The figure made its way round the last of the trees. A man. Sauk could tell by the way the figure walked. But his features were completely hidden within the folds of a loose robe and a deep hood. In the gloom of the oncoming evening, the robe looked black.
The man stopped a few feet away from Lewan. The boy opened his eyes and started at the sight of the robed man standing near him. The man reached up with both hands and pulled down his hood. Sauk got his first good look at the man, and he felt all the blood drain from his face.
Lewan had been aware of someone approaching for some time. Believing it to be Sauk, he paid it no mind, though he did note that he heard him coming quite clearly. Days ago, on the trek through the Shalhoond, Lewan had been surprised at how someone as large as Sauk could move with such grace through the woods. Perhaps Sauk was purposefully making noise to announce his return.
When the sound of footsteps stopped nearby, Lewan opened his eyes. He gasped and barely caught the scream in his throat, for it wasn't the half-orc after all, but someone wearing a dark robe and hood. Lewan could just make out a man's chin within the deep shadow under the hood.
"Forgive me," said the hooded man. His voice was deep and rich, but Lewan could hear the rasp of old age in its timbre. "I did not mean to startle you."
The stranger lowered his hood, and Lewan faced an old man. His thinning hair, mostly gray but with streaks of black, just dusted his shoulders. His skin was not as dark as Lewan's, bur it had the darker tone of someone from southern regions, and though he was wrinkled as worn leather, his eyes were bright and sharp.
"Wh-who are you?" said Lewan. The man did nor appear hostile, and Lewan's hammering heart was beginning to slow. Lewan leaned over, grabbed his trousers, and covered his nakedness.
The man smiled and gave a slight bow. "Forgive me again," he said. "Though you have been a guest in my home for some days, I have not yet greeted you-though I understand you have been partaking of my hospitality. Well met, Lewan."
"Your… house?" said Lewan. "You mean, you're…"
"The Old Man of the Mountain. Master of Sentinelspire."
Lewan's mouth went dry, and his heart began to hammer again. "Uh… w-well met, Master. Thank you for your, um… hospitality. Your daughter the Lady Talieth has made me most comfortable."
"Has she?" The Old Man chuckled. "She does like them young, but I would have thought you were a bit young even for her."
Lewan blushed and averted his eyes. "That was not my meaning, my lord! I-"
"And now," the Old Man cut him off, "I must ask your forgiveness a third time. I know what you meant, young man. I was simply having a bit of fun. But I am glad you have met Talieth, for it is she about which we must speak. She and the half-orc and their little… what would be the word?"
"Word, my lord?"
"You and I have just met, Lewan. I am trying to mind my manners, as they say. Put a polite term to their very impolite… plotting."
"Plotting, lord?"
The Old Man frowned. "Don't dither with me, boy. You're an honest young man. Your master brought you up right. Six days in my fortress, and you are already practicing the arts of deceit. Please allow me to be brutally honest with you, Lewan. You're no good at it. Don't try. Remain true to yourself."
He knows, Lewan thought. Knows it all. Knows Talieth is trying to stop him. Knows Sauk is in on it. Knows I'm helping them. He might even know the bargain I've struck. Lewan's fear paled into something approaching sheer terror at that, and he thought, Oh, Ulaan…
"I've not come to kill you, boy," said the Old Man. "And your girl is safe from me."
Lewan's eyes widened and his mouth dropped.
The Old Man threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, dear boy! Don't look so shocked. I'm no wizard, reading your thoughts like a tome. You wear your thoughts plain on your face. However…" The good humor left the Old Man's face and he looked down on Lewan with utmost solemnity. "I will not tell you not to fear. Be very afraid, Lewan. Talieth and her little conspiracy… well, I'll forsake politeness for bluntness on this point. They are lying to you. They are using you. Do not trust them."
Doubt began to course through Lewan, like a poison slowly working its way through the veins. It occurred to him to wonder why he had never seriously questioned Talieth's tale or her motives. True enough, a large part of it at first was that he'd believed himself a prisoner without much choice. But there were the earthquakes, that plume of steam from the mountaintop earlier, and the Old Man was a lord of assassins, after all, a master of murderers. Then the obvious question occurred to Lewan.
"Why-?"
"Why haven't I done something about it?" Lewan nodded, unable to speak.
The Old Man shook his head. "Well, let me just say that the time is not yet right." "The… time?"
"Let me guess," said the Old Man. "Talieth, Sauk, maybe even a few of the other blades, have told you that I have gone quite mad and am intent on destroying all they hold dear. To assure your sympathies, they have probably even told you that my nefarious plans will destroy all you hold dear as well. Do I hit close to the mark?"
Lewan said nothing and had to force himself not to nod. He didn't know who or what to believe.
"Truth is a rare gift, Lewan," said the Old Man, "but I will give it to you now. I am not out to destroy the world, but to save it-save it from Talieth and those like her, whose greed and ambition would destroy anyone and anything that gets in their way."
The sounds of crickets and night birds began to fill the wood, as Lewan simply sat there, staring into the pool. In the past tenday, his entire world had been cracked. He felt raw, drained, and utterly and completely confused. He put his head in his hands, and without looking up, he said, "Why are you telling me all this? What if I don't believe you? What-?"
He stopped himself. He'd been about to say, What if I go back to the fortress and tell Talieth everything-that you are on her trail, aware of her entire conspiracy? But he caught himself just in time. Saying that would be as much as admitting he was involved, confirming the Old Man's story, and no matter how sincere the man seemed, Lewan could not ignore the fact that he was sitting naked and alone in the middle of nowhere with a complete stranger, one who controlled some of the best assassins in the known world.
"Despite what you may think of me, boy, I hold no ill will toward you, and it grieves me to see you so ill used. Taken from your master, held captive, used as a pawn in Talieth's game. I am no monster. You have never done me any harm, and as a guest in my home, it is my duty to help you. However, I must confess that my motives and my reasoning for meeting you here are not entirely… altruistic."
Lewan wasn't sure what that word meant, but he took the general meaning behind it.
"If Talieth asks you what we spoke about," said the Old Man, "tell her. Hide nothing. As I said, deceit is not one of your strengths. Do not be ashamed by that. Revel in it. Sauk will certainly ask you. He's watching us now, I'm sure, though I don't know if he's close enough to hear." He shrugged. "It does not concern me. As soon as I'm gone, I'm sure he'll be along. Tell him everything. However, to answer your question at last-why I have come to speak to you. To put it plainly: in a short time, I will need your help."
Lewan chuckled, though it was from sheer exasperation, not humor. He'd been captured, watched his master die, and involved in a conspiracy to depose a supposed mad master of assassins, and now the very man he'd been asked to help defeat was standing here and asking for his help-while Lewan himself was naked and shivering. Lewan felt trapped in some sick bard's tale, and all he really wanted was to take Ulaan and go far away from all this.