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d a way up to one of the upper windows。 The stones of the walls were heavy and crudely set： climbing holds should not be too difficult to find。
He ducked into the shelter of the gatehouse and paused for a moment to look at the black timbers of the front doors。 They were indeed massive…Simon guessed that even men with axes would not penetrate them in anything less than half a day。 Testing； he grasped one of the massive door handles and pulled。 The right side door swung out silently； startling Simon so that he stumbled backward； out into the thin rain。
The doors were open…unlocked！ For a moment he wanted only to run； certain it was a trap set just for him； but as he stopped； hands raised as though to ward off a blow； he realized that was unlikely。 Or perhaps there were more certain protections inside。。。 ？
Simon hesitated a moment longer； his heart rattling。
Don't he a fool。 Either go in or stay out。 Don't stand around in the middle of everything waiting to be noticed by someone。
He clenched his fists and stepped through； then pulled the door shut behind him。
There was no need yet for the torch in his belt； which he had refurbished with oil from one of Green Angel Tower's storage rooms； one already burned in a bracket on the wall of the high antechamber； making shadows shiver in the ers。 Simon could not help wondering who had lit it； but quickly dismissed the useless thought： he could only begin looking； try to move quietly； and listen for anyone else who might be in Hjeldin's Tower with him。
He walked across the antechamber； dismayed by the loud hiss his boot soles made rubbing on the stone。 Stairs led upward along one wall to the highest； darkest parts of the tower。 They would have to wait。
So many doors！ Simon chose one and opened it gently。 The torchlight bleeding in from the antechamber revealed a room filled entirely with furnishings made from bones that had been tied and glued together； including one large chair which had； as if in mockery of the High King's throne； an awning made entirely from skulls…human skulls。 Many of the bones still had bits of dark dry flesh stuck to them。 From somewhere in the room came the fizzing chirp of what sounded like a cricket。 Simon felt his stomach rising into his throat and hurriedly shut the
door。
When he had recovered a little he took his own brand and lit it from the wall torch。 If he was really going to look for the sword； he would have to be able to see even into the dark corners； no matter what he might find there。
He went back to the bone room； but further inspection turned up nothing but the dreadful furnishings； an incredible array of bones。 Simon hoped some of them were animal bones； but doubted it。 The insistent buzz of the cricket drove him out once more。
The next chamber was filled wall to wall with tubs covered by stretched nets。 Things Simon could not quite make out slithered and splashed in dark fluid； from time to time a slippery back or an oddly…terminated appendage pushed against the netting until it bulged upward。 In another room Simon found thousands of tiny silvery figures of men and women； each carved with amazing accuracy and realism： each little statue was a perfect representation of a person frozen in a position of fear or despair。 When Simon lifted one of them； the shiny metal felt slippery and strangely warm against his skin。 A moment later； he dropped it and backed quickly out of the room。 He was sure he had felt it squirm in his grip。
Simon made his way from one room to the next； continuously disturbed by what he found； sometimes by the sheer unpleasantness of the priest's possessions； sometimes by their inprehensibility。 The last room on the ground floor contained a few bones as well； but they were far too large to belong to anything human。 They were boiling in a great vat that hung above an oil flame； filling the damp room with a powerful but unrecognizable stink。 Viscous black fluid ran in oozing drops from a spigot on the vat's side into a wide stone bowl。 The fetid steam swirling up made Simon's head reel and the scar on his cheek sting。 A quick search discovered no trace of the sword； and he retreated gratefully to the relatively clean air outside。
After hesitating a moment； he climbed the stairs to the next level。 There was undoubtedly more to be discovered beneath the tower； down in its catabs…but Simon was in no hurry to do that。 He would put such a search off for last； and pray that he found the sword before then。
A room full of glass beakers and retorts much like things Morgenes had possessed； a chamber whose walls and ceiling were draped with inordinately thick spiderwebs…his search of that one was brief and perfunctory…another which seemed an indoor jungle full of trailing vines and fat； rotting blossoms； Simon passed through them all； feeling more and more like some peasant boy from a story who had entered a witch's magicalcastle。 Some of the chambers had contents so dreadful he could do no more than peer for a moment into the shadowed interior before shoving the door closed again。 There were some things he simply could not force himself to do： if the sword was in one of these rooms； it would have to remain unrescued。
One room that did not at first seem so dreadful held only a single small cot； oddly woven from a mesh of leather straps。 At first he thought this might be the place Pryrates slept 。。。 until he saw the hole in the stone floor and the stains beneath the cot。 He left quickly； shuddering。 He didn't think he could spend much longer in this place and keep his sanity。
On the fifth floor of the priest's storehouse of nightmares； Simon hesitated。 This was the level at which the great red windows were set： if he moved from room to room with his torch； it was quite possible someone elsewhere in the keep might notice the moving flicker of light in what should be an empty tower。 After some consideration； he set his torch in one of the high brackets on the wall。 He would have to search in near…darkness； Simon realized； but he had spent enough time below ground that he thought he might be better suited for that than almost anyone except a Sitha 。。。 or a Norn。
Only three chambers opened off the landing。 The first was another featureless room with a cot； although this one had no drain in the floor。 Simon had no problem believing that this was indeed Pryrates' sleeping place： something in the stark emptiness of the room seemed appropriate。 Simon could picture the black…eyed priest lying on his back staring up into nothing； plotting。 There was also a privy； a strangely natural possession for someone so unnatural。
The second chamber was some sort of reliquary。 The entire room was lined with shelves； and every inch of shelf space was taken up by statues。 These were not all of a type； like the silver figurines on the first floor； but all shapes and sizes； some that looked like saint's icons； others lopsided wooden fetishes that might have been carved by children or lunatics。 It was fascinating； in a way。 Had Simon not felt the terror of this strange tower all around him； the incredible risk he was taking just bein