun recognized.

Berun heard the sound of footsteps along the leafy floor, and a figure emerged from the shadows. A cloaked figure in a deep hood. In the dimness of the hall, the fabric seemed dark as winter pine needles.

“Ashai!”
said the three creatures. The two standing drew back from Berun, and the one on the ceiling dropped to the floor. All three bowed.

The figure ignored them and stood before Berun. Two hands emerged from the folds of the cloak and pulled down the hood, revealing a wizened face, hardened by the years, but still the face Berun knew.

“Welcome to my tower, Berun,” said Chereth. “I have missed you, my son.”

L
ewan ran, his bare feet slapping the brick pavement and splashing through puddles. The paths through the fortress were dark, many of the braziers and torches having been drowned out by the rain. The worst of the storm had blown over, fading to a steady drizzle. Running through a garden, a contingent of guards ordered him to stop, but he only slowed, yelling, “The Lady Talieth and Sauk are trapped in the courtyard of the Tower of the Sun! I’m going for help,” and he ran on, hoping that the guards did not follow him.

They didn’t, and Lewan ran on, though he did not go to the main gate as his master had commanded. Instead, he ran back to the tower where he’d been staying. He took the front steps three at a time, threw open the doors, and continued up the inner stairs and down the hall to his room.

The door was locked. “Ulaan! Ulaan, it’s me, Lewan. Let me in.”

He heard her work the locks, then the door opened. She stepped out and embraced him. “Oh, Lewan, what happened? You’re drenched! I was so worried.”

Lewan pushed past her. “Do I have any dry clothes?”

“Yes,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Why?”

“We’re leaving. Tonight. Now. Where are the clothes?”

“On the hearthstone,” she said. “Leaving? Lewan, I don’t understand. The Lady Talieth—”

“Is in no position to stop us. It’s now or not at all. Do you have a key to get past the guardians in the tunnels?”

“A key?” Ulaan shook her head. “No, I—”

“No matter,” said Lewan as he stripped off his wet clothes. He tossed them aside and began to pull on the dry clothes. He looked at Ulaan, still dressed in the robes of a serving girl. “Can you find yourself something more suited for traveling?”

“I have nothing.”

“Then find something suited for me. You can wear it. Quickly.”

“But the Lady Talieth—”

“I promise you, Ulaan, she is in no position to stop us right now. But we must hurry. Now go and find yourself some traveling clothes. And try to get us both a cloak. Something heavy to keep out the rain. Now, Ulaan. Go!”

Although fear filled Ulaan’s eyes and he could see her hands trembling, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Lewan pulled on the last of the dry clothes and put the hammer Berun had given him through his belt. It was heavy, but he felt better having it there. His master’s bow was still propped in the corner, wrapped in the rough canvas in which Sauk had given it to him. Lewan had checked it earlier. The bow’s string was still good, but he had no arrows.

He was lacing up his boots and considering whether to take the bedclothes with them—they’d need blankets out on the steppe—when the door opened. A figure walked in, and at first glance Lewan thought that he’d waited too long, that one of Talieth’s blades had come for him.

“It’s me,” said Ulaan. She was dressed much like Lewan in plain breeches, boots, a loose shirt, and a long vest, over which she wore a heavy cloak with a deep cowl. She had another wadded in her arms. She shut the door behind her and lowered the cowl. Her skin was pale and her eyes wide. “Lewan, 
if we are caught escaping”—she swallowed and took a deep breath—“I will be killed. You? I don’t know. Perhaps. Perhaps not. After tonight … I don’t know.”

Lewan stood and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, much as Berun had done to him not long ago. “Ulaan, if we don’t get away, it’s only a matter of time before we’re dead anyway. And not much time, I think. We’ll need to go far and fast.” He paused a moment and made sure he had her gaze, then said, “You do want to come with me, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“You’d rather risk staying here … a slave?”

She stepped closer and embraced him. “I don’t know what to think. I’m so scared. But I trust you.”

He held her, one arm across her shoulders, the other round her waist. “Then let’s go. We must do one thing first.”

He tried to step away but she held him tight. “What?”

“We need to get through the tunnels and past the guardians. I … I need to look for one of the men my master killed.”

She looked up at him, and behind her eyes he could see her emotions warring.

“What is it?” he asked.

Ulaan swallowed and looked away. “That won’t be necessary.”

“What? I don’t understand. We must have a key to get past the guardians. I need—”

“You don’t. I can get us past the guardians.”

Lewan tensed. “Is … is there something you want to tell me?”

“Later,” she said. “When we’re far away from here.”

They followed the same path Lewan had taken with Talieth days before. The rain had stopped, but the clouds
still hung low over Sentinelspire, and the few lamps that remained lit could not cast their light far in the mists that drifted along the pathways between the buildings. Just past the elegant buildings with the brass pillars—ahead, Lewan could see the hedge marking the garden where the assassins had been dismembered the night of the
Jalesh Rudra
—four men stepped from behind the corner of the building and blocked the path. All were cloaked against the weather, but even in the flickering orange light cast by a brazier on top of the building’s steps, Lewan could see that they all had steel in their hands.

One stepped forward and brandished his sword so it caught the light. “Name yourselves!”

“I am Lewan, guest of the Lady Talieth, and this is my servant.”

“An intruder is loose on the grounds,” said the man. “Go back to your rooms at once and lock the door.”

“I know,” said Lewan. He remembered Talieth’s proud demeanor that she had used on him to such great effect, and he tried to put some of that into his voice. “I am on an errand for the Lady. Most urgent. You must let me pass.”

