Warna wiped away tears, took a shuddering breath and continued on.
But the next break in the hall, she had to make a choice. She could head up the small spiral staircase to her right, turn down a hall to her left, or continue straight on. She paused for a moment, and bit her lip.
Up. She wanted to see those windows.
There were arrow slits along the way, and she could see the walls, and down into the courtyard. There was a line of shadow as well, and she knew that soon enough she’d lose any sunlight. Besides, Lord Verice had said he’d be back at sunset. Best to be out and cleaned up before he arrived.
The stairs opened up into a dark hall, and again she chose to go to the right.
Here now, were the chambers of the keep. Each with an arched window that let so much light spill into the room.
This room had a large bed, covered with thick blankets and hung with heavy bed curtains. A woman had slept here, there were bright dresses in the wardrobe. Warna took a closer look, mindful of the flame of her lamp.
The dresses were lovely, vibrant and rich. But when Warna reached out to touch one, she pulled her hand back. It didn’t feel right to disturb these things. Except for the layers of dust, it felt as if the lady would burst into her chamber at any moment, laughing, ready to change for a night of dancing and music.
Whatever had happened to her, she hadn’t taken her things.
Warna sighed and moved on, peeking into rooms as she went. All bore the weight of their departed residents, even to perfume dried in bottles long unused. The hall went on, but she could not. Warna turned back, and returned to the spiral staircase she had ascended.
She paused there, holding the lamp, and considered. Up or down?
She went up.
Breathing hard, she emerged into a small chamber. There were linens here, some stacked on shelves, some bundled for the laundry. It had to be a servant’s supply room. The door beyond was open just a crack, and there was a faint glow of sunlight beyond.
She pulled open the door, gasped in delight, and then sneezed.
Sunlight flooded through the huge arched windows and down the length of a long room, High and clear letting in a lovely light. Between them were four vivid colored-glass windows, staining the white marble below them with reds and golds and vibrant greens. This had to be the main hall of the keep, the Great Hall. Warna followed along the one wall, staring at the designs.
Only two on each side were of colored glass. The first depicted spring, with fresh green glass, and a lovely oak tree that arched over the scene: a meadow of flowers. The details were amazing, with animals of the forest at the base of the tree, and the birds building nests and courting in the high branches.
Warna hurried to the next. This one was summer, with the deeper greens, and the animals feeding and raising their young.
A glance showed her that the other side had to be fall and winter. She darted across the room, stirring the dust and coughing as she hurried to see the other designs. But the center of the room stopped her in her tracks.
Shattered chairs, tables and benches lay strewn about like broken toys.
There’d been a gathering of some kind. There were some tables still set with dishes, others overturned, with crockery broken on the floor. Something had happened here, something terrible.
The sunlight was diffused here, but she still had her lamp. There were wine-stains on the floor, and food dried in the bowls. The air was stiff and stale. Mice droppings on the tables and floor. Some of the debris was weapons, swords and daggers left where they’d fallen. There was a shield with a blade wedged deep within.
No bodies, thank the Lord and Lady.
Almost against her will, her gaze turned to the high table. It was overturned as well, the cups and plates smashed. The actual high seat was broken, splintered and cracked, as if it had been used in defense. And in the space before the high table?
Warna stopped just at the edge of the reddish-brown stain. It covered a huge area, with signs that someone had struggled within it. There were smeared hand-prints, and drag marks all around the deepest darkest part.
Warna could barely breathe.
She lifted her head as a breeze touched her cheek. In the wall behind the high seat there was a large circular window, its glass shattered and gone, open to the sky.
“Warna.” The voice, low and deep, came from behind her. She wasn’t even startled to see Verice standing in the opposite doors.
There was such pain in his face, and she knew instantly that she was the cause. She stood frozen, holding the tiny lamp before her like a shield. “M’lord, forgive me. I didn’t think—”
“Come,” Verice said, holding out his hand. “You should not be here.”
Warna advanced to place her hand on his wrist. His skin was cool under her fingers, his eyes dark. Her mouth dry, Warna licked her lips, afraid, but unable to stay silent. “M’lord, what happened here?” Her voice was a whisper against the silence.
