"How could I possibly help you?" he said.
"Nothing too drastic," said the Old Man. "I'm not expecting you to grab weapons and defend me against the assassins of Sentinelspire. Your word, Lewan, is all I ask. In a short time, I will need your word of support. My plans will still succeed without you, Lewan. But things will go better for a great many people-yourself included-if you speak on my behalf. But don't worry yourself too much. I am not asking for your false witness. When the time comes, you will want to support me. You will see things my way. All I ask is that you take the courage to do what your heart knows is right."
Lewan heard the man walk away, and when he looked up a few moments later, he saw no sign of him. The Old Man of the Mountain had faded into the gathering gloom of evening. Something occurred to Lewan in that moment. The Old Man had called him Lewan. Repeatedly. Lewan had never given the
Old Man his name. He was sure of it. Still… Talieth had told him that her father had ways of seeing things beyond spies, and he certainly seemed to know a great deal already. If he knew what had happened to his master, knew of Talierh's plans against him, knew even of Ulaan, then the Old Man knowing Lewan's name hardly seemed notable. Still… Lewan could not shake the feeling that there had been something oddly familiar about the Old Man.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Lewan reached the door to his room, he was breathing heavily and his legs felt like they had turned to granite. After the Old Man had left him on the mountainside, Sauk had come running up, his eyes as large and hard as river stones, and demanded to know what had been said. Lewan told him everything, even that the Old Man told him to tell everyone and that there was nothing Talieth's conspiracy could do about any of it. When the tale was told, Sauk simply stood there, staring at Lewan and chewing on his bottom lip. Lewan couldn't tell if the half-orc was furious, or terrified out of his mind. A little of both, he decided.
"Impossible," Sauk had said, seemingly to himself, then broke into a long string of curses in his own tongue.
The rant seemed to stoke his agitation rather than calm it, and Sauk had ordered Lewan to get his clothes on. Hadn't even allowed him a moment in the stream to wash the pasty symbols off his skin. Lewan had scarcely pulled on his boots and grabbed Berun's bow before Sauk was pulling him to his feet and rushing him onward. They'd run the whole way back, even after full dark caught them on the mountainside. Lewan's boots were scuffed and his toes hurt from bashing into rocks and roots.
The journey through the statue-haunted passageway had been the worst. Sauk had clutched Lewan's wrist and dragged him through the maze. He'd been none too careful, and they'd brushed up against several statues. More than once, Lewan could have sworn he'd felt a stony hand or claw reach out and brush his shoulder. But perhaps that had simply been his fear and exhaustion overtaking him in the dark.
Back at the fortress, Sauk had barreled through the guards at the gate, knocking one man flat on his behind. He'd pushed Lewan up the stairs to the tower, opened the door, told him, "Get to your rooms and stay there!" then bounded off.
Lewan watched him go until he was little more than a blur in shadows between pools of lamplight. Then he'd made the climb to his room.
He stood before the door-his hair, skin, and clothes drenched with sweat, dust caking him, his chest heaving, and his legs feeling as if they were about to collapse. Lewan was not soft. He'd lived in the wild most of his life, running for miles without rest. But the day had drained him. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, he was spent. He scarcely had the energy to twist the knob of his door.
Lewan stepped inside, and an array of scents hit him like a blow-spiced candles, cherry wood burning in the hearth, expensive oil burning low in two lamps, an array of blossoms strewn about the room and on the bed, and set in the middle of the floor between the miniature oak and holly, a huge brass tub. Ulaan, wearing a blue silk gown, her hair loose and flowing down her torso, stood next to it. She saw him and smiled.
"Lewan! Oh, you look ready to fall over." She went to him, pulled him into the room, and shut the door behind him. "I've had a bath brought into the room tonight. I knew you'd be tired after a day out on the mountain with Sauk." She dropped her eyes and smiled. "And I thought we might not want to have to walk so far from the bath to bed tonight."
Lewan took her hands and pulled them off him. "Ulaan… I must speak to you."
He saw a slight widening of her eyes, a quick intake of breath-but she hid it quickly. "What is it, Lewan?" she said carefully.
He looked to the bedside table. A platter of food-fruits, bread, white cheese, wine-waited there. She'd even found a sprig of red holly and put it on the edge of the platter. He walked over, threw the bow on the bed, then poured the wine into a goblet and drained it in one gulp. As the warmth began to suffuse his head, he looked to Ulaan, put all the gentleness into his voice he could, and said, "Don't look so worried."
She would not look at him. "Do I have reason to be?"
Lewan put the empty goblet on the platter. He saw that his hand was trembling. "I'm not sending you away if that's what you're thinking."
Ulaan did look up then, her eyes rimmed with tears. She smiled and rushed at him with open arms.
Lewan took a step back and placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her at arm's length. Even through the grime coating his fingers, he could feel how thin her dress was and how soft the skin beneath.
Her eyes narrowed, not so much in hurt as confusion. "Lewan, I…"
"Please, Ulaan. You must listen. We…" Lewan swallowed and took a deep breath. Damn it all! Exhausted as he was, he was still blushing like a little boy. "We cannot… be together. At least not for a while."
"I don't understand. You said you weren't sending me away! You said-"
"No!" Lewan shook his head, cutting her off. "I mean, we can't… you know. Love."
Ulaan sat on the bed. "You don't love me." She seemed to be talking more to herself than him. "Earlier today, I thought… when the Lady Talieth interrupted, I was so sure you were about to tell me y-"
"I love you, Ulaan." There, he had said it, and he felt a surge of pride that he'd said it, plain and simple, no hesitation. "I do. But you must understand. I-"
"If you love me, then why can't we share our love? You said-"
"Ulaan, please!" He said it with more force than he'd intended. "I'm sorry, Ulaan. I'm just so tired, so confused. I can barely think. You must understand, my faith… the ways I was taught, the path of the Oak Father I have sworn to follow…"
He trailed off, struggling for the right words to make her understand. They wouldn't come to him. His exhaustion was pulling him down, and the wine wasn't helping, either.
"I took an oath, Ulaan. Being with you, I… I betrayed that oath. Today, I purified myself, and if I am going to get us out of here, my only hope is to remain pure. To seek the Oak Father's aid. I-"
"Us?" said Ulaan. "Get us out of here. Lewan, what do you mean? You mean… leave?"
She looked at him a long time, then stared at the wall. He could tell she was not seeing the stone, but all the possibilities before her.
"Yes," he said. "Leave the Fortress. Leave Sentinelspire. Come away with me."
She looked at him. "Where?"
"I have no idea," he said. "One problem at a time. But you'll be free. No longer a sla-" He caught himself. "A servant. You'll be with me."
"Your woman?"
"No. You'll he your woman. Free. As for you and me… we'll figure all that out once we're long gone from here. But it will be up to us, not Talieth or Sauk or the Old Man or any other madman who falls from the sky in a puff of smoke, asking for my help."