“ ‘Must,’ he says?”

The three men behind the speaker spread out, blocking the street and flanking Ulaan and Lewan.

“The Old Man still rules here,” said the guard, “and the only thing we
must
do is watch for intruders. I have heard of Lady Talieth’s guest, and I’ve been told what he looks like. Now lower your hoods. Both of you.”

Lewan hesitated. If the man knew of him, perhaps this would all be over soon. He held the bundle with Berun’s bow in one hand. With the other he lowered his hood and risked a glance over his shoulder at Ulaan. She lowered her hood as well.

“Well, look who it is,” said the man nearest Ulaan. “Your … servant, you said?”

Lewan took a deep breath. His heart was fluttering. “The Lady Talieth gave her to me to serve my needs during my stay. Bataar, is it?”

Ulaan lowered her eyes and bowed. “Ulaan, Master.”

“Ulaan, yes,” said Lewan. “Forgive me.”

The leader looked at Lewan long and hard, then glanced at Ulaan, and back at Lewan. “Well,
Master
Lewan,” he said, “you go back to your room and lock the door like I told you. Let Ulaan … serve you, but you stay inside. Do this, and you and I won’t have any trouble tonight.”

“But my errand—”

“Will wait. You’re going to do as I tell you. One way or the other.”

“But—”

“Enough!” said the man. With his free hand, he motioned toward Lewan and Ulaan. “Dayul and Turan, take Master Lewan and his woman back to his room. Ulaan, you know the rules. You’ll serve your master well if you see that he stays there.”

One of the men put a heavy hand on Lewan’s arm and tried to turn him. “Come along.”

Lewan shook his arm free. “No! You don’t understand. I—”

“No,” said the leader.
“You
don’t understand. Now you can walk back or be carried. Your choice.”

“Master,” said Ulaan. “Please. Let’s go b—”

Lewan’s left arm shot out of his cloak. After shrugging off the guard’s arm, he’d reached for the hammer and pulled it from his belt. The guard was reaching for him again, but Lewan swung the hammer and brought its heavy head down on the man’s wrist as hard as he could. He heard the bones shatter like eggshells, and the man screamed.

“Ulaan, run!” said Lewan.

She turned to run but the guard grabbed her, catching her sleeve and pulling her toward him. Lewan brought the
hammer back and started toward her, but the other guard and the leader rushed him. The leader reached him first, and Lewan swiped at him with the hammer.

The leader stepped back. “Stop this! Stop this now or you are dead, guest of Lady Talieth or not.”

Lewan raised the hammer again. His other hand, still holding the unstrung bow in its bundle, he waved before him to ward off any strikes. “Let the girl go.”

“Wrong answer,” said the leader, and he came at Lewan, this time with his sword ready.

Keeping most of his attention focused on the man’s blade, which he held low, Lewan struck the sword with the bundled bow, knocking it out of the guard’s hands. He swung the hammer at his face, but the man ducked, reached out, and caught the haft with his free hand. A quick twist, and he yanked the hammer out of Lewan’s hand. Lewan lashed out with the bow, but the guard caught it, yanked it from Lewan’s grasp, and tossed it onto the pavement.

“Little bastard broke my wrist!” said the guard whom Lewan had struck.

The leader hefted the hammer, seeming to enjoy its weight in his hand. “An odd weapon,” he said, “but effective.” He retrieved his fallen sword, sheathed it, and looked to his injured man. “Have at him, Dayul. Don’t kill him. But he’s earned a hard lesson.”

“No!” Ulaan shrieked, but the man holding her yanked her away.

Dayul stepped forward, cradling his broken arm against his torso. His other hand held a dagger. “You hold still,” he said, “and I won’t use the sharp part.”

The man struck. Lewan saw it coming and tried to dodge, but Dayul was far too quick. The brass pommel of the dagger smashed into Lewan’s cheek, tearing the skin. He went down onto the wet gravel, a dozen orbs of light dancing in the world around him.

“Get up,” said Dayul. “I didn’t hear a bone break. You broke me. I’m going to break you.”

“No!” said Ulaan. “Leave him alone! Please. Please, I’ll take him back to his room.”

“You stay out of this,” said the leader. “Your new master earned this.”

“Get up,” said Dayul, “or I’ll kick in your ribs right there.”

Lewan took a deep breath and began to push himself back to his feet. He didn’t even have a knife. The hammer and bow had been his only weapons, and they had been taken from him with ease. He knew that any one of these men could best him easily. They were trained assassins. Out in the wild with a bow, Lewan might have stood a chance. Here, outnumbered in the dark, the best Lewan could hope for was to take his beating and sneak away once they’d finished with him. He stood up.

“Leave him alone!” Ulaan cried.

“Quiet!” The man holding her yanked her arm.

Ulaan twisted in his grasp and slammed the heel of her hand into the man’s nose. Lewan heard a
crunch
as his nose shattered, but he kept his grip on Ulaan. She used it, pulling him close. In three quick motions her hand shot forward, grabbed the man’s knife from his sheath, and plunged it into his side just above his belt. He screamed, releasing her, and fell back.

Ulaan turned and dropped into a practiced fighting stance, the bloody knife in her hand. She glanced at Dayul, then fixed her gaze on the leader. “I serve the Lady Talieth,” she said. “You fools are interfering with her orders. Dayul, you will apologize to Lewan, then Master Lewan and I will leave. Anything else, and I’ll kill you all. Right here. Right now.”