Lightning flashed overhead, flickering off steel in the half-orc's hand. By the time the thunder answered, he was already on the move, the tiger following.
Lewan was aware of none of this. He stood on the balcony, leaning against the ivy-thick railing in the downpour, unmoving as the statues in the courtyard below. His hair hung heavy over his forehead, and the tears on his cheeks mingled with the rain.
So loud was the roaring of the rain and the recurring thunder that he never heard the door open behind him, nor did he hear Ulaan lock it behind her and call out to him.
She found him on the balcony, hesitated only a moment before stepping into the rain, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly at her touch but did not turn.
"Master Lewan!" She had to shout to be heard over the storm. "Come inside! You're drenched."
He ignored her.
"Master Lewan! Master, can you hear me?" He turned to her, and she flinched at the pain in his eyes. "Go away," he said.
"Master Lewan, what's wrong?" "Please. Go."
Ulaan looked back into the room, then cast a quick glance outward, where the great tower dominated the center of the fortress. When she turned back to him, Lewan could see a slight tremble in her bottom lip, and her eyes flicked back and forth like those of a deer who hears wolves in the distance.
"Master, I… I'm frightened," she said. She clutched at his sleeve with both hands. "Please, let me stay. Please."
Lewan blinked and looked down at her hands. She was trembling.
"Please come inside, Master Lewan," she said. "Please, I beg you."
Lewan could see no point in doing so, but neither could he see any point in refusing her. He sighed and nodded, allowing her to drag him inside. He stood dripping on a rug that was probably worth more than all the coins he'd ever held in his life. Ulaan scrambled to the balcony doors, pushed them shut against the wind and rain, and threw down all three latches. The sound of the rain hitting the thick wood sounded hard as hail, and the wind whistled in beneath the door. Ulaan pulled the gauzy curtains over the doors. They were soaked and too heavy to flutter at the encroaching wind. As she stretched on her tiptoes to pull the heavier drapes over the balcony doors, shutting out the breeze and dampening the sound, Lewan noticed that her silk dress was soaked and sheer. It clung to her like a second skin. Lewan swallowed hard and averted his eyes.
"We must get you out of those clothes before you freeze," said Ulaan. Her voice held a slight tremble, and her hands shook as she reached for collar of his shirt.
"No," said Lewan, pushing her hands away. "You should leave. I can undress myself."
Her eyes went wide. "You said I could stay."
"No," said Lewan. "I never said that."
"Please, master!" she clutched at him again. "Please don't make me go back out there."
Lewan pushed her away, using more force than necessary. "Why? What has everyone so frightened?"
Ulaan clutched her fists to her mouth. "Not tonight, master, please. Please, don't make me go back out there. I beg you. I'll do anything."
"Then answer me," said Lewan, anger plain in his voice. "What has you so scared?"
Thunder shook the room, rattling even the massive brass candelabra flanking the hearth. Ulaan's voice was barely above a whisper as she replied, "This night… something… special for that old druid the Old Man keeps locked up. Something…" She shuddered. "Things are not like they once were in the Fortress. The shadows have a life to them. There are sometimes eyes in the dark. The great tower, it has always been known as the Tower of the Sun, but since the Old Man began using the druid, it has become a strange and wild place, filled with secrets, shadows, and things that grow in the dark. Sometimes-on this night most especially-the dark things leave the tower. It is not wise to be about. Best to stay behind locked doors. Everyone does. Everyone except that crazed half-orc. He hunts the grounds, and gods help any who cross his path." Ulaan swallowed and wiped the rain out of her eyes. She, too, now stood in a puddle of the rain dripping out of her clothes and hair. "Please, please, Master Lewan. Let me stay."
Even though the room was pleasantly warm-from the low fire in the hearth, the dozen or so candles, and a flow of warm air coming from those odd slots in the walls-a shiver passed through Lewan.
"Very well," he said. "But I undress myself. You can stoke the fire. And avert your eyes. You promise?"
"I promise, Master Lewan. Thank you."
She rushed to the fire, the wet silk of her dress rasping as she passed him.
A single towel lay by the washbasin Bataar had brought. Lewan used it to sop the worst of the rain from his hair, then peeled off his shirt.
"The Lady Talieth," said Ulaan, her voice still fragile, "she said that your… order? Is order the right word?"
"Right word for what?" Lewan threw his sodden shirt next to the door. He looked to the girl to make sure she was keeping her word. She crouched in front of the fire, her back to him as she fed wood onto the flames. Standing between him and the light of the fire, Lewan noticed that her dress was very sheer, and the light shone right through it, outlining her every curve. His breath caught in his throat, and he quickly turned his back to her. He kicked off the slippers he'd been wearing and began working at the drawstring of his trousers.
"For your faith," she said. "You and your teacher. Lady Talieth said that tonight was a very special night for you, and that you were saddened by not being able to celebrate it with others of your… order?"
"Tonight is the Jalesh Rudra, "said Lewan. He'd finally managed to loosen the knot, and he pushed his trousers and smallclothes off at the same time. Only then, as he stood naked and shivering, did he realize that he had no dry clothes.
"What is this Jalesh Rudra?" Ulaan pronounced it very carefully.
Lewan looked around. The damp towel was small. It wouldn't even serve as a proper loincloth. With nothing to put on, he crawled into his bed, under the silk sheets and thick fur coverlet. He leaned against the wooden headboard and pulled one of the large pillows over his bare torso. The two trees at the foot of his bed stood between him and the fire, so Ulaan was no more than a bit of shadow and light beyond.
"A sacred celebration," said Lewan. He added, in a quieter voice, "Especially for me."
The room brightened. Lewan heard the fire roaring to life as the flames caught the wood.
"May I turn around now?" said Ulaan. "Uh, yes," said Lewan. "Sorry."
She stood and turned, but with the fire behind her, Lewan could see no more than the dark profile of her head and shoulders between the branches of the oak.
"Why especially for you?" she asked.
"What?"
"You said this… Jalesh Rudra was a sacred celebration. 'Especially for me,' you said."
Lewan hadn't realized she'd heard him. He hadn't meant for her to. "It's… a sort of coming of age ceremony."
"Coming of age?"
Lewan blushed and looked away. "Tonight was the night my master was to perform sacred rites in my honor. If my god found me worthy, tonight I was to become a man. To enter into full communion with the god."
"Rites?" said Ulaan. "What kind of rites? What must you do to become a man?"
Even though he could see no more than her upper profile, he saw that she was trembling.
"Are you still frightened, Ulaan?"
"I am better now, Master," she said. "Thank you."
"Please stop that."
"Stop what, Master?" Her voice seemed frightened again.