Page 19 of North Is the Night
I’m awake.
This is my body, arms and legs weighed down by heavy blankets. I blink my eyes open, turning my head to either side. I’m in the middle of a large bed, toasty warm under a pile of furs. I’ve never slept in a proper bed before, not one built on a wooden frame, raised off the floor. I sit up, the furs slipping down around my waist. I’m in a strange room. The bed sits in the middle of one wall, the frame hung with thick curtains. On the far side of the room, a hearth glows with a welcoming fire. To either side of the hearth are two small, shuttered windows. The only other furnishings in the room are a small wooden table and a single chair.
I wrap one of the furs around my shoulders and slip my feet out the side of the bed, and my bare toes touch the cold, wood-planked floor. Why are my feet bare? The last thing I remember, I was wearing socks and my thick boots. I unfold the fur from around my shoulders and look down. My sturdy woolen dress is gone. Now, I’m in a white gown. The neckline is cut into a V, and the gown falls in folds to my ankles. It feels soft against my skin, but the feeling doesn’t soothe me. Someone had to strip me naked to clothe me.
Is this still a dream?
I pinch my arm and wince. Nothing else happens.
“I’m awake,” I murmur.
Moving over to the door on soft feet, I lift the latch and give it a little push. The door doesn’t budge. I rattle the latch again and push with my shoulder, but the door is locked. My chest tightens as I fight my growing panic. What would Siiri do?
Find a way out.
I drag the chair beneath a window and glance up, measuring the distance. It will be a difficult climb, but fear and courage pulse through me in equal measure. I step up onto the chair and pull the shutters inward. Cool night air blasts inside, making the fire spark. I tip up onto my toes and can only just peek out over the sill. It’s a rare moonless night, not a star in the sky. The same night from my dreams? From this angle, I can’t quite see the ground. Are there other houses close by? A forest? A lake?
Taking a deep breath, I pull up with all my might, scrambling to find a foothold with my bare feet. My right foot slips, and I cry out. I sink down to the chair but miss, dropping to the floor with a clatter, jarring my elbow painfully. “Ow, ow, ow.” A large splinter sticks out of my heel. I carefully pull it loose, grimacing as I set it aside. Blood flows freely from the wound.
Try again, you fool.
I let Siiri’s voice in my head give me strength.
Stop crying and get up. Don’t die in this room, and don’t wait for your captor to find you.
I climb back onto the chair and jump, pulling my head and shoulders towards the ledge. It’s working this time. I’m nearly there. I’m—
“Ahhh, it’s hot!”
I screech in pain, dropping back to the chair. Heart racing, I look down at my aching hands. My palms are bright red, as if I’d just wrapped them around a burning log. The red color fades, my palms returning to normal. I inspect the area where the splinter pierced my heel. The skin is smooth. No blood, no pain. I glance back up at the sill, my panic rising. I can’t get out. This room is my cage.
I slam the window shut. Turning away, I gasp in fright, both hands clutching my chest. Moments before, the table had been empty. Now, it contains a jug and a tray of barley bread. The smell of the bread makes me salivate. How long has it been since my last meal?
I pad on cold feet over to the table. The golden tray holding the bread glistens in the firelight. I pick up the jug first and sniff its contents. Just water. The moment I touch it, a cup appears next to the golden tray. I set the jug aside to examine the cup. It’s made of horn, but the bottom is gilded, finely etched in a feathered pattern. I’ve never seen ornamentation so delicate on such a simple object. I pour myself a cupful of the cold water and down it in a gulp, already feeling a little better.
Setting the cup aside, I reach for a loaf of barley bread, my stomach growling. I take a bite and hold back a moan of pleasure. This is the softest, most finely milled bread I’ve ever tasted. With my eyes closed, I feel like I’m standing in the field where the barley was grown. I can feel the sun warming my cheeks. It’s truly magical. If I reached out my hands, would they touch the bristled tops of the barley?
As soon as I swallow the bread, the sensation ends. I take another bite and gag, choking on the taste of slick, pungent mold. I spit out the piece in my mouth, looking down to inspect the rest. It looks like a perfectly normal loaf of bread.
Two other loaves wait on the golden tray. I set the moldy-
tasting bread down and take up another loaf. That first bite is even more exquisite. Tears fill my eyes as I swallow the delicious morsel. But then I take another bite and gag, the foul taste of rot once more filling my senses. I set the bread aside, too afraid to try the third loaf. If I only get one bite, I’ll have to wait. I don’t know when I’ll be fed again.
Suppressing a shiver, I glance over at the bed. The pile of furs waits for me, enough to keep me warm in this strange place.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My heart races as I look to the high window. Someone’s out there. Someone’s tapping at my window. Slowly, I take a step forward. A raven’s plaintive caw breaks the oppressive silence, and I let out a shaky breath. It quickly morphs into a nervous laugh.
There’s a raven on my windowsill.
I hurry over and pull open the shutter. The handsome raven ruffles his feathers and clicks his large beak, turning his head from side to side. One of his eyes is clouded and white, like a little full moon. The other is black as night. The black eye holds my gaze, and he caws loudly, clicking his beak again.
“Hello there,” I whisper, taking a step back.
The sharp talons on his scaly black toes scratch against the sill as he hops back and forth, still glancing around. Will the magic of this room keep him out, just as it keeps me in?
“Are you hungry, friend? Would you like some bread? I have plenty to spare.” Stepping over to the table, I pick up one of the loaves and tear off a small piece. The raven follows my every movement. He’s easily twice the size of a normal raven, almost the size of an eagle. He watches me with that curious, unblinking eye. I rise up on tiptoe and set the piece of bread on the sill. “Here you go, friend.”
