16
Yseult
Ivar led me back into the castle, down halls that twisted and turned until I despaired of ever finding my way back to any room I knew. The mage might well use magic to keep the halls of his home too confusing for guests to memorize. A labyrinth, another layer of defense.
At last we came to a great marble entrance. The air was softer here, humid. Our footsteps echoed.
“In here,” Ivar stepped aside and let me go first. I gasped at the long pool set in the middle of the room, surrounded by pillars and tiled walls. High, high above the pool, windows just under the great vaulted ceiling let in a little light. Swirls of color drew my eye, murals rivaling any picture I’d ever seen.
“This is beautiful,” I gasped.
“Very beautiful,” he smiled, but he seemed more pleased to watch me.
