Lewan obeyed her, but managed a hesitant, "Why, lady?"
"Remember our words yesterday, Lewan," Talieth said, her voice low. "You walk in the midst of conspiracy. In this tower, you are safe enough. There are not many here, and those who are belong to me. But outside these doors, you speak to no one. I speak for you. You keep your hood up and your eyes down. Do you understand?"
"Yes, lady." Lewan hunched inside the robe and pulled the hood down as far as it would go. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the hem of Talieth's skirt as she opened the doors and proceeded outside.
The fury of last night's storm had passed, but the air outside was still thick. Something heavier than a mist but lighter than a drizzle drifted in the air and made a faint sizzling sound as it hit the stone. Talieth led Lewan down wide stone steps and onto a gravel pathway. She turned left and proceeded down the path at a brisk walk.
Lewan risked a glance up. The storm had wreaked havoc on the fortress. Leaves, blossoms, and branches lay everywhere.
Talieth and Lewan had to leave the path twice and walk through the grass in order to make their way around fallen trees. Servants were busy everywhere, cleaning up the mess and hauling it away. With the sun hidden behind the sodden sky, Lewan had no idea what time of day it was, but his stomach told him that he had probably slept through the morning. The platter of food Ulaan had brought with her last night still sat on his bedside table, untouched.
They passed a set of elegantly crafted buildings with brass pillars set before huge double doors, then walked through another garden, and Lewan saw that they were passing beneath one of the tall columns on which stood a statue. The statue was bigger than a cave bear. It had been carved in the form of a rearing stallion, its mane flowing back over the spread wings of an eagle. Holding his hood so it would not fall back, Lewan made sure no one was around, then looked up. Smaller statues-all of winged horses-lined the path or sat upon pedestals throughout the garden.
They passed a fountain whose outlet was choked with detritus from the storm. A massive oak grew beside the pool, its boughs spread over the fountain so that the lowest leaves were tickled by water spouting from the mouth of another winged horse. A half-dozen men were standing under the boughs of the oak near the water. Lewan saw that Sauk was among them.
Talieth led Lewan down a narrow side path toward the group of men. Coming under the eaves of the oak, they passed out of the drizzle. Still, remembering Talieth's warning, Lewan kept his hood up and his head down. Sauk knew of his presence in the Fortress, but Lewan wasn't sure about the others. He didn't recognize any of them from the Shalhoond.
As they drew near, Lewan risked a glance up and was sorry he did. Sauk and the other men were standing around what Lewan first thought was a pile of muddy, torn rags. But then he saw that it was not mud at all. It was blood, and the rags were what remained of clothes upon bodies. How many, Lewan could not be sure, for the pieces were jumbled together. His gorge rose. He'd seen slaughter before, but animals-deer, bison, elk, cattle, sheep. Only twice before had he seen people slaughtered with such savagery.
"What happened here?" said Talieth. Lewan heard the rage and shock in her voice.
Sauk spared Lewan a glance, then fixed his gaze on Talieth. "We think it is Vasilik, Draalim, and perhaps Peluris. The others… well, we're still looking for the rest. There aren't enough pieces for whole bodies. We think some might be in the water."
"Why were they outdoors last night? I gave orders!" The men around Sauk looked away, blanching under the lady's fury.
"They were keeping a vigil," said Sauk. "A vigil?"
"The Old Man told them that the faithful must be ready, ordered them to prepare and contemplate." Sauk shrugged. "Looks like they weren't prepared after all."
Talieth stood a moment, looking at the carnage. "Get this cleaned up," she said, "and have men search the pool. I don't want pieces floating up once the weather warms." She turned to Lewan. "Come."
Raising her skirts over the blood-soaked leaves, she went round the men and led Lewan back along the path. As Lewan walked, he kept his head low, and thus could not help but look right upon a bloody torso with everything but half an arm and the remains of a neck torn away. But through the blood and shredded clothing, Lewan saw one wound clearly. He might have thought nothing of the claw marks and their size-except that he and Berun had spent several days tracking those very prints. A steppe tiger.
Lewan's eyes widened and he glanced toward Sauk. The half-orc caught his gaze and smiled.
Talieth and Lewan left the garden, passing under a stone arch covered in mistletoe. She said nothing, but her gait was stiffer than before. Whether from rage or shock, Lewan couldn't be sure-he had been around no ladies of such social standing in his life and could not read her-bur he was certain there was very little grief in her mood. She had ordered the men to clean up the torn corpses as if ordering a servant to sweep up a broken plate.
A great domed building stood at the end of the path before them. Pillars ringed it-Lewan counted four on the near side alone-and he was surprised to see smoke wafting out the top. Not pillars, then, but great chimneys, each one covered in the odd angle-patterns that seemed to dominate the fortress’s architecture.
Talieth glanced back and saw him gawking. "This is the Dome of Fire," she said. "Get your head down."
Lewan obeyed, and she led him down a brick path along one wall of the dome to a narrow stairway that began at ground level and descended into the earth. Ten steps down, the darkness was broken by lamps set in alcoves along the wall. The air felt cool but close, and water from the storm ran down into the earth through gutters on either side of the path. Twenty more steps and the stairway turned left and doubled back, their way lit by more lamps. Farther from the fresh air, Lewan could smell the lamp oil, scented with some kind of spice.
The stairs doubled back twice more, then ended before a yawning blackness. Lewan hesitated, but Talieth stepped toward the right wall. Just at the border between light and shadow was a stone column about waist high. The odd angular patterns and strange runes covered it, and atop it, set within the stone itself, was the top third of a crystal sphere. In the murky light cast by the last of the lamps, the crystal seemed black as dreamless sleep. Talieth placed her open hand on the crystal and stroked it.
Lewan gasped and jumped back as fire flared to life in the darkness beyond-leaping from a ledge that ran along the wall a few feet off the floor. It ran down the length of the hall, disappearing around a bend not far ahead.
Talieth turned around and gave him a gracious nod of her head. "Welcome to the Dome of Fire," she said, "although as I'm sure you've guessed, we're actually well below the dome itself."
"How-?" Lewan stared, open mouthed, at the long stream of flame running along the wall.
"The Imaskari were masters of the elements," said Talieth. "They are long gone, but their works endure, only waiting for the proper hand to bring them to life." A sharpness entered her eyes, not unlike the careful watchfulness Lewan had seen in the eyes of Sauk's tiger when she'd been set to watch him. "Much as we are hoping you will do with your sacred relic, yes?"
Lewan drew a breath, intending to point out that he had never agreed to aid their conspiracy. At least not yet. But that tigerlike gaze made him think better of it. Still, frightened as he was-and he didn't even try to fool himself into thinking that he wasn't frightened-he could not bring himself to give in so easily. He simply looked to the flames and kept his tone light as he said, "What would you have me do, lady?"