Page 59 of The Trials of Alaric
The room inside was unexpected. Alaric’s first impression was of a blaze of color, but that was a reaction to the grey stone he had seen all the way from the ground. As his mind adjusted, the bewildering chaos resolved into tapestries, carpets, drapes, furnishings. The watch room had become a bedchamber.
No. More than a bedchamber, for a large desk resided under one window, and comfortable seats beckoned from near the fireplace. In which a fire was laid, awaiting only a flame.
It was a luxurious medieval fantasy of a room.
“My,” said Bea from beside him. “I had no idea.”
“Was that the hidden door?” Ellie asked. “And if so, where is the secret gold?”
“The door wasn’t hidden,” Alaric pointed out. “Just locked. Also, the verse says doors, not door. But the key let us enter the room, so we must be in the right place.”
“Are you meant to sleep here?” Eloise wondered.
It was possible. “I think the uneasy sleep was about finding the keys, but I cannot be certain.”
“Let us search,” Luke suggested. “Hidden doors could be under any tapestry or behind drapes. Even in the furniture.”
“Search carefully,” Bea warned, lifting the nearest tapestry to peer behind it. “This must be Papa’s retreat. We don’t want to damage anything.”
It was Luke who found it. He drew the drapes for more light and disclosed a large window on the seaward side of the tower. Here, eight floors up and on the edge of an eight-hundred-foot cliff, the builders had not been concerned about stray arrows orsiege engines, or even the structural integrity of the tower since they were right at the top.
Instead, their aim had been the best possible view of the sea, and all six searchers stopped to stare out over the ocean. They had to step right into the window embrasure to do so. A wooden frame had been built to jut out over the cliff, allowing a watcher to see down the cliff to the waves breaking below and to both sides, as well as so far ahead that, in the far distance, a soft misty shape against the sky was very possibly Wales.
Heavily carved paneling lined the embrasure, and a window seat had been built under the bay of the window frame. Alaric could imagine reclining there, on the colorful cushions, dreaming as he looked out to sea.
The paneling and seat were not recent, Alaric thought. The wood was dark with centuries of polish, and to his eye, the carving looked Tudor, or perhaps earlier.
“There are cupboards under the window seat,” Luke commented. “I’ll check those.”
Reminded of their goal, the others returned to their search, until Luke called, “Alaric! Come and look at this.”
Luke was kneeling on the window seat and had piled the cushions behind him, so the carved panels were laid bare down to the wood of the seat. “I’ve found several cupboards that weren’t obvious,” Luke explained, waving an airy hand at a couple of open doors. “But once I realized they were there, I opened them easily enough. Nothing inside. But look.”
He ran the tip of his finger down the paneling in a straight line, and Alaric could see it. A crack. But the wood was old and probably dry. Dry wood cracked. Luke moved his finger back to the top of the crack, stretching to do so, and ran it in a straight line toward the window. Alaric’s interest sharpened. And when Luke, without taking his finger from the wood, dropped it down in another straight line, he was almost convinced.
“How do we open it?” he asked, examining the carving for something that looked like a handle.
“I’ve tried to twist, push, or slide all the knobs I can find,” Luke told him. “I don’t think that’s it. I think it is locked, Luke, and one of these holes in the pattern will take your key.”
By now, the others had gathered around. “Try it,” Bea said.
The first two holes were not deep enough, but in the third hole, the second largest key met with a brief resistance and then turned. They waited. The panel remained stubbornly shut. Luke tried the knob—it was a carved rose—closest to the lock and this time, it turned. Still, the panel did not open.
They stared at the paneling in disappointment, no one looking more crestfallen than Luke.
“That should have worked,” he complained.
“Doors,” said Tarquin. “Alaric, you said it. The verse says doors. And look!” He traced a rectangle that shared a long side with the first. It extended beyond the window seat toward the room, but it definitely looked like a door. Or as much like a door as the first had.
Alaric looked at his remaining key.
“Too small,” said Bea. “Try the same one again.”
He looked up into her eyes and saw the same excitement in them that he felt. Then he tried the second key. This time, he found the correct hole on the first try, judging it by the position of the other. He stepped back to let Luke turn the rose on that door, and both doors popped open.
“The hidden doors,” Luke said, unnecessarily.
The cupboard was empty. Alaric could not have described the depths of his disappointment, and from his friends came a chorus of sighs.
