Opir she wasn’t quite so certain of. Her brother was generally sensible enough, but he had been known to miss an appointment or two. She looked worriedly down the street that dropped away steeply behind her, then realized she was looking north down the Old Coast Road, which was not a route Opir would use, any more than she had.
Then a metallic thumping sounded, and the heavy door swung open. Two more guards appeared in the opening, stepping out onto the pavement, blinking in the bright sun.
Behind them came Lady Nuvielle, attired in a gown like nothing Kilisha had ever seen before. This was not the velvet dress she wore when going about the city on business, a dress that had impressed Kilisha as exceptionally beautiful; no, this was what she wore at home, when she had no need to worry about dusty streets or adventurous thieves.
It was made in layers-an outer layer of fine white lace and gold filigree over a dress of blue silk, and here and there the silk was slashed dramatically to reveal a golden lining. Kilisha could not help staring at this elaborate garment.
Kelder, she noticed, was staring, as well-but not at the dress, exactly. She felt a twinge of jealousy.
She silently chastised herself; she was taking that dream too seriously. Kelder had every right to admire a beautiful woman.
Adagan seemed unimpressed with Nuvielle’s appearance; he bowed, belatedly reminding Kilisha of her own manners. “My lady,” she said as she curtsied.
“Kilisha,” Nuvielle said. “I’m pleased to see you; do come in! And introduce me to your companions.”
Kilisha rose, and took a last desperate glance down Fortress Street, and saw Opir hurrying toward them.
“This is Kelder, one of your tax collectors,” Kilisha said. “He was the one who was at the door when the spell went awry.”
Kelder bowed. “Kelder Goran’s son of Sixth Company, my lady.”
Kilisha was pleased she had remembered that name from when Kelder had given it to the Fortress guard a few days earlier; without the patronymic she could not have invoked the Spell of Invaded Dreams, since there were so many Kelder in the World. She smiled at him at the memory of that dream. But Lady Nuvielle was waiting, so Kilisha turned and said, “And this is Adagan the Witch, one of my neighbors. He and Kelder have been aiding me in the search for the missing couch, and have agreed to help me capture it and carry it home.”
“Kilisha!” Opir called, as he came trotting up. “And my brother, Opir of Eastgate,” Kilisha said. “Opir, this is Nuvielle, Lady Treasurer, who has found my master’s couch.” Opir bowed hastily.
“And is this everyone, then?” Nuvielle asked. “Yes, my lady,” Kilisha said.
“You know, I would have assigned a few guardsmen to carry the couch for you, had you asked.”
“Oh.” Kilisha felt her cheeks grow warm. “I hadn’t thought of... I wouldn’t want to trouble you, my lady. The couch is my responsibility.”
Nuvielle turned up an empty palm. “In any case, you’re all here now,” she said. “Come inside, and I will show you the way.” She turned and strode into the dim interior.
Kilisha followed, mentally cursing herself. Of course Lady Nuvielle would have provided soldiers! She was the Lady Treasurer, the overlord’s aunt-she must have a hundred guards and servants ready to tend to her every whim. Just because she had come to a wizard’s shop unattended did not mean she could not summon a dozen strong men in an instant in her own home; it wouldn’t have cost her a thing.
And here Kilisha had brought three assorted strangers along uninvited, not just into the Fortress, but to the overlord’s own apartments. She had wanted to be prepared, and to plan everything out in advance for once, but that was no reason to forgo common courtesy. She needed to use common sense, as well as plan ahead! She was glad that the light in the stone passageway was dim and cool, so that her flushed cheeks would be less noticeable, and she could attribute their color to stepping in out of the bright sun. She marched on silently, not trusting herself to say anything more. After a slight hesitation, Kelder and Opir and Adagan followed the two women inside. The two guards who had accompanied the Lady Treasurer then brought up the rear, closing the doors behind them, leaving the outside guards to resume their vigil.
Kilisha’s upset at her own foolishness was sufficient that she had gone a dozen yards down the passage before she realized that she was inside the Fortress for the first time in her life, and she really ought to pay attention to her surroundings. She might never have another chance to see the interior of the overlord’s stronghold.
Nuvielle was leading the party down a stone corridor, broad enough for Kilisha’s three helpers to walk abreast without crowding, but still far taller than it was wide. Kilisha looked up to see an arched stone ceiling perhaps fifteen or twenty feet above her.
The stone was surprisingly plain. Kilisha knew that the Fortress had been built during the Great War as a bastion against the Northern Empire, and of course she had seen the unadorned exterior often enough, but she had still expected the interior of the overlord’s home to display at least some of the trappings of wealth and power. After all, the overlord and his family had had more than two centuries to make improvements.
This corridor, though, was bare-no carvings, no tapestries or other hangings, no carpets. The stone blocks in the walls were square and unpolished, the corners not even rounded, and the joints in the masonry clearly visible. The few doors they passed were heavy oak planking bound in black iron, dark with age but uncarved and unpainted. The only sign of wealth was the numerous oil lamps that lit the passage; these were large and bright, and wrought of brass and crystal. Kilisha assumed they were not the wartime originals, but a later addition-for one thing, they didn’t match the plain black iron brackets on which they hung.
Then Lady Nuvielle turned a corner and led them up a stone staircase, likewise straight and unadorned; sunlight trickled in faintly from an unseen window somewhere ahead and above.
They ascended two stories and emerged into another corridor, narrower than the previous one and with a ceiling no more than twelve feet high. Here, at last, the Fortress began to look less like a dungeon-the floor and walls were still plain gray stone, but a strip of lush red and brown carpet ran along the passage, and a few tapestries hung between doors that had been painted with bright floral designs.
Nuvielle led them down the passage, through a salon that was far more in keeping with Kilisha’s expectations, along a side passage, and around a corner into an anteroom.
There she stopped dead, evidently surprised by the presence of four guards. Kilisha almost walked into her. The others had left a little more space, and halted without crowding each other-but by the time Nuvielle’s own guards entered, the antechamber was rather full. The room was not especially large.
The four guards, standing two on either side of an elaborately carved pair of doors, had been chatting idly; at the sight of the treasurer they snapped to attention and thumped the butts of their spears on the stone floor. Kilisha blinked at them, noticing that their uniforms were much cleaner and better-made than Kelder’s, and that their spears and breastplates were wonderfully polished. Two of the four wore unfamiliar golden insignia on their right arms.