The Warden

Chapter 38

Kyla's eyes went to Master Elwith, as he led Masis and her down a long, empty corridor. Various tunnels branched off from the one they had traveled down for some time, but they had never taken any of them. Ever onward they went. Always straight. Not a degree of deviation to the right or to the left. Master Elwith had said that the passage led directly toward the sovereigns' palace, but only he could know the truth of that statement until they arrived.

Kyla nearly swore as she trod on her hem yet again.

Curse this blasted dress! Now, I remember why I stopped wearing these things.

She had worn the dress partly because it was the only clothing the mages had provided and partly because her own garments, though not threadbare, had become, perhaps, a tad weatherworn. But she had refused to wear the shoes. Had she ever liked wearing them? Four hundred years of not wearing any type of footwear had built up a substantial pad of calluses on her feet. At this point shoes were obsolete. More people really should have followed her example.

Stop that! she scolded herself. Stay focused!

She had no idea what surprises Master Elwith had in store.

No sunlight made it to the depths. Only seeing-stones gleamed with their poor imitation. No wind stirred and refreshed the air. Only stale atmosphere hung, like musty, unwashed curtains. Sounds did not get swallowed by the open-mawed sky, but rather echoed forward and backward along the smooth corridors, announcing and re-announcing every sound. Eyes darting, chest tight, the walls never moved but seemed to close ranks on Kyla nonetheless. This place, dark and deep and oppressive, ripped Kyla from her element.

On the other hand, face clean shaven, reeking of soap, Masis strode along as though not a care weighed him down. Quite the contrary. Shoulders pulled neatly back, chin held aloft, he strode forward with the self-assured mantle and mien of a nobleman.

The fool probably isn't even paying attention, thought Kyla, flicking a hand out to clip his ear.

Masis blocked the assault without breaking stride or turning his attention to her. Ever forward his eyes remained, though a faint smirk colored his mouth.

Blast this boy! Kyla sucked in a constricted breath. And blast Elwith and blast this tunnel!

Eyes flitting about always finding the same dark stone walls in every direction, Kyla turned her mindeye out roving over the only lifelight available to her: Master Elwith's.

Uniform and strictly regulated, much like a soldier at attention, his lifelight constantly remixed and convected, its golden shimmer ever rising and sinking in on itself. Well regimented, almost flawless, how well contained Master Elwith kept his lifelight would impress almost anyone, even Lady Kyla. However, despite its order and control, that single blemish, that dark soulwound, impenetrable to her mindeye, disturbed her. So profound in depth, Kyla had no means to determine whether such a tumor was simply a character flaw Master Elwith refused to address or something else. Something disturbing to even consider.

"Do the sovereigns know that we've arrived?" asked Kyla.

Master Elwith did not slow his pace nor did he turn to answer. "They know that they're meeting with very distinguished individuals, but they don't know who specifically."

"Why haven't you told them? I would have thought you would want to prepare them for our meeting, especially considering who I am and who I brought with me."

"And what proof could I offer?" asked Master Elwith, voice even. "Put in their position, would you believe even a most trusted confidante with a story such as this. I hardly think Lord Domrae's father would have believed even his steward, if he came to him with such a tale, now, would he, milord?"