Page 4 of Ice Magic

“Okay, get hold of yourself,” I said. The sound of my voice made things seem much less eerie. “First, am Iabsolutely positivethe bars are strong?” Maybe I missed one.

I began examining the bars again, looking for just one that might be loose, but they were all tight. Finding no breach in the bedroom level, I closed the shutters and moved down to the kitchen level. I set a hanging pot of water over the fire and then checked the bars on the window there. Again, no luck.

While the water heated, I dashed up to the fourth level. Again, the bars were firm. Returning to the kitchen, I made some tea and heated up the stew from the night before. That, along with a chunk of bread, served for breakfast. As I ate, I thought about my predicament.

I couldn’t squeeze through the bars. So, once again, I turned to the door leading to the first floor. I tried everything I could think of, but it was securely locked from the other side.

Okay, so I was stuck. What else could I try? If this was a well-traveled area, I could wait for someone to pass by and yell at them from the window. But as far as I could tell, I was out in themiddle of nowhere. This was as bad as being stuck out on the sea would be without wind for the sails.

As the hints of panic began to rise again, I realized that Ihadto keep occupied, or I’d spiral and that wouldn’t help anything. As I washed my dishes with hot water and a cloth, I looked at the gleaming kitchen knife. There were several large enough to tackle cutting a chicken apart, and as I held one in my hand, I thought that perhaps when Karehl returned, I could hide it in my skirts and attack him when he let down his guard.

“Speaking of skirts…” I jogged up the stairs to the bedroom to look for the warmest outfit I could find, on the off chance I could manage to escape. I stoked the fire, then began to sort through the clothes. There weren’t a lot of them, but enough to tell that Karehl was planning on keeping me here for at least several months.

All the dresses were flimsy, made for looks, not for practicality. I frowned, holding up a particularly revealing dress. These must be castoffs from his wife. They looked like something Charla would wear. But finally, I found one dress tucked in the back that seemed sturdier and warmer than the others. I also discovered a sewing kit in the wardrobe. With some work, I could turn the dress into a pair of coveralls. The skirt was voluminous enough to sew up the middle. It wouldn’t fit quite right and it wouldn’t be pretty, but it would do the job. I could line the skirt with a skirt from another dress first, and then wear several camisoles beneath the dress to pad the top for warmth.

“It’s not like I have anything else to do,” I said, staring at them. I pulled the rocking chair over to the window and, keeping it open for light, I wrapped a throw around me and began to adapt the dress.

After a while, I reached my limit for the cold and closed the shutters. I had finished sewing the second skirt to the firstto line it, and now I could cut the skirt in half and stitch them to produce trouser legs. At least the sewing kit had plenty of thread and everything I needed. I had no clue how much time had passed, but when I peeked out of the shutters, the sun had crossed midpoint in the sky and was on its way down. My stomach rumbling, I sliced some smoked game, slapped it between a roll I cut open, added some cheese, and then picked up an apple. After eating, I stoked the fire in the bedroom.

“I’m going to go nuts here. It’s one thing to be on my own when I’m out in the wilds with Yaran. It’s another when I’m stuck by myself.” I was tired of working on the outfit, and since it didn’t look like I was going anywhere soon, I decided to take a break and see what books were in the library.

As I carried a lamp up the stairs, I wondered who had built the tower. It didn’t seem to be built in the same style as Castle Eleago, or even from the same materials. It felt old—there was nothing to suggest when it had been built, but all buildings had a sense to them, and this whispered to me that it was very old, from a long time before any of us were born. The stones of the tower were weathered and rounded, a lot of the jagged edges long gone. My guess would be that the prince had found the tower and decided to make use of it. It would be the perfect stop if a storm was coming and he was too far from the castle to make it back before the snows stopped him.

As I entered the library and built up the fire, it occurred to me that, if I could be free to come and go, this would be the perfect place to live. It was protected from the elements, complete within itself, and would withstand assaults from anybody who wanted inside.

I settled down at the desk, relaxing in the upholstered chair. Curious, I began nosing through the drawers. There was blank paper, a couple quills and several ink bottles. There were also a couple of folded messages in the back of one of the drawers,and I withdrew them. They had been sealed at one time, but the seals were broken. I glanced at their contents.

