Dragon Rose(56)

I had never been in the east tower; there had been no reason. However, I knew to get there I must descend the steps from my suite all the way to the great corridor that bisected the ground floor of the castle. I had spied the steps leading up to that other tower on more than one occasion, and because of that I knew they were not locked off or otherwise inaccessible. It might be a little tricky to go all the way down and all the way back up without being seen, but I would have to trust that everyone in the castle would be occupied elsewhere. Certainly if I were one of the servants I’d be doing everything in my power to keep at tasks that required close proximity to one of the keep’s numerous hearths.

The air that greeted me as I left my rooms was so icy I wondered at the wisdom of my errand. But I had decided up on my course of action, and so I would not let mere discomfort dissuade me from it. Wrapping the scarf more tightly about my throat, I hurried down the stairs, trying to ignore the little puffs of white vapor that rose from my mouth and nose in the chill air.

As I had guessed—and hoped—no one was about. I made it to the base of the stairs without incident and then sprinted down the corridor to the east tower’s stairwell. After giving a quick, furtive glance about, I hastened up the stairs.

Of course the abandoned suite had to be located at the very top of the tower. Then again, the exertion helped to keep me warm. This part of the castle clearly had not been lived in for some time—although it was clean enough, and relatively free of cobwebs, I saw no tapestries or paintings, and even the sconces on the walls were bare of candles. I would have to be quick. Getting caught up here in the early dusk of late autumn did not seem very appealing.

At length I reached a landing outside a pair of double doors. Here was a window that let in some wan daylight, along with several icy drafts around its poorly caulked edges. No matter, as I did not intend to linger here.

I put my hand on the door handle, halfway expecting it to be locked. But it gave way easily enough, opening with a slow creak into a space dimly lit by several narrow casements. Like the steps leading to it, the place seemed clean enough, although it smelled faintly of dust and mildew.

Something about the stillness of the place made me want to hold my breath, to tiptoe through it. The furnishings were all covered in some sort of heavy green cloth, but the layout seemed similar to my own chambers—a front room with a divan and several tables, a bedchamber with a large canopied monstrosity and a few more small tables and chairs.

The main difference that I could see was a pair of large bookcases in the front room, built into the wall itself on either side of the hearth. Unlike the bookshelves in Theran’s rooms, these were sparsely populated, with only a few lonely volumes left on the lengths of polished oak. I wondered at that, for I would have thought all the books would be collected and brought to the lord of the castle’s chambers. Certainly they seemed too valuable to be left here, moldering. No doubt they were the source of the mildew smell.

Despite that, I found myself drawn to them. I moved closer to the shelf on the right and found nothing more ominous than a history of Farendon, along with a tome on the lives of the kings of the realm, and a geography of the continent.

“No wonder they were left here,” I murmured, as I replaced the geography—complete with mouse-eaten bindings—back on its shelf.

The left-hand shelf had a collection of slender volumes, and I found myself hoping that perhaps they were diaries. Surely something so personal would have been removed long ago, though. It turned out I was right, as the thin little books proved to be collections of poetry, and a single bound volume of Mardrake & Evlyn, a drama Lindell had once said was quite popular in the capital, although Lirinsholme hosted the traveling players who performed such things only once in my memory, and my parents had forbidden me to go.

Well, they weren’t here to forbid me now. I grasped the volume and pulled it from the shelf, intending to take it back with me so I could see for myself what was so scandalous about it.

But when I touched the binding, a sensation of such anguish, of such bleak despair, rose from it that I cried aloud and dropped the book. And as I did so, a small piece of paper folded over many times fell out from within its leaves.

Without thinking, I reached for it. As my fingers closed around the paper, more waves of agony seemed to rise from it to ripple up my arm. I gasped, but somehow I could not let go, and instead found myself opening the paper and reading its contents.

Just five words, repeated over and over, in letters so scrawling I had a hard time at first even making them out.

It has all turned black.

It has all turned black.

It has all turned black.

The cold seemed to hit me in a great crashing wave, as if I had been flung into the deepest snowbank in the garden. Then the paper fell from fingers too stiff to hold it, and it dropped onto the stone floor with a rustle like that of a dead leaf. I backed away, gasping, seeing my breath rise as great clouds of grey, an echo of the stormy skies outside.

I didn’t know then if the voice I heard came from without, or simply within my head.

Get out. Get out now!

No stopping to think. I turned on my heel and fled as if the dread wolves of legend had chased me from the chamber, pounding my way down the stairs until I was safely in the castle’s main corridor. Even then I didn’t pause, but ran toward the safety, however spurious, of my own chambers. Again, no one was around to question my mad dash through the castle, though the tray was gone when I did finally reach my suite. I flung myself inside and shut the door, then went to the hearth and sank down on the rug in front of it, trembling. I was sure I would never be warm again.