She heard the bells of Highwatch. For years they had called the people to shelter, the warriors to arms, and the Knights of Ondrahar to battle. But that night, they were the death knell of Hweilan the High Warden's granddaughter, and they were the herald of Hweilan the…
What?
Time to grow up, Hweilan.
Time to choose.
Time to hunt.
Time to-
"Wake up, Hweilan."
She opened her eyes and saw a haggard-looking Menduarthis leaning over her.
Hweilan pushed him away and sat up. She was upon a pallet of many furs, with more on top of her. The bed was set on a large shelf in an alcove. Beyond was a room that seemed equal parts living quarters, kitchen, and dining area. A table covered in the cured skin of some animal dominated the middle of the room, and four chairs sat around it, one to each side. A large goblet in the midst of the table bubbled over with what looked to be a vaporous frost, but it gave off a strong blue light, much like the little falls in Ellestharn. In the hearth on the other side of the table, a fire burned under a large kettle. Long drapes, set in the colors of snow and sky, hid what she assumed was a door, and opposite that were two windows, both oval, both shuttered. The ceiling stretched low, and Hweilan noticed it was uneven. It seemed to undulate, almost like low waves. In fact, the entire room seemed not to have been built or even cut so much as shaped.
"Where am I?" she said.
"My humble abode," said Menduarthis. Stepping away from the bed, he extended his hands and twirled in a little circle. For all his bluster and power, there was still very much the element of a little boy about him. A mischievous little boy.
She kicked away the blankets and set her feet on the floor. Her coat, gloves, and boots were gone, but she still had on her lighter clothes. "And where is… here?"
"You are still in the realm of Kunin Gatar. We're in the mountains between her palace and the camp where we first took you."
Hweilan remembered the walk from the uldra's camp to the palace. She looked around at the walls and ceiling, wondering how strong they were, and said, "Those moving tree things…"
"Won't bother us." He smiled, and when she scowled in return, his smile broadened. "You hungry?"
She was. Starving. When had she last had a good meal?
"Yes," she said.
"Good! Good!" Menduarthis clapped and sauntered over to the hearth. "Have a seat at the table-any place you like. I'll get the food."
Hweilan sat. Menduarthis hummed tunelessly as he set wooden bowls and spoons on the table, then stirred whatever was cooking in the kettle.
Hweilan watched the glow bubbling up out of the goblet. She could see no light source. The liquid simply seemed to bubble up and glow as it spilled over the rim of the goblet. But it never ran out, and the vapor simply evaporated on the skin cloaking the table. She reached out and passed her fingers through the vapor. It was cool and tingling, almost pleasantly so, and when she pulled out her hand, the bits of whatever it was glowed on her hand a moment before evaporating.
"Here we are," said Menduarthis. He set the kettle on the table and filled Hweilan's bowl with a thick brown stew.
The smell of the food wafted over her, and her stomach gave a low growl. Hweilan blushed.
Menduarthis chuckled. "Your compliments to the cook, eh?"
"I'm starving," said Hweilan.
Menduarthis sat in the chair to her right and filled his own bowl. "Then eat," he said.
She did. With a vengeance. The stew was wonderfully warm, but not too hot to eat. And it was delicious, sprinkled with small chunks of meat, vegetables, and herbs.
"You like it?" said Menduarthis after his first few swallows.
"Mm," said Hweilan. "Very much. What is it?"
"Raven stew."
Hweilan coughed, spraying stew back into her bowl.
Menduarthis erupted into laughter. "Ah, you're too easy! Don't worry. Even if this were raven stew-and it isn't-I'd never eat that old bird, Roakh. Never know what he's had in his mouth. This meat is simply a plump rabbit."
Hweilan studied his face for any sign of deception, then resumed eating. After two more bites, she said, "I've never tasted rabbit this good."
"You warm my heart, little flower."
"My name is Hweilan."
"Yes, I know."
"So stop calling me 'little flower.'"
He grinned as he swallowed, then said, "Why does it bother you so?"
"It isn't my name."
"Menduarthis isn't my name."
Hweilan scowled. "But… but Lendri called you Menduarthis. I heard him. And Roakh. And the queen."
His smile faded. He left his spoon in the bowl and left the table. For a moment, Hweilan thought she'd offended him, but he merely went to a cabinet near the hearth, retrieved a black bottle and two glasses, then said, "So they did. But remember, Hweilan." He placed a glass beside Hweilan's bowl. A tapered cylinder the length of her forearm, it seemed made of finest crystal. "Remember what I told you on the night we met: "You can name yourself, or others will name you.' I spoke from experience."
He tipped the bottle over her glass and filled it with a dark red liquid.
"Wine," he said, and filled his own before sitting down again.
"What is your name, then?" she asked.
"Ah, Hweilan, I don't think we're close enough yet for such intimacies."
Hweilan scowled again. "Well then, why Menduarthis? Does it mean something?"
He took a sip of the wine, then said, "My black hound."
"What?" Hweilan snorted.
"Well," he said, "the short of it is that my coming to live here, among the queen's people, had a less than wise beginning. Perhaps even a bit foolhardy, you might say."
"You? I'm shocked."
"The flower's thorn doth prick me," he said and took another swallow of wine. "To tell the long tale short, I killed the queen's most prized hunting hound-a vicious black monster named Venom. To be fair, I did not know it was the queen's hound at the time-or even that there was a queen. She was furious at Venom's loss, but intrigued that a… well, a person such as I had stumbled into her domain. Very much in the fashion of Kunin Gatar, she told me that she was going to kill me unless I could give her good reason not to do so. Seeing her power-not to mention the score of hunters and half-dozen guards she had with her-I told her that I would take her hound's place. She laughed and accepted my offer, naming me My Black Hound in her language."
Hweilan finished the last of her stew and decided to try the wine. It was delicious, but the fumes hit her throat like fire. She choked it down and coughed. "What kind of wine is this?"
"The strong kind. Do you like it?"
A very pleasant warmth was spreading through her, but unlike the wines she'd taken at her grandfather's table, this did not dull her senses. In fact, sounds and smells seem to hit her with sharper clarity, and the light seemed richer.
She took another drink and managed to swallow this time without choking. "What's going to happen to me? "she said.
Menduarthis leaned back in his chair, took a slow drink, watching her over the rim of his goblet the entire time. He swallowed and said, "What do you mean?"
"What the queen did… what she said…"
Menduarthis let the silence build until it was becoming uncomfortable, then he set his almost empty goblet beside his bowl and said, "How much do you remember?"
Hweilan shuddered, and her stomach clenched. Suddenly, she didn't seem that hungry anymore. "I could feel her… inside me. In my mind."
She took another long drink of the wine. The queen had scraped through Hweilan's most intimate secrets, and she still sat up there in her palace, smug with victory. But still, something had happened, something…
"You surprised her,' said Menduarthis, breaking Hweilan's reverie. He sounded more serious, more solemn, than she had ever heard him, and when she looked up, he was scowling into the depths of his wine. "The last person who surprised Kunin Gatar… well, he's been through a hellish day, and he might not survive another."