The first one read:

His Majesty will visit you on the day after tomorrow. Be prepared for him, and you may be rewarded with a walk about the grounds. He will expect his usual dinner. If you are on your menses, tell the guard immediately so that plans may be changed.

I stared at what I assumed was the royal seal from Eleago. So, I wasn’t the first woman to be held in this tower. I wondered why Karehl kept certain women out here, rather than in the castle, given Charla knew about his wandering eye. Then, remembering that she wanted him to kill me, it occurred to me that maybe he kept the women here whom she hated, to either avoid antagonizing her, or to keep us safe from her.

That brought me to wondering how long he kept each woman he’d imprisoned here. How long would it take him to tire of me? And then, would he set me free, or sacrifice me in order to remove any evidence of my existence?

I glanced at the second message, but it was almost a carbon copy of the first one. The dates were almost two years apart, but there was nothing on either note to indicate whether they were sent to the same woman. I tucked them into the back of the desk, sobering. If it had been the same woman, she’d been locked out here for two years, alone. What had happened to her? And what if she got pregnant? Would he let her survive, let alone the child?

I began to search the bookcases, looking for anything that might give me more answers. The stories were old tales, ones that seemed standard throughout the People of the Snow.There were a couple history books as well, and several tales of adventurers who had ventured out into the world. They all looked tattered and old. I noticed one in particular, titledTravels Through The Southlands. It had an ink stain on the spine, an odd check mark. I reached for it. While I didn’t feel particularly interested in the subject, I suddenly wanted to look at it.

As I placed my fingers on the top and tried to slide it out from between the other books, I heard a click. The book slid backward, the bottom still touching the shelf, and the next thing I knew, the entire panel of shelves slowly began to swing into the room.

“What the?—?”

I jumped back to avoid being hit by the swinging door. It slowly creaked open, exposing a staircase. My heart began to thud. The stairwell was dark, and seemed to circle against the outside wall. I looked around and then dragged a heavy side table over to prop open the door. I didn’t want it shutting on me while I explored the staircase, and then not be able to get out. After making certain the door was securely open, I picked up one of the lamps and began to descend the staircase.

The stairwell was narrow, and once or twice I had to stop to brush away cobwebs. I saw the remains of spiderwebs, but it was too cold for them to live—and there were no flying bugs to trap for their dinner at this time of year. I brushed them away, watching the lamp to make sure it stayed lit. Lack of air could extinguish flames and I didn’t want to get myself in a worse situation.

I followed the stairs, circling downward. By my estimate, I was nearing the bedroom level. Sure enough, I saw the outline of a door against the wall. I stopped on the narrow landing and tried to find a way to open it from the inside. And sure enough, I found a small lever. I pressed it and found myself staring atthe inside of the armoire. So, if there was a secret panel on the fourth floor, and the third, there should be one on the kitchen level. But most important: Would there be a hidden entrance on the bottom floor, and could I use it to escape?

As I started down the stairs again, I decided that there was no way Karehl had actually built this tower. He wouldn’t keep prisoners in it if he knew about the secret entrance. So he had found it, but hadn’t bothered to fully explore every inch of it.

On the kitchen level, the entrance was in the pantry, which made sense. Holding my breath, I turned back to the staircase. Sure enough, the steps led still farther down. I hurried down to the bottom, where I found a door. It was carved from the stone so it didn’t stand out. I pushed against it and, to my relief, it opened a little, pushing against the knee-deep snow. I couldn’t open it fully, but the crack was large enough for me to slip outside, if I held my breath.

I knew that I couldn’t run off yet—not without proper clothing and supplies. As I began to close the secret entrance, I glanced down at the snow. The disturbance was obvious, since the door had pushed against it. If Karehl returned before the next snowstorm, he would be able to see that something had gone on.

“I have to hurry,” I said, glancing at the sky. The clouds were socking in, and I could smell snow in the offing. Chances were, Karehl wouldn’t return tonight, so I decided to take the risk and I shut the door, then hurried back up to the library level. As I closed the secret passage, I noted which book I’d pulled to open the panel.

I sat down to think. Traversing the outdoors would be problematic without a horse, but I had no choice. He had taken Yaran with him. Swearing, I grabbed up the dress and began to work on it again, trying to hurry as fast as I could without making many mistakes. I stopped for a bite to eat when mystomach rumbled, but otherwise, I kept up the work throughout the evening and long into the night.

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