The only sound was her own heartbeat in her ears.
She stepped farther in, looking around. This wasn’t the door she’d bolted through. To the best of her memory, that had led to a hall. This one opened on to a huge kitchen, with two huge hearths and long tables for the work.
But what stopped her were the dishes set out, as if for supper, and the kettles hanging over cold hearths. Dust-covered spoons in bowls, and cloths tossed on the tables, as if just thrown by someone in haste. Something had happened here, something in mid-meal.
Fascinated, Warna stepped further in, but the sunlight only went so far. The deeper darkness beyond the next door pulled at her.
She checked the mantel, finding a small copper lamp, the kind used to keep a flame handy for lighting fires. She found flint and steel, and tinder besides, neat as a pin, as if waiting to be used.
She struck a spark, adjusted the wick, took up the tiny light and ventured further into the darkness.
The archway led to a long hall, stretching out to her left and right. Warna paused, hesitating for a moment. The idea of getting lost in a huge keep with a tiny lamp did not appeal to her at all.
But curiosity gnawed at her.
She noticed the dust, thick on the floor. The hallway was white marble, with a heavy carpet down the center. She took a few steps, leaving a clear trail. She could use that to guide her.
She lifted the lamp higher, trying to peer down the hall. There were doorways off to the sides, and there’d be stairs at some point. The lower levels would be dark, but a few floors up those glorious windows would let in the sun.
So, she’d treat it like a maze. Always follow the right wall, leave a trail in the dust, and head up at the first chance.
That odd feeling was back, a cold lump in her chest. She bit her lip for a moment and then it hit her, bringing a well of grief.
It had been so long since she’d done anything for pleasure.
Since losing her family, her home, all that she’d done was concentrate on survival. Doing what had to be done. This felt wrong, somehow.
“Sorrow comes of its own accord. Joy has to be invited,”her grandfather’s voice whispered in her ear.
Warna turned, lamp in her left hand, her right on the wall. She scuffed an arrow with her foot in the dust, and then started off, heart beating in anticipation.
“We’ll run thepatrol along the river here,” Verice pointed on the map. “I know you say that the water’s high, but I don’t trust to that alone. I know it thins our forces, but—”
His chest vibrated as his mage-wards broke. Someone was in the keep. Verice lifted his head, focusing on—
“True enough, Lord, but with message birds, the early warning will make all the difference,” Narthing stepped in and continued talking, covering for Verice.
Verice blocked out the people around him, and concentrated. Was it an enemy, a member of his force? His anger built as he focused; his orders had been clear. No one was to enter the keep for any reason, and he’d see the offender punish—
It was Warna.
Chapter Six
Warna wandered down the hall in amazement.
This was clearly a working area of the castle, with various rooms off the long hall. The first few doors she came to were ajar, and swung open at her touch. They all showed signs of a hasty departure, chairs overturned, scrolls left on desks, fireplaces unswept.
The dust was thick, as were the cobwebs. She stifled a cough, trying not to stir the air too much.
There was a rustling as well, and droppings. She didn’t bother to investigate those areas too closely.
Some doors were locked, and she moved past those, careful to make scuff marks in the dust. Her little lamp burned bravely, its light steady and reassuring.
She started humming to herself, if only to hear another sound besides her breathing. Not that she was afraid, really. The empty rooms and hall didn’t speak to her of menace. It felt like sorrow.
Although if her little brother had been with her, he’d have hidden in those wardrobes and jumped out at her just to hear her shriek.
Her heart clutched at the memory, and her eyes welled up. Grief swept over her, but then with a teary laugh, she could almost hear his joyful laughter.
