The stairs went down then around then back on you and down some more then up some. Tizbeth wondered if she was mile underground or if sunlight was just a hand’s breath away. She paused looked up the next flight. Lit with only a few magic torches, Tizbeth couldn’t tell it the rough stones were brown or gray. What are you doing? her mother’s voice echoed in her head. You are as useless as that elf said. Why bother? Tizbeth heard her mother’s voice. I am taking control of my destiny, as little as it may be, it is mine now. Tizbeth straighten up and began to climb once more. Still the stairs and the doubts went on. She was hungry; she was thirsty. Tizbeth, give up and go home her mother’s voice was clear as if the perfect Sofria was at her side instead of all the way back in Spilt Tree. …show more content…
There was a decomposing body…without a head. Around the next corner, Tizbeth stood at the opening of a cavernous room lit by a fire pit. Tapestries hung on the wall that had images on them, something that sound like stories about the highland elfin king. There was a giant weaving loom and several book shelves. She rose the knife, for the attack that had to come.
On the far side was a giant four poster bed with a woman lounging on it. Tizbeth could make out bare arms and legs. She rose, revealing that she wore a golden tunic the covered her from breast to buttock, but the clothes increased her sexuality more than damping it. The clothes were tight and moved like skin with her. She swung up, holding the poster but paused when she saw Tizbeth there. “A woman,” she paused. “No one has ever sent a woman to face