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“Are you certain I could learn?”
“To read? Yes, of course. It’s the same as any goal. The more time and effort you put into it, the greater your skill.”
Silence descends and it’s not until we’re heading up the tower stairs that I realize the sway of his gait has lulled me almost to the point of sleep. Straightening up in his arms, I ask, “Can I walk from here?”
He just grunts and continues up the stairs to the landing.
“Please?”
Frowning, he finally stops and puts me down.
“Thank you.” Putting my foot on the first step, I start the climb. “I need to re-gain my strength,” I explain, and I’m so pleased that compared to my last attempt, this one is much easier. I’m still a bit winded, but definitely stronger. The sense of celebration is promptly muted however by the sound of male voices coming from my room down the short hall. Sidling closer to Luka, I let him lead, then peer around his chest through the door.
I have a door!
“My deve,” an older man booms jovially. He’s wearing a thick leather apron that covers his protruding belly and his flowing white beard reminds me of a grandfather. “Your door has been delivered.”
“I asked for it days ago,” Luka growls.
“Yes, well, these things cannot be rushed or they won’t fit.” The man, who must be a carpenter, notices me and his head tilts with interest. Grandfatherly becomes predatory and I move closer to Luka, tucking my fingers into one of the buckles on the side of his vest. He allows it, but I must startle him, because I almost get hit with an elbow.
He turns back to the man. “If it’s done, get gone.”
Luka’s harsh tone has the carpenter’s smarmy countenance faltering and whatever he was about to say next is cut off by Ion who appears behind him with an armful of the ruined pieces of wood. “Heisdone now, Deve,” the young warrior says, his tone surprisingly stern as he crosses to the window. By the dull clatter, I assume he’s throwing everything to the courtyard below.
The older man takes the hint and hurries out without another word.
Our attention is drawn back to Ion. “I had the fire wood brought up.”
“Good,” Luka says, jerking his head toward his post down the hall.
“Thank you,” I say as he passes us.
Luka ushers me further into the room to close the door, inspecting its fit. “I don’t like the man, but his skill can’t be denied.” Then without a backward glance, he opens it, grumbling something that sounds like, “I’ll be back later.”
The door bangs shut and I’m left on my own again. At least with the daylight, the temperature has warmed up to a tolerable level.
I breakfast alone when my meal is delivered. I watch the sun make its journey across the sky alone. I nap. The hours pass. I count the people in the courtyard. I count the stones that make up the wall around the window. I feed wood into the brazier. It gets colder and I lie under the furs on my bed.
By mid-afternoon, I begin to lose hope that the deve will hold to his word and an irrational sense of despondency works its way into my bones along with the cursed cold. I try to chase it off by jumping about to warm my blood. I’m breathing hard by the time I sit on the window sill again, feeling somewhat better. A bird’s caw sounds from above me and I lean out to see what must be the same crow as yesterday perched on the battlement about fifteen feet up.
“Have you come to visit?” I call, but he screeches and hops back, out of sight. I sigh. “Fine, don’t talk to me.”
To keep my mind occupied, I try to count the stones on the outside wall as far up as I can without falling. Losing count twice, I start over . . . and all the while, in the back of my mind, an idea begins to take hold. Soon I’m not counting, but analyzing the way the blocks have been fit together. Unlike in D’heilar, they haven’t been filed smooth and I can see a great many handholds. Reaching out, I run my fingers along the wall. The blocks are cold, but my window faces south so they’re not slippery with mold or moss.
“That would be stupid, Rina,” I say aloud, glancing down at the three-story drop to the cobblestones below. But . . . looking up again, I plan out my ascent, because I simply cannot bestillany longer. I need to dosomething.If I don’t, I’ll lose my mind, especially now that the seed of adventure has been planted.
The sun is sinking swiftly toward the horizon, so if I’m going to do this, it has to be now. Climbing up onto the window ledge, I reach out and test my idea for the first handhold. It couldn’t be more perfect and a heady wave of possibility surges through me. This is the point of no return. If I swing myself out, I won’t be able to maneuver myself back inside. There will only be up. Or down. Luka flashes in my mind’s eye, and idiotically, I worry who will help with the letter if I fall. But right there, I find the greatest reason to do this . . . my life has been reduced to almost nothing and my future is filled with much of the same.
I slowly ease myself out and a huge smile spreads across my face. I send my bare foot out to find a solid place to rest and then take the greatest risk of my short life. I let go of the window casing and transfer my weight.
And start to climb.Holy shit!
The first few transitions go well. The hand and foot holds are solid. When I hear exclamations from below, I almost laugh at the idea I’m exposing my private parts for all to see. But I block my audience out and concentrate on the burn of my arm muscles as I pull myself higher.
Reaching for my next hand hold, I’m forced to stretch up on my toes, and I get a very real shot of fear. My wounded leg is weaker than I expected.
Do not look down.
