“Ah, right—the fire god,” Raettonus said, nodding. “I was used to seeing him depicted as made of fire.”
“That’s the elves’ vision of him,” the centaur said. “If you’d please, Magician—there’s still quite a way to walk.”
“Yes, all right,” Raettonus said, and they resumed their trek through the fortress.
The Kaebha Citadel was deathly quiet, but with the faint ticking of a clock in some unseen place echoing through it. Raettonus found it peaceful. It was a place without ghosts wandering through it in great, writhing herds.
Raettonus’ room was up high in a tower which, thankfully, didn’t look out on the ocean. Two tapestries hung on the walls—one depicting Ryahnrish’s erection of the citadel, and the other showing Daebrish driving the vampires into the Koa Kurok desert. A bronze brazier sat in one corner, unlit, beside a large bed with a heavy wooden frame. There was a desk and a bookshelf which had been filled with his dusty, worn books. Raettonus scowled at the order the soldiers had put them in as he set his backpack down on the desk.
“Is everything to your liking?” Daeblau asked. “I can get a fire started if you’d like—”
“No, it’s fine,” said Raettonus, waving him away. “Back to your duties, sir.”
“Sleep well, Magician,” said the centaur with a bow. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.
Raettonus lay down on the bed, which was lower to the ground than he would’ve liked, and also big enough to comfortably fit at least four grown men larger than himself. Brecan hopped into the bed beside him. “I like Daeblau,” he said, resting his jaw across Raettonus’ stomach. Raettonus pushed his head away, only for the unicorn to resettle it across his chest instead. “He’s a nice guy. He gave me half a sparrow on one of the trips I made down here with your books.”
Raettonus pushed the unicorn’s heavy head off himself again. “You have bad breath,” he muttered. “Did I say you could get up here?”
“I wonder what the general’s like?” Brecan said, rolling over onto his side. He twitched his long, thin tail slowly to and fro.
“We’ll see tomorrow,” Raettonus said, closing his eyes. “If I sleep past eight, wake me. I mean it too. If you don’t wake me up I’m going to snap off that horn of yours and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Brecan blinked. “Where doesn’t the sun shine, Raet?” he asked. “Is this a riddle? I’m no good at riddles. Is it in forests? Does the sun not shine in forests? Oh, but that’s not right—there’s sun between the leaves. Hm…”
Raettonus sighed and went to sleep.
* * *
His dream was vivid, far more vivid than it had any right to be. He was standing at the entrance of a temple of some sort, built on a bluff overlooking many other weedy bluffs. Beside him a shallow, square, marble pool shone in the moonlight, reflecting the clear night sky. He knelt beside it, looking at his reflection—a thin-lipped, high-cheeked man of twenty-six with pale red eyes. It was the same as it ever was. Always twenty-six…
He stood and looked toward the temple. It was a large, clean building made of white stone polished until it gleamed like bleached bone. The architecture looked very classical to Raettonus’ eyes, with wide steps leading up from all directions and ornately carved pillars supporting the portico. As he ascended the stairs, he found the wide, open doorway covered only with a white silken hanging. He pushed it aside and entered the temple.
The inside was richly decorated in any manner thinkable—murals, paintings, tapestries, weapons, sculptures, carvings into the stone itself. Raettonus walked along slowly, looking at everything, but not really taking in the details, until he reached an enormous chamber. A jade throne stood sentry on the other end of the room. Wearily, Raettonus approached it, moving his hand down to his waist to grip the hilt of his rapier only to find that it wasn’t there.
From the throne, an elf in flowing white robes watched him. His face was obscured by a mask, but Raettonus could see his eyes through it, glowing yellow. His wrists and waist and the ankles of his bare feet were wrapped in beads of many colors and decorative chains of gold, and copper, and silver. Long, white hair fell across his shoulders, a few strands of it caught upon his teardrop shaped ears. As he approached, Raettonus felt the masked elf’s