Kharienthe fell to the ground in a heap of ragged cloth and tangled hair. The journey to Shayol Ghul had been long and arduous. The hounds killed and ate, and Khar was forced to eat what they provided; raw meat, often human. She had crept into a cabin one night and stolen a knife so that she could take meat from Daghain's kills that had not been touched by his toxic saliva. She had lost track, but she thought it might have been a month since she had been collected in the wood outside her mother's cottage. There was no moon in Shayol Ghul, so it was difficult to know.
"Stand up."
The voice which spoke was cold as ice and dark as shadow. Khar slowly sorted out which way was up, and then climbed to her feet, clinging to Daghain's fur for support. It was a myrdraal who had spoken, and his eyeless gaze was directed at Khar. It was strange; she had always thought that myrdraal would be frightening. This one merely watched her, and she watched him back. She was Sar Sara sa a'Cor, companion of Daghain Daemar. Who would dare challenge her? She waited in silence for further instruction, a fey smile on her thin, dirt-streaked face.
"Go through that door," he told her after a moment, nodding at a grey stone door off to Khar's left. "You will be seen shortly. Leave the hound outside."
Kharienthe looked at Daghain then, questioning. To leave him outside like a common beast? She stepped around in front of him to look into his quicksilver eyes.
Go, little one. I will still be here, and we can hear each other even when separated. Go inside.
Khar nodded and stepped through the door. The room inside was small, but quite comfortably furnished. And empty. A few candles provided dim light, and the polished fruitwood furniture glowed in the soft illumination. She sat down to wait on a silk-upholstered settee, wondering which of the three doors someone would enter through.