"The first cut was for my brother's death," said Sauk. "This one is to remind me."
"My scrying does not lie," said Talieth. "I saw Kheil. Older and changed, but it was him."
"You saw the body, the face. The spirit we knew and loved is gone. Nine years gone. The one you saw calls himself Berun now. He killed two of my blades and tried to kill me. That was not my brother."
"And this… Berun. You saw him die. You are certain?"
A look of annoyance passed over Sauk's face, but he still did not lift his gaze from the horizon. "I saw the earth rise and take form. A great earth spirit swallowed Berun before going back into the ground. Unless the bastard found a way to breathe mud, he's dead."
"So you said nine years ago."
Sauk looked up then, only his eyes moving, but she saw every muscle in his body tense. "Tell me, Talieth. Are you calling me a liar or a fool?"
"Neither," said Talieth, holding his gaze. "I am telling you that Kheil-"
"Berun."
"Kheil escaped death once before. You said the earth rose to swallow him. A strange thing. A rogue earth spirit? Perhaps. They dwell in the Shalhoond. And far worse things haunt the Khopet-Dag. But I wonder…"
"What?" said Sauk. His eyes narrowed. The fury he held in check, and Talieth could see curiosity burning in his eyes.
"I have heard it said that druids can accomplish such things," said Talieth. "You wouldn't know of any meddlesome druids about, would you, Sauk? Any who might have reason to keep… Berun alive?"
Sauk blinked and dropped his gaze. In his present mood, that was an expression of true shock. "You're saying-"
"I'm saying it would be foolish to underestimate our opponent. This is not a game we can afford to lose."
"If… if he survived, why can't you scry him? Use your… whatever you do, to find him?"
Talieth looked to the horizon. "Don't think I haven't tried. If he is out there, his presence is hidden from me."
"Perhaps because he is dead?"
"Or perhaps because whatever-or whomever-came to his aid is able to hide him from me."
Sauk thought a moment, then said, "This is possible?"
"Possible?" said Talieth. "Yes. Likely? No. But many damned unlikely things have happened of late, have they not?"
Sauk nodded and sighed. "I will be ready."
"Speaking of which, have you been able to glean anything?" She gestured toward the Three Hearts.
"Nothing," said Sauk. "I serve the Beastlord. My communion is the hunt. This relic"-Sauk shuddered, and a hint of sneer passed over his face — "it sings of growing things and deep secrets. I do not like it. I will continue to pry at it if you wish, but I don't hold much hope."
A tremor shook the mountain. Nothing more than a slight vibration at their feet, but it was enough to set stones rattling down the mountain and bring a shower of dirt and grit down upon them.
Talieth wiped the dust from her eyes and picked up the relic. "We have no time for you to fumble your way through the relic's secrets."
"Where are you taking it?" Sauk called after her.
"To someone else," she said, and strode away.
Chapter Fifteen
On the balcony outside his room, Lewan stood dumbstruck. Never had he seen such utter beauty. He'd been on mountainsides many times. More than he could remember. He'd lived in forests entire seasons during his sixteen years. The largest city he'd ever visited was Almorel by the Lake of Mists. It was probably a small city as many in the world would count such things. Perhaps even rustic compared to the grand cities of the West or in distant Shou. But to Lewan, who spent most of his days in the wild, it was a city nonetheless. Mountains, forests, and cities… these things were not new to him. But never had he seen all three come together in such splendor.
His balcony was one of several jutting out from the upper floors of a tower, and it offered a view of the entire fortress. The fortress itself had no walls, for the canyon in which it had been built-or in some places apparently carved-served as a natural and seemingly impregnable wall. Although Lewan had no training in the ways of war, even he could see that the only hope of taking this fortress would be through stealth or the air-and no realm in the Endless Wastes commanded an army capable of such an air assault.
The tower in which he'd been housed was one of several in the fortress-and far from the tallest. The tallest-a massive structure in the center of the fortress-was at least six hundred feet high, perhaps more, and its upper stories looked out over the upper rims of the canyon. From the top of that tower, one surely could have seen beyond the canyon and well into the steppe for hundreds of miles.
All the buildings were of a style strange to Lewan's eyes- one he'd never seen before, all odd angles and interlocking designs of stone, many of which had a decidedly purple tinge. The great tower in the center was strangest of all, for it seemed that great pillars of stone had been twisted braidlike around the entire shaft. They disappeared into the upper stories, and the top of the tower itself seemed a garden or small park, open to the winds on every side. And around the entire tower-indeed around most of the buildings in the fortress-grew vines, trees, flowers, and vegetation of every sort. Some of the flowers ringing the great tower seemed big as shields.
Strangest and most wondrous of all were the statues. Pillars-mostly stone, but there were at least two forged of some silvery metal-rose above many of the buildings, and atop them were great statues. Some were in the form of beautiful men and women. One woman, sculpted entirely from black stone, stood poised on one foot, her long hair and robes seeming to flow out behind her, and one hand held aloft a metal rod at least twenty feet long. Other statues were of creatures that ranged from the beautifully strange-a griffon, a winged deer, a feathered serpent-to the grotesque-a batwinged gargoyle with the horns of a ram, a wolf with three heads, a bearded old man with antlers, and a hugely muscular man with the head of a camel.
Green grew over everything-climbing buildings, winding through the streets, ringing towers. In places it was hard to see the stone. Blossoms were everywhere as spring took hold. Their sweet smell mingled with the crisp scent of the high mountain air and the loamy aroma of the greenery.
A large waterfall fell over the western canyon wall to feed a great pool, out of which flowed dozens of waterways that wound throughout the fortress. Lewan counted no less than eight fountains within the fortress, and he thought he could even see the sparkle of water on the roof of the great tower. How could water flow up so high? People lounged by some of the fountains-men in robes or loose-fitting garb, women in colors to rival the flowers and blossoms.
And over all this-buildings, towers, statues on pedestals, the great dome near the western canyon wall-flew birds of every color. Black ravens, white doves, and songbirds ranging from deepest blue to brightest yellow and every shade between. Lewan, who had lived most of his life in the wild and could name every bird of the Amber Steppes and Shalhoond in at least two languages, had never seen at least a dozen of these birds.
Lewan had never really considered the meaning of the word paradise. But standing there in the late morning air, clean and dressed in the loose-fitting linen clothes Ulaan had brought him, he knew that he could not imagine anything more fitting than the scene before him. This was paradise.
But then his master's voice rose up in his memory. Sentinelspire… you don't know that place. It's… hard to see clearly there. Sentinelspire is a realm built on blood. Murder. I don't want you anywhere near that place.
How could his master have been so wrong?